When I was around nine years old, my family lived in a beautiful house in Idaho. The house was peaceful, didn't seem that old, and we were in a popular neighbourhood. The house had two stories, but in northern states some houses have the second story underground, below the first. The upstairs was where the family lived; it had our kitchen, bathrooms, bedrooms, living room, etc. The downstairs was a bunch of extra space for us. It seemed as if the downstairs was never completed, it had some carpet in one room but all the other rooms were just cement. The walls of the other rooms weren't even finished, only the frame was made for them. It did have our laundry room and a partial bathroom down there also. My dad tore down the unfinished walls and transformed the downstairs into one large room. It was a perfect play room, since it had large space, a television, computer, and treadmill.
As an early Christmas present (soon after remodelling), I got my first puppy who was a couple months old. He was a cute Shetland sheepdog. While I was at school and my parents were at work we kept my puppy in the downstairs bathroom during the day so that he wouldn't tear anything up in the house. Eventually I convinced my parents to allow me to ride the bus home so that I could play with my puppy (instead of going to boring day-care).
My first day home by myself, I went downstairs and was playing with my puppy in the play room. I had called my mom to let her know I was home and she said she was about to leave work. I was watching television for some time downstairs and my puppy was sitting next to me on the couch. I heard slow consistent footsteps coming down the stairs then they stopped. We had two doors at the entrance of the play room from the stairs; I had them shut so my puppy wouldn't run upstairs. A few seconds after the footsteps stopped, I noticed the door knob was moving as if someone was trying to open the door (another few seconds). The door then opened gracefully half way. The couch was in the middle of the room across from the doors (which were at the corner of the room). I was at the perfect angle to see what was on the other side of the doors - I saw NOTHING. Only the wall, light on the ceiling, and the end of the stairs, everything else was thin air. Surprisingly I wasn't scared, I happened to look down at my puppy that was still beside me. He was fascinated, his ears were perked up and his eyes were locked onto something by the door. He showed no emotion, no barking or growling. He was still as a statue.
I was expecting my mom to come home. I originally thought my mom was pulling a prank on me, so I was yelling "Mom" and waiting for her to appear. She never did and I continued to sit on the couch. After about 30 seconds, the door slammed shut. It was just as if someone pulled the knob and slammed it shut. I never saw a hand or anything except thin air. I would've seen a hand! Right after the door slammed, I heard the footsteps rush back upstairs as if someone was running for their life.
I sat on the couch wondering what just happened. I looked at my puppy and he looked back at me as if he was wondering the exact same thing! We both sat there stunned. Especially for an extremely active puppy to sit still for a few minutes on a couch is impressive. That experience was the first ever of any sort I'd been through, however, I didn't feel threatened. When everything happened I didn't feel that I was in any danger or that "it" expected me to be there. Somehow I got the nerve to actually go upstairs and look around (surprised since most people would probably stay glued to the couch). But I took my puppy in my arms and walked up the stairs. The house had its same peaceful mood to it. Nothing was different in the house and I never heard anything else after I heard the footsteps rush up the stairs. I was meticulous about keeping all the doors locked, I checked every single door and they were all as I left them. I opened the door to the garage and was quite disappointed my mom's car wasn't there. It was as if my puppy and I were the only souls there. I have no idea where that ghost or spirit went, but it must have stayed in my house since it didn't open any of the doors to leave! It was even a really beautiful day outside.
Whatever "it" was, it must've not expected me to be home. I believe that it must've been fond of my puppy and possibly went downstairs to play with him. We lived in that house for about two years. After that encounter I never saw "it" again and my parents never mentioned anything out of the ordinary. My puppy matured and always seemed to act normal. My dog enjoyed taking his soft toys and flinging them in the air. A couple of times it seemed as if the toys stayed in the air a long time (like someone was holding them then letting go) but that could've been part of my imagination. It never bothered me thinking about having a ghost in my house. I continued to ride the bus home and my puppy stayed in the bathroom until he was house broken. If it really did stay in the house, it made no effort to be noticed and must've had a peaceful vibe to it. I never attempted to contact it or anything. I did develop quite an interest in paranormal stuff ever since then but that was my first and only encounter so far in my life. My family and I did eventually move out of state. My dog passed away two years ago from old age and medical conditions, but he was always a happy fellow.
I will never forget that encounter. I'm twenty-two years old now and still a firm believer in ghosts. Just because someone never sees anything with their own eyes doesn't mean ghosts don't exist. With my encounter, I just saw thin air but I know SOMETHING was there since I happened to be paying attention, saw it open the door, and heard footsteps. Many people expect ghosts to just magically appear before their eyes and when it doesn't they claim they don't exist, but not all ghosts want to be seen and sometimes you just have to "open your eyes" to things you wouldn't expect. Life is interpretation.
It's kind of funny to think about a person scarring a ghost since it is usually the opposite in ghost stories!