My parents' home was built in the 70's in a secluded area of a small town. The home has always been quite creeky due to age, but I've always felt like there was something more.
Ever since I was a kid, I never wanted to be left alone. Anywhere. I wouldn't sleep alone, wouldn't stay at home alone, wouldn't go anywhere by myself. Luckily I had neighborhood friends and siblings to keep me company, plus a dad that never complained when I asked him to stay up with me after a bad dream.
I don't really remember how old I was when I started "hearing" things. The room that I stayed in always gave me the creeps. I could hear things from downstairs and I just overall had a bad feeling about my room. My brother had a bunk bed, so he was normally kind enough to let me borrow his bottom bunk.
One night I woke up with my brother literally on top of me. When I asked him what he was doing, he explained that he was afraid of a man. "What man?" I asked. "The man wearing a black t-shirt that's been walking around up here. He just went downstairs!" I told my little brother to stay put so I could go get my dad. My father searched our home inside and out looking for the guy, but never saw or heard from anyone.
A couple of years went by. I had finally braved up enough to sleep alone, but I still felt weird in my room. One night my friend stayed the night so he could go hunting with my dad the next morning. I told him he could sleep in my room and I'd take a guest room so he could be more comfortable. The next afternoon he asked me if I had heard anything the night before. When I asked him what happened he explained to me that he woke up to a really loud noise and when he opened his eyes a bright light was shining in his face.
My parents always thought I was crazy when I would tell them that there was someone or something in the house. To this day when I visit them with my daughter, I still feel a certain strangeness looming around the corner.