It was 1981, I was 14 and my parents had just purchased a run down town house (Number 66) in the small cathedral city of Ely which dates back to pre-Roman times http://www.elymuseum.org.uk/displays/
The town house was in some desperate need of renovation, some of the work was undertaken by my parents who would often stay there overnight. On the occasions my mother would stay there alone she would often complain of hearing footsteps walking across the old landing which was no longer existed. My father, however, would dismiss these complaints as an over-active imagination. He is a very logical man, seeing is believing or hearing as in this case.
Well this went on for several months as work continued on the house, my mother relaying stories of phantom footsteps and my father dismissing them as he never heard anything whilst he stayed overnight. Then one night it happened! My father was lying in bed and he heard footsteps outside the door on the old landing. Unlike my mother who would hide under the sheets, he was out of bed like a shot. He is a big man 6ft 280 pounds and meets most things head on, he flung the bedroom door open with the footsteps still in his ears and there before him was... Nothing but an empty landing. He searched the whole house but nothing was out of place. He still plays down that night but I know my father and I know he heard someone or something walking outside their bedroom door.
By the time the family moved in, the stories had become just that. I think my mother stopped mentioning any events and my father was still in denial. The great thing for me as a teenager was this was the first time I had ever had a bedroom to myself away from my older brother who at best was annoying!
Some six months passed without incident and any thoughts of phantom footsteps had been put to the back of our minds. Home life had indeed been pretty uneventful in that respect. Then one night I was home alone (apart from our dog Freebie) I spent the evening kicking back watching TV, eating snacks, the usual teenage thing of not doing much. I guess it was around midnight when I decided to call it a night, so I made way up the stairs. As I approached my bedroom I began to pull my T-shirt over my head. Now what followed I now find amusing as I'm sure you will if not a little unbelievable, but a the time it scared the crap out of me. So the T-shirt is covering my head as I am taking it off, at that precise moment something, now don't laugh, something pinched my right buttock (to the hosts of this site, this really happened) there was no mistaking it, it was no muscle spasm it was flesh being pinched! I, as you would, immediately pulled my shirt back down and spun round thinking, more hoping, that maybe someone had come home without me noticing but there was nothing there! In desperation I called the dog perhaps it had nipped me for some reason, clutching at straws I know. Alas the dog was still downstairs which was exactly where I headed, all the lights went on as did the TV.
By the time my parents returned home I had calmed down but still wasn't prepared to go upstairs on my own. My father asked me why I was downstairs so, with some trepidation, I told him of the night's events fully expecting him to dismiss the whole thing. To my surprise however he didn't.
To this day, some 30 years later, he still believes me. Nothing untoward happened to me again during the brief time I was there but I will never forget the night I had my rear pinched by an unseen entity!