I was in college in Arizona, and my family had just moved to California for my dad's work. He moved us around every few years, but I was stubborn and stayed in Arizona to finish my education. The paranormal was talked about freely in our family, it wasn't really a big deal.
Getting off the plane and meeting mom and my sister, first words out of mom's mouth were, "The house is haunted." I laughed, but my sister said, "No, it's not just a feeling, it's a little boy, the same age as D." D was our baby brother, probably 8 or so.
The house was alright, Mexican styled with a curved staircase going upstairs and a long hallway leading to a bathroom and three bedrooms. The furniture was in storage, everything in the house was temporarily rented until the permanent house was built. There were tons of patch jobs in the walls from someone punching holes in them or bullet holes. I couldn't tell which, but they were everywhere.
My sister had seen the ghost on the other side of the shower curtain as she was bathing and yelled at it to get out of the bathroom. She thought it was D, but he was downstairs watching TV with mom and dad.
Mom said she woke up in the middle of the night with it looking at her by her bed, and then it ran into the wall. The cats were terrified of the hallway, and apparently the ghost really enjoyed my sister's bedroom.
A few days went by uneventful. I was there the last night they were there, in the morning they were moving into the permanent house. So I went to bed, I was sharing my brother's bed since my sister had ringworm from touching the sick cat, and was laying there facing the door.
I watched a shadow walk down the hall and thinking, it was my sister, waited until I watched her come back. The shadow walked by again, not returning, but going again to the stairs. I thought that was odd, and again waited for the figure to return to my sister's room. It didn't. Instead whatever it was started throwing stuff down the stairs.
I didn't move, figured it was the ghost and stayed in bed. It sounded like luggage being thrown against the wall, and then it falling down the stairs. After a while of that, and me dozing off to be reawakened by thudding, the noises starting in the kitchen. I heard something being flung across the kitchen floor and crash into the wall on the other side. This went on until sunrise, with me getting no sleep whatsoever. Finally the room started to lighten to grey with the rising sun, and there was a boom that shook the house, and it flung the wooden door to my brother's room wide open.
It was finally silent. I went to sleep, only to be woke by mom throwing open the curtains an hour later. I was angry, I figured everyone had been awake for the banging and throwing, but I asked everyone, no one had heard a thing.
I went back to Arizona the following day, and my family moved out of state again a few months later, but apparently the boy had not moved with them. He was either attached to the rental furniture or the house. I felt bad for him, and still wonder why I got to hear the commotion while everyone else slept through it. I still wonder if he had died by being thrown down the stairs, or if that was just to get my attention.