Most of my experiences (but not all) have mainly occurred in my family's first home. This first handful of experiences did occur in that house.
When I was about 6 or 7 years old, my playroom was our basement, as was most children's that I've talked to. This was little to no problem, really. I could play and make a mess until my heart's content, and I could hear and see my mother when she came down to do laundry. I had quite a few toys (I can thank being the first child in the family, and having overly-doting grandparents for that, hah) and would just leave them all over the place when I was quite done playing with them. I had a few toys that were absolute favorites, one being a wind-up toy called a "love bug", which was simply a fluffy pink thing with a big red heart that would walk. The other toy I held in such high esteem was my Beetle juice doll. He was a pull-string doll that would speak, along with spin his head if you pressed a button in his neck.
One afternoon I was playing in the basement, as I usually did, and heard a noise from one of my toy boxes. Naturally, being a young child, I wanted to see if I somehow obtained a new puppy that had crawled into the box to surprise me, ha-ha. Well, no sooner had I gotten to the box that I heard a familiar grinding noise. I turned around and saw my love bug walking around. I thought maybe I hadn't killed off the energy from the last time I wound it up, so I let it walk itself dead. Then, I heard Beetle juice. Even at 7ish, I knew that the toy couldn't talk without someone pulling the string. I found him, and picked him up. I asked him why he was talking. Then, the head did a spin, and I did not touch the button to make it do so. I ran screaming from the basement, and had been frightened to go into alone until the day we moved out of that house (subsequently 11 years later).
Not too soon after being scared to death of the basement, I started having odd things happen. I used to have nightmares, which didn't seem out of place for a young child, and I would wake up and insist on sleeping in my parents' room. Regularly, I would sleep later than them, and wake up to a lot of movement on the bed. The first few times, I thought it was my father being fun and making the bed move. No. No, that would have been great. This was far from great. I would wake up, and when I opened my eyes, I would see legs. Disembodied legs dancing on the bed. I could feel them, I could see them, and I was scared. They were cut off below the hip, but danced in pairs despite being separated. This would only happen in their room, though. Never once in my room did I have this problem. It would also occur if I was simply watching a movie in their room, and dancing by myself on the bed.
Lastly, for this bundle of tales in passing, are a few years later down the road. I was about 12 years old. My brother was 8 and my sister was 5. I was watching television in our den area, which opened directly onto the landing for our back door. I heard some tapping coming from that area, and assumed it was our dog doing the "pee-pee dance". It wasn't. When I turned to look, I saw a girl, a very young girl, with her back turned to me, who appeared to be engrossed in whatever she was doing. By the time I turned back to watch T.V., it registered that this girl was NOT my sister, so I turned back quickly. In those few seconds, she was gone with no sound.
Thank you very much for allowing me to share with all of you my stories.
I look forward to sharing more.