Pretty sure I lived in a haunted house for awhile. Strange things. For one I always felt like I was being watched in my room, and if I had the door open to the hallway I would SWEAR I'd see someone walk by out of the corner of my eye. We had two cats and someones they'd be in my room sleeping and then all of a sudden they would sit bolt up and stare at the door, and nothing I did could move them for a long time. This happened often. One day in my bathroom the shelf that had my sister's beauty stuff randomly lost hold of all of the items. The thing was the shelf wasn't lose or hanging and all the stuff had to bounce out of a two inch high lip into the sink. One time in the middle of the night my sister's 100+ year old dresser she got as a gift from our grandma just "fell" over. This thing weighed a ton and it was built like a tank. Sister said she heard the sound of someone pushing. Mom and sister used to yell at me for sneaking around the house...only I wasn't home or I was in my room. They said they saw a man in shadows that was about my height. One day we also ran into the old owner and my Mom casually asked the lady if she had ever experienced anything in the house. The lady started crying and said no one believed her but yes, she experienced a lot of stuff. I moved out around that time. I do not miss that place.

Family moved in to an old house (200+ years) when I was 10. Uncle (weird guy) was going to help us move in and when we got inside the house he got all weird and left. Always avoided coming for birthdays etc. We always joked he saw a ghost and for some reason we nicknamed the ghost Billy. When my little sister started talking she would say really weird things, like asking if we can shut her door at night so she doesn't have to see the boy walking down the hallway. Fucking creepy. Anyways we thought she was also just being a big weirdo, so we continued to have this Billy the Ghost joke. Something would get misplaced "must be Billy" yadda yadda. A few years later we ripped up the flooring because we wanted to go back to the original hard wood that had been covered up forever ago by old owners, and if you know anything about old houses you know they used to insulate the floor with newspaper when newspaper just became a thing. Decided to read some articles for fun, some talking about the first ever refrigerators, really cool things like that. Until we got to the creepy part, a mentally challenged boy named Billy who lived in our home, died while playing outside of it. I saw a lot of shit growing up in that house but I'm not a huge ghost believer. The newspaper was a fucking creepy coincidence though, given that for years we had an ongoing Billy the Ghost joke. Uncle also ended up telling us years later that when he pulled into the driveway and was outside of the house he just got this awful feeling.

There was a small door that led to attic space in my bedroom (11 yrs old to 13) and it became habit that I would shut the door as I walked into my bedroom a couple times a week. I didn't think anything of it, just assumed my mom didn't close it all the way when she left it. After a while I made the mistake of joking with her when she made a comment about me not picking up after myself, I said something like 'every night I have to close the attic door behind you, how about you shut it all the way when you're done?' She then informed me that she hasn't been in the attic in months. Asked my brother... nope. Asked my father... nope. So then I started to pay really close attention to it. Making sure it was closed in the morning, checking it after school, checking [after] dinner. Then head up to bed and... open. After a couple months of wondering, studying, experimenting, I thought I'd see what happens if I just don't shut it. Opened the door before school and checked it after school, still ooen. Checked it after dinner, still open. Before bed, still open. Now I'm laying in bed, mind going crazy with the open door across the room. Decide to check it out so I roll over and focus on the black space into the attic... to see a face staring back at me. Bolt downstairs, wake parents, get ridiculed by brother, switch bedrooms w brother, move into new house about 6 months later (due to expanding household). New physics teacher and his wife bought our house. I could've forgotten all about that event and chalked it up to me having an over-active mind. But then my senior year I discovered how awesome our physics teacher was. Became my favorite class and by far, my favorite teacher. End of senior year my friend and I took our VHS camcorder around town, doing mostly silly things, but then took it to my old house to see what they've done with the place. We got a very fun tour, I got to tell stories about all the projects my dad did that were still part of the house. Then the wife leads us upstairs to show us the sewing room. I ask (jokingly), 'Notice anything strange in this room?' and her face goes blank. On camera, she asks what I mean and I try to shrug it off but end up saying something about the attic door. She confirmed that every time she comes up to sew, the attic door is open. She then tells us that the second day of being in the house, their dog (German Shepherd) had gone into the room but would not go back downstairs. He started barking and could not be consoled, and then jumped through the window, landing on the tin roof over the porch and then running off. The dog did not come back until the next day and has not stepped foot into the hallway that leads upstairs since. I had the initial thought that I could show my parents and brother the story I had on film but I decided to just let it be.

In my childhood home I would often hear touch typing coming from the computer downstairs early in the mornings. I didn't think much of it at first - my parents worked from home and it wouldn't be uncommon to wake up in the morning to hear Mum typing away at the computer. One day I got up and called out to Mum assuming she was down there working as I could hear typing. No answer. No one was down there at all. I was sure I heard typing. This began happening regularly. I figured I was so used to hearing typing from downstairs that I was hearing things that weren't there, so I didn't mention anything to anyone figuring I was going a bit crazy. This happened on and off over a period of 6 months. The sound of fast typing and fast, furious clicking of a mouse as if someone was frustrated. One morning I was eating my breakfast when I heard Mum at the top of the stairs call out to me, "You're not down there on that computer already?!" I froze and ran out to her. I was amazed she had heard it too; she was convinced she could hear typing, yet no one was down there. I told her about all the times I'd been hearing it and then my sister opened up about hearing it regularly too when no one was down there. I wasn't crazy after all. I set out to try catch whatever was causing it and to try discover a rational explanation for it. I'd sprint out of my bedroom, to the top of the stairs where I was able to look down into the room to see if anyone was at the computer. No such luck; every time I got there it stopped. I think it went on for a couple of years and we learnt just to kind of live with it as it wasn't every day. I was down there once when the ceiling light globe in the center of the room began flashing very fast, strobe-like. It then exploded and glass went shattering all across the room. I was lucky I ran out of the room when it started happening because I was scared (the whole mysterious typing, you know). If I hadn't ran I would've been hit with bits of light bulb. Around that same time I was on the computer at home by myself when something happened that resulted in me never being alone in that room again. I felt and heard this really sharp intake of breath directly behind my right shoulder near my ear. I've never ran so fast in my life and was hesitant going in that room ever again. Prior to that, the whole typing thing had just been something weird and a bit spooky - not scary. Still makes my heart race when I think about it today. Have never really encountered anything like this before or since all those events. I don't particularly believe ghosts either but I'm open to the possibilities of "something" in which scientists don't have a proper explanation for yet.

I was in first grade, hanging out at recess with a friend. He was shooting some hoops outside and I was playing DS, sitting on the pavement. I remember him asking me if he could make a shot from half way across the court. I told him he could try but he probably wouldn't make it while looking at my DS. Suddenly, my dad asks me what I mean, and when I look up I'm sitting on my living room carpet, talking to my dad, and it's dark out. I was sitting in the same position, playing the same game, same level, and same exact spot in the level. Everything continued normally that night, and I didn't tell anyone at the time, but looking back it is really freaky. I thought it was a dream for the longest time, but thinking about it it didn't really feel like a dream, and I don't really remember dreams that well.

I dreamt I was being choked and woke up to find my own hands around my throat.

I posted this a long time ago but when I was younger my mom was dating this guy (who we will call JB) and after a few months he invited my mom, me, and my brother to go with him and his son (about my age) out to his lake house for the weekend. It was right on Lake Michigan but up in a more secluded area which was pretty awesome. Well we got up there and for one I already felt really creeped out. It was a smaller two (maybe 3 if you count the really big attic) story house that had the living room/dining room/kitchen on the first floor and had 2 bedrooms on the second floor. His grandfather had helped to build the place with his (the grand fathers) dad and then he lived their for most of his life working as a tailor in the nearby town. We went up to the attic to get some beach toys because that's where JB kept all of that stuff so he didn't have to haul it every time he went out there. Well when we went up to the attic I noticed in the corner covered in some dust and cobwebs about 8 mannequins, some just upper torsos and some full body. Not too out of the ordinary considering a tailor had lived there. Me and JB's son slept down in the living room on the couch since there were no more beds, and near midnightish I heard the stairs squeak a few times. Figuring it was my mom coming to check to make sure we were asleep I told his son to be quiet and quickly turned the TV off and hid under the covers. After not hearing any noise for a few minutes I looked out from under the covers and saw three of the mannequins moving around in the kitchen. Like their body parts weren't moving but they were sliding around the kitchen. I swore I was dreaming but was so terribly frightened I hid back under the covers with a small yelp and then heard the dragging on the floor coming closer and peaked out seeing one of them just a few feet from the couch. I hid back under the covers and shut my eyes tight hoping it would go away. The next morning I got up and tried not to think about it, really really hoping it was just a bad dream but when we went back up to the attic to put the beach stuff back the mannequins were in different spots and weren't covered in cob webs any more..... Don't believe me if you don't want to but it happened and I've been scared shitless of mannequins ever since.

When I was in uni I lived by myself, it was a nice little studio unit behind a house in a fairly decent area. I would honestly think nothing of walking places at night, there was a 24 hour MacDonald's and a 7 eleven that I would walk to, often between 12am to 3am since I was a massive night owl. Well one day after finishing an essay at about 2 in the morning I decided I was hungry but didn't really have anything easy to cook so I decided to walk down to the 7 eleven and grab a pie or something. However as soon as I opened my door I was overcome by a suffocating feeling of fear, my heart started pounding, I started shaking, the works. Telling myself that this was ridiculous I walked out to the street with the intent to still go but that was as far as I got. I was terrified for no reason that I could understand, but no less intensely despite that. I ran back inside and ate dry cereal. Later the next day I heard about a group of drunk guys that were causing havoc down near the intersection at the 7 eleven, they'd beaten up someone from my uni. Even though I can't explain it, I'm convinced something bad would have happened to me that night if I had ignored that feeling and gone anyway.

When I was 6 years old, I had a cat named Buster. Buster was actually my step-dad's cat, but because I never had a cat before, I claimed him as my own. Suffice it to say, Buster didn't like being hugged and coddled all the time by a little child, so he hated me. He avoided me at all costs. He was also an outdoor cat, so he would often spend most days outside and then come in for the night. One night, Buster didn't come back in the house. We usually fed him at night, so I was worried. Our area was also well-known for an abundance of coyotes. My parents were being a bit hush-hush about Buster's disappearance, but I didn't get the hint. That night, when I was drifting off to sleep, Buster jumped onto my bed. He lay down by my head and let me pet him until I fell asleep. Honestly, I was shocked because he had never done this before. The next morning, I triumphantly walked downstairs and related to my parents that Buster now loved me because he slept in my bed during the night. My parents looked at me inquisitively and sat me down at the breakfast table to let me know that while they were outside the night before, they had found Buster's body in the alley behind our house. They thought he had been harassed by a coyote. But, he was dead, so he couldn't have slept in my bed that night. To this day, I like to think that Buster just wanted to say goodbye and thank me for trying to love him in the only way a child knew how.

Hunter/mountaineer here. It was a chilly December morning. I hiked in, pre-dawn, taking about an hour and a half to go 3 miles off the beaten trails. Got to my "nest" about half an hour before sunrise and started to settle in. The wind kicked up and a fog rolled in that was thicker than milk. Within a few minutes, my visibility was 5'. I'm sitting tight, huddled up against the freezing wind when I start to hear twigs snapping close to me. For no apparent reason, what is normally a rapturous sound indicative of an imminently successful hunt, sent a frosty chill down my spine. I chambered a round in my lever action 30-30 as quietly as I could, and lay flat on my back tucked against a fallen tree. The rustling was moving closer through the fog, but I couldn't see anything. The sun was starting to peek over the mountains to my east and visibility was starting to increase. The rustling of twigs and leaves was sporadic, sometimes directly in front of me, sometimes behind or beside me. I remember laying there, rifle across my chest, thinking to myself how silly it was to react like such a coward. I rationed with myself that bears and mountain lions are a rarity where I was, and I had likely stumbled into a herd of white-tail that had bedded down. I decided to sit up. The rustling stopped immediately. As it was fully dawn by now, I was looking through the fog for the outline of my prey, which I had assured myself was literally all around me. It wasn't. Seemingly, nothing was. By now, the fog had faded away and it was apparent to me that I was alone in those woods. I hunted all that day without seeing so much as a squirrel. Around 3 in the afternoon, after fighting the wind and an abnormally cold day, and not wanting to hike out by flashlight, I decided it was time to start back to the truck. Walking out of those woods was the most uneasy I have ever felt. Lawfully, once you make it back to the trail, you're supposed to clear the chamber of your rifle. Not that day. What is normally a stroll through the woods, I undertook with the seriousness of an animal being stalked. I would walk, then stop and listen. I never heard or saw anything during my retreat, but I could feel eyes on me. I was about 100 feet away from my truck, when I rounded the last corner and saw, hanging at eye level from a tree by a noose, a stuffed bear in a blaze orange jacket. I'm a giant, broad shouldered outdoorsman, but that one shook me something fierce.

I used to work doing maintenance at historic properties. There was a historic house museum I worked at when it wasn't open to the public. It was part of a whole landmark site, there was a visitor's center with offices and then the house was about half a mile up a dirt road in a wooded area. Sometimes I worked with a crew, but there were a lot of times I was there alone. One winter day, when it was really cloudy and dark, I was working alone to get ready to replace some electric work on the exterior of the house. I went inside and turned off the circuit to the whole property, and I tested it. It was off. I locked the doors and went outside to work. After about an hour, I got down from my ladder and started walking around the house and then one of the lights inside the house TURNED ON. I started to freak out, but thought that maybe someone was playing a joke on me... I called the visitor's center on my walkie-talkie, and confirmed that the only other person who was working that day was still there and hadn't left, and that all the keys to the house were present and accounted for. That's when I freaked out and ran the half mile up to the office. I made my coworker come back with me to check out what was going on, but when we got to the house, the light was off again- but the bulb was still warm. All the doors were still locked and the circuit was still off. Still gives me shivers to this day.