As requested in this thread
Most of the experiences I’ve had (which aren’t many, if I really thought about it I’d come up with enough on one hand and several probably WERE my imagination) are nothing special. Nothing particularly scary. One though… It’s not really scary to anyone but me, but here goes.
When I was about ten, we lived in a townhouse in a small town. We’d lived there for a few years, I was creeped out by the basement in the way young girls sometimes are and disliked being in the bathroom in the dark (I’d heard Bloody Mary by about that age at Guide camp).
Well, I woke up one night very thirsty so I went down the stairs to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I’m not sure why I didn’t just go to the bathroom, it was closer (on the same level) and we kept a cup there but I went down the stairs and into the kitchen. I got myself a glass of water, drank it and started back up.
Now to give you an idea of the layout, the kitchen was near the front door. The dining room at the very front, then the kitchen and a short hallway leading back to the living room with a big set of sliding doors out to the small yard. The stairs were between this, one set going to the basement (with a door) and the rest upstairs to all the bedrooms and the bathroom. From the stairs you had a clear view of the living room with the sliding doors covered by blinds as they weren’t enclosed by wall until you got to the landing and part of the hallway behind if you turned around. The stairs themselves were perpendicular to the hallway wall.
I got about halfway up before the landing and stopped dead because I just got such a shiver down my spine. Like someone was glaring a hole in my back out of complete and utter hatred and thought I’d heard something, or someone, moving around. I would swear on a stack of bibles that between one second and the next I was no longer alone.
Up until this point there was nothing out of the ordinary. It was dark, but a nearby street lamp lit the room enough I could see. I hadn’t been afraid, or nervous, or thinking much of anything except to get my drink of water and go back to bed because I was so tired.
So here I am, ten years old in my nightgown, hearing a strange noise (no pets either at this time in my life) and my lizard brain just shrieking at me. I turn enough to look down into the living room, nothing at all but furniture and the blinds tilted just a crack at the bottom but no one looking in at me. I look back at the hallway/wall behind me and I know there is no way there can be any person there. Not without me seeing them.
For a second I think maybe it’s my Dad, playing a joke, he’s like that and sometimes misjudges. But then I hear him snoring from the room above. I know my brother is asleep, my mom is asleep, all of them upstairs in their beds…
and I am alone, with something that hates my guts, on the stairs, in the dark.
Finally my lizard brain kicks in enough to get my butt moving and I practically fly up the stairs, down the hallway and to my bed (above the dining room) where I dive under the covers and don’t come out until morning.
To this day, I don’t know what it was, what I felt. I wasn’t sleepwalking, I never did that, I’ve had night terrors and nightmares and the only thing to come close to that feeling was a night terror but this was more. The night terror only stalked my sleep and went away when I woke up gasping. I never felt it again either, in that house or in any other I’ve lived in and afaik no one died in that townhouse or anything that could I could reasonably say ‘Ahh that was the ghost.’
To tell you the truth, just typing this creeps me out and I get a tremor down my spine though it’s not far past sunset, the lights are on and I am not alone.