For the good part of my childhood we lived in this old, run down house in the worst part of town. The house literally had an oppressive atmosphere to it; you'd walk in and it felt like it was smothering you like a heavy blanket and EVERYONE felt it.
Rumor in the neighborhood was at some point, before we moved in, a married couple lived there. Classic story of a husband coming home, finding his wife cheating, shooting her, the man involved and then himself. How true this is, I don't know and I never bothered to investigate it.
Anyway, I grew up with 'weird' stuff happening all the time. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and it'd sound like the living room was full of people, but when you got to the living room, it was dark and empty. Footsteps, opening doors, someone knocking on doors. My sister claimed she woke up one night to find a man, standing at the foot of her bed staring her down.
To be honest, what happened in the house would look like a pretty generic list of things you'd find in a haunted house, but at no point did it ever turn violent.
The one thing I remember most prominent was one night when I was screwing around with a Polaroid camera. I was taking random pictures in the house. I took a photo in the kitchen and the picture that came out made my heart skip a beat.
Right in front of the cabinets, maybe about half a foot off the ground was a solid, humanoid shadow, arms, legs, torso and head. I showed it to my Mother and Step Father. My Step Father insisted it was just a blemish and took the photo. I never saw it again. I think this spooked me the most, because seeing it suddenly makes it much more real.
The last thing I remember, a few months before we eventually moved out* of the house, my Mother and I, her boyfriend** and my sister were sitting in the living room. We were telling him about all of the stuff that happened in the house.
He responds it's bullshiat and there's no such thing as ghosts. Suddenly a door slams upstairs, we can hear someone stomping down the stairs. We all just sat there waiting to see what would happen next. That was when a decorative wicker basket in the living room was thrown across the room.
My Mother got up out of her seat saying, "Sure, there's no such things as ghosts."
* We stayed in the house because it was convenient for my family. We eventually left when the landlord lost his house and kicked us out so he could live there.
** First step father died, Mother found a new boyfriend, such is life.
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