I clearly remember this incident from when I was 8 years old. My mom, my two older cousins, my two younger siblings, and I were sitting on the sofa, watching TV shows in the afternoon. We were enjoying each other's company when, suddenly, we were all stunned by the sound of footsteps coming from the second floor of our house, which was made of plywood. You could literally hear the footsteps running back and forth toward the balcony, followed by the sound of the door slamming shut once they reached it. We looked at each other, confused about who it could be, but also terrified to witness something like that. My siblings and I hugged together in fear.
We knew that my father wasn't home at that time - he was with my grandparents at their house. Also, none of us, including my parents, would ever stay upstairs during the day. We only went upstairs at bedtime, and we were all very familiar with the house's layout and routine. We didn't think anyone could have been there, as my father was very strict about visitors. We never had guests or relatives wandering around the house, especially not upstairs.
To lighten the mood, my mom decided to make a joke. She laughed with my older cousins, raised her voice, and said, "Sige, pagtagbaw dihag dagan ayaw lang pamundak" (in English, "Go ahead and run, just don't slam the door"). She laughed again to reassure us that there was no need to be scared. The footsteps repeated this pattern about three times before they stopped.
After that incident, we would occasionally still hear footsteps walking or running, but when we reached high school, we moved to our grandparents' house. Our house was then given to my father's youngest brother.
I don't know if my aunt or uncle has experienced anything strange since they moved in, but hopefully, they haven't.
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