Created a reddit account because this thread is so good that I had to be a part of it. I have two experiences that I want to share. The first, my best friend growing up lived in two super creepy houses. This particular event happened when we were both about 8 years old. Typical day, go home to best friend's house with her after school and we're watching tv in the living room of her house. There's a staircase next to the living room and it started to screech slowly out of nowhere as if someone was trying to slowly sneak up the stairs from the bottom but the house is old and the second it started, we noticed. So did her great dane. He flipped the fuck out, ran to the stairs barking, hair on his spine completely on end. I've never experienced fear paralysis before or since, not even sure if that's a thing, but that's what happened. I couldn't talk, speak, move. Nor could my friend. We just sat there, I think we were clasping our clammy, scared-shitless hands together. I grew up catholic (not by choice) so I couldn't exactly convince my parents that my best friend's house was haunted but that night I really tried. They didn't buy it and said that my friend's house is old and we just need to probably chill out. I remember feeling so betrayed by my parents for not believing me and the fear that I had felt. After that day, I never wanted to be alone in any room in that house again. I know what you're thinking, that's the story you created a reddit account to tell? No. Consider my first story a two-parter. Here is part two. My best friends family owned a second house, a rental house that they would rent out (unsuccessfully) for years. I say unsuccessfully because not a single tenant stuck around for long. Somewhere along the line my friend's parents decided they would sell the house they lived in ( with the screechy stairs ) and move to the rental house. They couldn't afford to keep paying for two houses, and convincing another tenant NOT to move out of the rental just wasn't gonna happen. (here's why) Fast forward to the day my friend asks me to come home from school with her to her new house (the rental) to help her paint her new bedroom. I was under the impression that the house was totally normal, and that they were just moving into it. Completely oblivious to the real reason why they had moved in, I thought it would be a great new start. Except as soon as I went in the uneasy feeling that I used to feel at their old house was back. Anyway, we go up to her room on the second floor. She has the paint up there, and the rollers and everything so we set up the room by putting old blankets on the floor and taped off the windows. The whole time I was in that room I felt like I was being watched but I didn't want to sound like a pussy so I just pretended like I was having a good time. The house was set up so there is two bedrooms upstairs and one downstairs. The two upstairs bedrooms were my friend and her older sister's rooms. They were connected by a crawl space, so there were these creepy, short wooden doors in the corner of each of their rooms. I'd never seen a house like this before, having lived in fairly new houses my whole life, so something about the little doors totally freaked me out the minute I saw them. My friend and her sister, having lived in the previously creepy house, we're both avid believers in ghosts/ the paranormal. At this time my friend decided it was appropriate to tell me about the little girl that lived in the crawl space. She just totally nonchalantly tells me that there's a little girl ghost that lives inside of the crawl space and has been there for a long time and that the previous renters couldn't handle living with ghosts so that is why they moved in. The same time she's telling me this, she's pouring the paint and rolling her roller into the pan and begins painting the wall, as if she's just telling me about her day. I'm kind of shell shocked because uh, i don't fucking like ghosts and she's just like... scaring the shit out of me. I try to tell myself that she's just trying to make me scared and I hesitantly walk up to the paint pan to dip my roller in and do what I was there to do. I walk over to other side of the room (the farthest away from that fucking door I could get without leaving the room entirely) and I put my roller to the wall. The second I put the roller to the wall and begin painting, the fucking crawl space door SLAMS OPEN. My friend, wide-eyed, turns to me, screams bloody murder and runs at me with her paint roller. She basically grabbed onto me in fear, but I was already in fight or flight mode at that point so her grabbing me was the worst thing she could have done. For some reason, I took my roller and started frantically painting her with it to try and get her off of me. I don't fucking know, guys. It just sorta happened. She seemed to like, come out of it, and we both kind of looked at each other, dropped our rollers (door still wide open... exposing the creepy ass, empty crawl space) and ran the fuck out of her room and down the stairs. We get downstairs, i'm whimpering like a small child because it was terrifying and we run to her mom who is in the dining room painting a shelf. We tell her what happened, and she sort of laughs at us like it's funny and proceeds to tell us the following "Yea, I didn't want to freak you guys out, but I've been trying to paint this shelf down here and these little hand prints keep showing up in the paint!" I grabbed the house phone and ran outside, called my dad at work (he worked 30 minutes from town) and DEMANDED he come get me immediately. I was sobbing hysterically so my dad understood that something was definitely not right, and the dude actually left work to come get me. I waited outside for about an hour until he showed up and I never went back to her house again.

Story two. Fast forward a couple years, same friend, except we're now at my house because I don't fucking go to her house anymore, i told you. It's my mom's rental house, she had just left my dad. The house she rented wasn't creepy, for the most part, but it was in the neighboring "town" (there was a gas station and a school and that is about it) so I felt like I was disconnected to say the least. None of this is super relevant to what happened but i'm trying to paint the scene. There was a baseball field and park across the street from my mom's rental and being the 11-12 year olds that we are, we persuaded my mom to take us over to the parking lot of the baseball field so that we could drive her car. I was fascinated with driving and needed. to. drive. my. moms. car. So she agreed, and it became a thing. Every time my friend came over, we begged my mom and she'd drive us over to the huge empty parking lot and let us take our turns driving about 10 mph around in circles. (sweet, right?) Well one particular day, we're over at the parking lot, driving around like badasses (note, we can see our house from the parking lot.) and as i'm turning the car around to face the house again we see a person in what looks like a white, painters suit.. or something where the hood is on and pulled tight around the face, all white suit. Almost like a hazmat suit or something. Anyway, this person walks directly into our open garage. We had just left it open to drive over to the parking lot and all three of us kind of blankly asked each other if we had all just seen what had happened. We had all clearly saw someone, something in a white head-to-toe suit walk into our garage and not walk back out. We drove right over and my mom got out of the car first and inspected the garage, nobody. So, great. They're in the house? I'm freaking out, because i'm easily scared and this just doesn't add up at all. My mom goes throughout the entire house and there is nobody there. My friend and I worked up the courage to go inside and sure enough, nothing. My mom did the usual "We must have just seen the reflection of something or ... I don't know" thing and we were forced to let our imaginations run wild from that point on.