When I was 13 (I'm 31 now) we moved to a tiny town in South East Oklahoma to be near my grandmother after my grandfather had died.
We found a house to rent that had been vacated because the last tenants said they kept waking up to someone shaking the bed and telling them to get out of the house because it was on fire.
Years before the house had been a huge 2 story farm house, but the upper story had caught fire and was renovated to a 3 bedroom 1 story house.
While moving in, my sister was putting things away in her closet (where the stairs used to come down and the access to the attic still was) on the top shelf she found a doll and came out screaming saying that its eyes were glowing at her. I had to change rooms with her after a while because she was so afraid of that closet.
Soon after I moved into the room, for no apparent reason the door to my closet would open, my bedroom door would open and the back door to the house would open, then they would slam shut in reverse order.
Well I dubbed my ghost "Fred". I would freak my friends out with it. When the doors would open, I knew they were gonna shut again, so I would say "Fred get back in that attic and stay there" and when the doors would shut they would freak out, some even refused to spend the night again.
My step brother also hated visiting us, he would swear he would hear someone getting water from the dispenser in the fridge, but when he would go look, no one was there.
Late one summer I had a friend spending the night and because of "Fred" she had insisted that the closet door be shut before we went to bed. Next thing I knew I woke up standing next to my bed, pointing at the closet with everyone in the house (mom, stepdad, step brother, sister, and friend) in my room and staring at me. My friend said I had thrashed about in my bed for a few minutes, then I jumped out of bed, pointed to my closet, the door on which was now open, and said "GET OUT OF MY BED", then after a few minutes, pointed again, and said, "I DON'T CARE, I SAID GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BED". I have no reason not to believe them, since everyone in the house heard me.
Nothing like that happened again, but the doors kept opening and closing, and my sister and step brother had an uncommon fear of the house.
We moved out after living there over 4 years. I always loved the house and always felt safe, sometimes I think "Fred" moved with me, and I hope he always does.