I lived in one house in Las Vegas for nearly ten years. My room always scared me. It was so bad that even in high school I slept with my door open. I can't explain why I felt so frightened to be that room. Of course, the odd shadows in there that shouldn't be shadows was one reason. But how do you explain the feeling of evil when you have nothing substantial to back it up.
One night, everyone had gone to bed. Now, my sister's room is at such an angle that she has a direct view of my room. It was in the middle of the night, and she suddenly woke up. Focusing her eyes, she saw a figure of a man at the edge of my bed, staring down at me. She wasn't close enough to see what expression he had, but she felt as though he was evil. She described him to be tall, thin, and "made of smoke" in her own words. After about half an hour (the clock chimed) the man walked out of my room, turned to step down the stairs, and disappeared. Needless to say, when she told me this a couple of years ago, I immediately broke out in goosebumps.Something else to add about this room, when I was in high school, I played the violin. One Saturday I was alone in the house, so I decided to practice. Once I had finished, I put the instrument back in it's case, and put it carefully in my closet. Downstairs, I was just about to fix myself something to eat, when I heard the most beautiful music playing from the upstairs. It was violin. At first I thought that I had left one of my CD's on, but I realized that I hadn't touched it all morning. I sat in the kitchen armed with a knife until my family got home. The music stopped the moment my family opened the garage door. I believe that there was at least one good spirit in my room, and it wanted to share it's knowledge of the violin with me.