My entire childhood, I thought everyone had a ghost in their lives - my brother and I did. It wasn't until years later when a friend of mine refused to enter my parents house that I realized differently. I have countless stories, but I'll share a selected two.
My brother John had claimed to see an apparition in the basement a few times, and even walked though one once, but I never truly believed him. That is, until one Friday night I was left in the house alone.
I was sitting on the couch in the family room from where you can see through the dining room, kitchen, and into the hallway going back to the bedrooms. Part of the view into the hallway is blocked by hanging cabinets that can be accessed on either side (when the doors are opened on each side, you can see straight through them). I was watching TV, and suddenly I had that "feeling". I was being watched. As usual, I ignored it at first, telling myself it was nothing. But the feeling just got more intense. I glanced out the sliding door (across and to the right of the couch), and saw nothing. "See?" I told myself. But when I turned my head back towards the TV, my eyes fell on something in the kitchen. For some unknown reason the two cabinet doors next to the wall were left open, and I should have been able to see the hallway. But not this time. Staring at me was a green face. Just a face - no body. I could clearly see the eyes, which were locked on mine. I blinked. Then I blinked again. It was still there! My mind went blank and chills ran over my whole body. The face was looking at me with no expression ...not that I could see. It didn't move, it didn't speak. It just looked at me. I froze. I couldn't move! The phone was only 10 feet away, but on the other side of the room. I forced myself to breathe normally and turn back to the TV, but I had lost all interest in the show. When I looked back about 10 minutes later, it was gone. I didn't speak of the incident until I left for college and I felt more removed from it.
Another experience happened a few years later in 1987 when my brother and I were home from college for Christmas. We were in the family room with our dog, and were watching TV. (Note: the garage connects to the family room). Suddenly we heard a garage door open. We could audibly tell who is coming home by the sound of the garage door (my mom's garage door was louder than my dad's), and this time it was mom's side. Our dog ran to the door and expectantly awaited to be petted. We heard the garage door open, a car pull in, shift gears into 'park', the engine stop, the car door open and close, and the garage door close.
A few minutes later, John and I glanced at each other as if to say "where'd they go?" Razz even glanced over his shoulder with a confused-dog look. We both got up and opened the door to the garage to see what was going on, and we don't see a car. Nobody was there! Nobody HAD been there at all! We each got the chills, but at the same time were a bit comforted. You see, a month earlier, our mom had been killed in a car accident. It was like she had finally come home. Well - I could go on, and perhaps I have, but one thing is for sure. I grew up in a haunted house, and still get that "feeling" every time I go back.