When I was little (about 8) I lived in this old, ugly green house that most of the people in the neighbourhood said was haunted. I was sleeping on the bottom bunk, my twin sister who sleeps on the top was at a friend's house for the night, and I see a house on fire down the street.
I ran into my parents' bedroom and told them about it.
"It's just the sun coming up," my mother sleepily assured me. I tried to tell her it was a fire, but she wouldn't believe me.
I watched the house burn for about 2 hours, when the fire trucks arrived.
Four people were killed in the fire, including a little girl about my age who was sleeping over, I think it was her grandmother's house. The next night, at the same time the fire went on before, my alarm clock started making funny noises. It continued this, starting at about 3:50 AM, ending just before 4, for as I lived in that house. Nobody would believe me, and not even my sister heard it.
Then, months later, there was a thunderstorm and the power went out. I will remember this part for the rest of my life: The clock, digital, was still on! And still making the funny noises! I never looked at the clock when it made the noises, I was always really, really scared, but then, when I turned over, there was a shadow, barely visible in the light from the window, floating in the air! And I touched it, it was cold, but it wasn't the window, I swear!
To this day, nobody believes me.