Ok, this is my experience with the paranormal. I'm not the smartest of people, not the best with words, but I have a story to tell, and I hope someone will listen.
This is a yarn about me, my family, and a little cabin in the woods. Imagine, your dad is driving down a heavily wooded, dirt road. Autumn. You come upon a locked gate. Nothing more than two metal bars, a chain, and a padlock. Your mom gets out, unlocks the gate, and opens it with a loud creak. You drive about half a mile down the road when you come upon the cabin.
Now, this "shack" isn't your run of the mill cabin. The front is bi-symmetrical. A porch, two windows, and a door. Which is practically hanging off of it's hinges. A wood pile, an axe in a chopping block, and a deer skull hanging above the door. You can tell that this house has been in existence for a long, long time.
The inside is scary enough as it is. There are two main parts to the interior. The bottom floor is completely open, except for the bathroom (which is to the right). On the right is a bed. Directly in front of you is a couch facing a fireplace (remember the couch, it comes into play later). Behind the couch is the kitchen, if you really want to call it that. It's a stove, a fridge, and a chopping block. That's it. Covering the walls are animals. Dead animals. Rabbits, quail, bobcat, wolf, squirrels, even the skin of a rattlesnake. My uncle is a hunter. He's the kind of hunter who keeps the head and discards the meat. Above you is a ceiling fan and the loft. More of an attic than a loft, really. You see, the only way to get into the loft is by ladder.
The loft contains two mattresses and a bunch of Christmas decorations. No light. Just a small, solitary window, close to the ground. About a foot and a half to be precise.
Let's get down to the occurrence at hand. It was late August, about 5 pm. We had just arrived and were beat from the long ride over. We were unpacking the car and (I know this sounds corny) I had the strangest feeling I was being watched. I flipped around. No one. I shrugged it off as nervousness left over from the trip. We went inside, put our stuff down, and built a fire.
The night went on as normal. We ate dinner, played a couple board games, and listened to the radio. At about 10.00 pm, we all went to bed. My parents slept upstairs, in the loft. I thought of the feeling I had earlier and felt uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that I blew off the bed and decided to sleep on the couch in front of the fire.
I slept like a log until about 12:45 when I heard a slight scratching at the front door. I shrugged it off at first. Wind maybe. It really started to bother me when it got so loud, my parents woke up and told me to stop joking around and go back asleep. I was so petrified from fright, I couldn't reply. The scratching intensified. It got louder, and louder, and louder, and LOUDER!!!
It continued until my dad grabbed the ladder and scrambled down ready to punish me for rudely awaking them. To his surprise, I was still on the couch with the sheets over my head. I was about 6 at the time so don't think I didn't have reason to be scared. My dad got me up and I followed him to investigate our "visitor". The scratching intensified even more with each step. My father grasped the handle and turned it ever so slowly. The scratching was now louder than ever. He flung open the door. Nothing. The scratching had stopped immediately. We both looked at each other and shut the door.
The next morning we checked the door where the sound was. No sign of any friction against the door of any kind.
Every August we return to my uncle's cabin. Hoping to encounter the strange phenomenon again.