In the
house where we lived when I was
seven, there was a really interesting shape in the natural pattern of the wood on one of the doors; it looked like a
Druid-type figure in a
cloak. I think it must have been the
bathroom because I remember sitting in the
bathtub and getting utter
creeps just looking at it.
We moved to a new house when I was
eight, and I found out some years later that the previous owner
shot himself in our basement bathroom. This place gives me no more
creeps than any
creaky old house, and I've experienced no
hauntings per se. Once my mother bumped into the
previous owner's son at a bar or something, and he said he once saw the man's ghost hanging in the
stairwell. I just try not to think about this when the
lights are out and I'm trying to feel my way home.