Back in the early 1980s my aunt lived in a house that was literally located in the middle of nowhere. It used to really creep my younger brother and me out, but we loved to go there because my aunt had four children.
The house was very old, and it had all wooden floors. There was always an uneasy feeling when you were inside. For the most part not much happened that was out of the ordinary when we were there. There were a lot of noises during the night, though. On several occasions I heard floorboards creaking, as if someone were walking around. Most of this seemed to be coming from upstairs, and sometimes in the hallway downstairs that connects the front of the house to the back rooms. Sometimes I also heard a thumping sound from upstairs at night. The thing is, no one stayed upstairs ever. There was just a spare room, a bathroom and some small storage spaces up there.
My aunt’s room was downstairs, and we all stayed in a room down the hall from hers. I told myself that the sounds were caused by the wind, or the fact that the house was so old, and really never thought twice about it. I refused to ever go upstairs though. The thought that the place could be haunted never really crossed my mind. I just thought it was a creepy old house. That is, until one night in particular. Bedtime had come a long time ago, but us being kids we stayed awake and goofed around for a while. Eventually we all fell asleep. This night I seemed to have a lot of trouble staying asleep though. I kept waking up periodically for no apparent reason. On about the fourth time waking up, I thought I felt a poke on the heel of my foot, which is what woke me. I rolled over and looked around the room, but nothing was out of the ordinary.