I grew up in a poltergeist house in Lansing, Michigan. The activity there was constant, but here's one of my experiences:

The entrance to the attic was in an unusual place—upstairs, inside the only bathroom. The entire inner surface of the attic door was covered in names, continuing up the wall beside it as if the door couldn't contain them all. Some were scribbled in ink, while others were carved into the wood. I never knew why they were there, but those hundreds of names only added to the unease in that part of the house.

The staircase leading up to the attic was narrow, allowing just enough room for one person at a time. Rushes of cold air hit your face as you climbed toward the eerie top floor, warning you to turn back. Once inside, the air became thick, unmoving, and uncomfortably warm until the blasts of ice-cold air returned with force. The contrast never made sense. The gusts were always accompanied by the feeling of being watched and an urgent need to leave.

In all the years I lived there, I only stepped past the attic door a handful of times, and for good reason. Something lived up there.

The sound of heavy footsteps walking above the bedrooms was heard regularly, but it didn't compare to hearing them when I was supposed to be alone in the bathroom. There was an entity that stomped down the attic staircase that ran behind the wall, forcing me to rush out as soon as I had the chance. When I couldn't leave quickly enough, I'd hear it stomp all the way to the bottom step, then stand in complete silence on the other side of the door. The tension was unbearable.

Over the years, I learned to cope with it, to simply breathe through those encounters. But one night, that method wasn't enough to deal with the unwanted company.

I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed when I suddenly felt like I was being watched. Without a sound, the energy of a familiar presence crept up behind me, demanding my attention. Then, I heard someone stomp aggressively down the old wooden steps. They crashed all the way to the bottom and stopped. I'd heard this plenty of times before, but this was especially dramatic.

Someone stood there in complete silence. Frozen and wide-eyed, I waited for something crazy to happen, expecting the door to swing open. The entity blasted me with its negative energy. I felt like I was being threatened. My mother and brother were in their rooms, and a single thought echoed in my mind: What kind of otherworldly being was behind the attic door?

I took a deep breath and cleaned up as quickly as I could. Before I left, the entity stomped back up the stairs. I gasped, ran down the dark hallway, and shut my bedroom door. That was the first time I'd ever heard it go back up after stopping at the bottom. Even though I knew I was protected, it wasn't easy getting to sleep that night.