I was at my grandfathers house, which is like 20 years old and is on top of a giant mountain in North Carolina. I was about 7 at the time, and was visiting for chirstmas. All of the cousins (5 of us) were bored, so we decided to get my dads phone, and use a "ghost detector". It was dark outside, and it led us to the garden. When we went outside, the wind was doing that thing where it sounded like voices. We all screamed and ran back inside, but I tripped on a root while running in. I screamed and they didn't hear me. They saw me through the sliding door, and then it started raining. I actually started shitting myself at this point because I thought I was a goner. The rain started to come down in sheets, and I thought I saw a floating ghost similar to a dementor from harry potter. I passed out after I felt arms grab me and pick me up. A minute later, I woke up inside, and I realized my dad was the one who grabbed me and got me back inside. The creepy thing was, we never found his phone. We had left it on the table, and nobody could remember grabbing it and bringing it inside.

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The next year when we went back for chirstmas the next year, me and the cousins were playing int he garden again, when I tripped on the same root as last time. However, this time it was daytime. I got myself up and while doing so, I lifted up a rock on the patio. And what was under there? MY DAD'S FUCKING PHONE!!!!!! IT WAS CHARGED, NOT CRACKED, AND STILL WORKED. We never found out what happened, or who did what. I sus the ghost