Though I consider myself a skeptic, I've had a few strange things happen to me in my childhood home, the house I had lived in since I was 1 and a half until I graduated high school. The one that stands out the most is when I was sixteen. I was home alone -- isn't that always the way? -- sitting in the basement on the computer, listening to music, and chatting with my friends online.

During the lull of quiet between two songs, I thought I heard footsteps overhead. It sounded like they were wearing boots, and walking through the kitchen.

I assumed it was my dad, having popped back from my grandmother's to grab something, in such a rush that he didn't even take off his shoes. As I had a message I needed to give him, I went to the bottom of the stairs and called for him.

There was no answer.

Thinking he might've not heard me, I scaled the basement stairs and went to look for him. To my surprise, all the lights on the upper floor were turned off. There didn't appear to be anyone home after all.

Somewhat creeped out, I descended the stairs again, thinking that I must've misheard it. I returned to my computer and turned the music back on.

A few song later, during another lull between the songs, I heard it again. This time I paused the song to make sure, and I was right -- there were footsteps walking over head. This was not just the house settling; I had lived there for most of my natural life, I knew what that sounded like. This, however, distinctly sounded like footsteps.

Believing that I must've somehow just missed my dad -- had he ducked into the upstairs office? -- I returned upstairs, but once again, the lights were all off and it was quiet. Determined, I searched the entire upper floor... and found no one. I was alone in the house.

Unsure what else to do, I returned to the basement, turned up my music, and switched on the TV to drown out any other sounds... then waited for my parents to return.