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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.