I grew up in a small town in north Georgia. The house my family lived in used to belong to two brothers that where both mentaly hanicaped. I was told after we moved in that both brothers had died in the house in a murder-suicide.
The house always had noises. I was a very light sleeper and I could hear what sounded like people walking around late at night after everyone was in bed. I fell asleep on the couch one night and my parents had left me there to sleep. I awoke to the sound of someone walking by the couch I was sleeping on, but when I opened my eyes there was no one there, but I could clearly hear them walking around the room beside me.
The strangest thing happend one night when I was in my bed and my TV came on by itself. It was nothing but snow. I looked up and just inside my doorway was a man standing there. It was not my father, for he was far too short and skinny to be him. The man took a few steps into my room and told me it was okay, he was just checking on me.
I never felt afraid of the man or the fact that he walked around my house. It was kind of nice knowing he was there watching after us. Some years later, we where doing some remodling of the house and found some pictures in a small box in a wall. In it was a pitcure of the man. As I grew older, I didn't notice the man as much as I used to, but my parents still tell me they hear him walking around sometimes.