All my life, I have hated haunted houses. Reason being, I grew up in one. Say what you will about ghosts or spirits being real, but if you had experienced what our family did in that old house, you'd be a little skittish too.

In the small town of Durand, we lived in a house (not the one pictured) where several bizarre and scary events took place. I remember my aunt was at the house alone one day helping my parents paint. Our vicious dog, Rusty, began barking up the stairs. Aunt Debby went to investigate, and as her and the dog made it to the top of the stairs and took a few steps down the hallway, the lights went out. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and our fearless dog whimpered as he bolted downstairs. She followed at a quick pace and walked straight to her car, leaving the house open and unlocked, and drove home shaking the whole way. She said that she felt a dark presence that terrified her, and apparently scared the dog too.

I remember another occasion in which I woke up my parents by jumping on their bed and yelling "It's raining in the house!" They found that our heavy claw-footed cast iron bathtub had been ripped up from where it was supposed to be, and was now on its side across the room. My dad insisted that water pressure would not have caused that to happen, but instead would have likely just knocked it off the fixture. It took six strong men to move this thing, not an easy feat.

There were several other instances that I can remember, some very vividly, but there is one that happened repeatedly and consistently. There were three doors to the house, the front, side and back. We always used the front and back, but never the side. It was locked the majority of the time. Every time we got a fresh snow, we would always hear a knocking on the side door. We would to took answer it and there was no one there, and there were no footprints in the snow. Then our neighbor told us a piece of information that completely stunned us.

We learned that years ago, the man that lived there was outside shoveling snow. He began to have a heart attack and crawled up the side stairs and knocked on the door to get someone to help him. You guessed it, he died knocking on the door as it snowed.

No one was ever physically hurt in that house, but I can't say that we didn't suffer some emotional damage. Living there for years with no explanation of what was happening or why caused so much anticipation and fear. Once we learned of the circumstances surrounding the side door and the man who had died there, my parents had a priest over to perform an exorcism at the house. Since then, the house has been completely quiet. No more odd noises, no more eerie or hair-raising feelings of unease, no more bathtubs flying across the room. We moved out of that house in 1991, but every time I drive by I still get goosebumps.

Have you ever had any creepy experiences like that? I'd love to hear your stories. Happy Halloween!

More From Cars 108