Sleep in a Haunted House

“But as a broke graduate student, it was what I could afford, so I went to sleep. But soon after, someone ran down the hall and pushed on every single door to see if one would open. I thought that was odd, but went back asleep, until the same thing woke me an hour later. I realized someone was doing it, strategically every hour, to see who they could rob. That scared me so much I had an adrenaline rush and moved the only other thing in the room besides the melted radiator (a 200-pound wardrobe) to block the door for extra safety, then went back to sleep. For context, I am 5 feet tall with no upper body strength, so adrenaline is the only explanation. Then I woke to light behind my eyes coming from the hallway. The door to my hotel room was open, the wardrobe had been returned, soundlessly, and there was a lanky man sitting in a chair by the door. His skinny legs were twice the length of his sitting body. I sat up and said, shakily, “What are you doing in my room?” I could only see half his face, because of the light from the hall, but he looked my age, and he was wearing a dirty white shirt, and a tweed newsboy cap and pants, held up by suspenders. He turned to me and said, “Oh. I haven’t even gotten started yet.” Then he smiled. Slowly. I woke up to someone pushing on the door again, testing their ability to break in. The door was still closed with the wardrobe still blocking it. The chair and the “1800s ghost” were gone.”

“Yes, Bar Harbor Maine, around summer 1963. My family were on a road trip vacation. We arrived late in the evening, and the hotel we planned on staying had no vacancy. At the desk, we were told that they often booked overflow guests at a boarding house, run by a sweet old lady. [...] We settled in for the night, and we heard banging and footsteps from the floor above. My brother and I employed the tried and true ‘pulling the covers over our head’, but the banging and footsteps continued to the point that my brother and I ran Nextdoor to our parents room, yelling(crying, lol )to let us in. My parents were aware of the noises, but it was too late to find another place to sleep, so my brother slept in our parents room with my mom, and dad and I slept in ‘the boys’ room. It was a long night, with eventual sleep. As we checked out a day early, my father complained that we had a terrible night with all the noise. The owner( remember sweet old lady) said that “Harold was very active last night, that sometimes happens when there are children in the house”. Mom asked who was Harold, and we were told he was the original owner of the house, who never left, even after he had passed away.”