Here we go.
During the summer when I was 13, my dad took a new job about an hour away from where I grew up. Rather than commute, he decided to move us to an historic neighborhood in the city he was working in. My mom had always wanted an old pier and beam house so my dad bought one that was built in the 20's. It had 3 bedrooms upstairs and I picked the one that was converted from one of the attic spaces because it looked like the third floor Kevin had to sleep in when he got in trouble on Home Alone. There were a few kids my age in the neighborhood and we quickly became friends. One of the first things they told me is there was a murder/suicide in the house back in the 70's. The husband of the family had been leading a secret life as a cross dresser. He had a boyfriend and everything. The wife found out and shot him and then herself upstairs while their kids were downstairs. They also told me it happened in my room. That was probably a bull**** lie they made up to make it even worse. Regardless, it terrified my 13 year old self. I asked my parents about it and they said they hadn't heard anything about a murder happening in the house. My dad basically told me to grow a pair. I spent the next week or two before school sleeping in my brother's room and on the couch. When school started, My parents pretty much forced me to sleep in my room. After a few quiet nights, I let it go and everything was fine. A few other kids I met in school mentioned the murder/suicide happening in our house but for the most part, nobody knew much about it. The next summer, I woke up one morning and noticed my mattress was hanging off the box spring about 6 inches. Not a big deal. I figured I moved it tossing and turning in my sleep. Next morning, same thing. It stopped for a couple of days then I woke up to it hanging almost half way off of the bed. The very next night I wake up to the light on and the ceiling fan on full blast buzzing loudly. I never turned the ceiling fan on for that reason and I hadn't turned it on that night. I get up, turn both of them off, and get back in bed with the mental picture of the murder suicide that supposedly happened in my room creeping into my mind. I was lying on my stomach when suddenly it felt like a horse kicked me in my side. It hit me with such force that it knocked me and the mattress off the bed. It made such a loud noise it woke both of my parents up. I don't really remember much about what happened next but when they came upstairs to see what was going on they said I was crawling towards the door and couldn't stand for a few minutes after. They thought I had a seizure and fell of the bed. There was no bruising on my side whatsoever. I spent the next months first in my brother's room and then in the other bedroom upstairs barely sleeping and terrified out of my mind. My dad got offered a higher position in his old company in the town I grew up in and we ended up selling the house and moving back.
I grew up going to Sunday school and church. You're told your entire life to believe one thing and suddenly something like this happens. It really made me question my faith for a while. I posted an experience about a friend in a dream who had died in a car accident the day before. That was actually what brought me back around.
It took me a while to post this one because I knew it would take me forever to type and I probably wouldn't sleep if I spent that long thinking about it. But if you guys can get your paranormal rocks off at my expense, then it's my pleasure.