Heard or felt? Yes. Saw? I think so. This may be a little long.
When I was a teenager, my parents bought an old house (around the 100yr mark, I think). The house always felt weird to me. Before we moved in, I was doing some work on what would be my room. It was all the way at the end of the hall. As I was working (alone in the house), I heard a noise (or maybe had a feeling. I don't remember which). I stopped what I was doing and went to the doorway to look down the hall. I thought I saw a man duck into the room the furthest away from mine. It was just shadowy enough that I wasn't sure what I saw and convinced myself that it must be my imagination. I went back to work, but again stopped what I was doing and looked out into the hall. I saw the same thing, but the next room closer to me.
"Couldn't have seen it, couldn't have seen it," I said over and over to myself. I went back to work, but it happened a few more times. When it got to the point where I thought I saw "him" ducking into the room next to where I was, I dropped everything and ran out of the house.
This sort of thing happened several times. I heard noises, voices, I felt like I was being watched. In future trips to the house, I brought my dog with me, but she was too aware of everything to make me feel better. My parents made fun of me and said, "The ghosts are going to get ya!" I wasn't amused.
My grandmother was visiting once and came with me while I did some more work in my room. She knew I was nervous and knew I wasn't crazy, so came to sit with me. As I worked, the noises started to pick up. I looked at her and said, "Did you hear that?"
"Yes! I did hear that."
"Oh, good, I'm not crazy!" I said.
That house was crazy. There was something...mean...in the attic. I can't explain it. And in the upstairs hallway there was something that just wanted to watch you.
A few years later, Husband and I were living in our first apartment. It was a very, very old house for the US (200-300 years). It had been a wealthy family's house that had been converted over time to apartments. The 3rd floor, which had several rooms in it, had been sectioned off from the other two floors to make an attic. We were allowed to use that area as storage.
I went up to put some of our things away up there, and decided to use the room that would have been right above our apartment, but stopped. The room was...how do I even explain this? The room was WRONG. Yes, it was *physically* darker in that room, but there was more to it. It felt downright bad. Something told me not to go in there. I put our things across the hall instead. Occasionally, I would be putting something away and feel so horrified of the room across the hall that I would run out and leave all the doors open just to get out.
During this time Husband worked late at night/early in the morning. While he was gone (it NEVER happened while he was there), I would hear definite footsteps from the third floor. Solid. Not I *think* I heard them, but I *did* hear them. I went through how the third floor was arranged in my mind. Guess which room they were coming from? Yep, the room I was terrified of.
