This is a story from my parent's, so I cannot corroborate it, but keep in mind that they're terrible liars, and can't keep a straight face for their lives.
Creepy part one:
A little while before I or my older sister were born, my parent's lived in a...somewhat different house. My father had lived in it alone for some time before he got together with my mom, and every night, the closet door would come open.
So, being creeped out by this, he nailed the door shut (he had the house to himself, and didn't need the space in the closet.
Every morning, the fucking thing would be open. Nails on the ground.
Creepy part two: I don't know if the house was one or two stories, but I do know that it had a basement, where the washing and drying machines were kept. The basement wasn't fancy--it had dirt floors, in fact--and when they went down there, my parent's swore to me that they heard the faint sounds of cult-like chanting.
Eventually, my mom got so freaked out by it that she refused to go down there alone.
Creepy Part Three: Eventually, they got a Rottweiler together. However, he was not yet the 165 lb beast I knew when I was a kid--he was still a puppy.
He would do weird things in the house. He stared and growled at walls, refused to go down to the basement, and wouldn't go anywhere near the closet.
One day, my dad went off with a friend, leaving my mom alone with the dog. After night fell, she heard someone whisper "get out of the house", which she brushed off. But it repeated itself, getting louder and crueler, until it was screaming at her.
This was apparently the last straw for her, and she immediately demanded that my dad move out after this.
His friend moved in afterwards, laughing at his stories--and was gone withing a month, admitting there was something wrong about the house.
Now, I'm an athiest and a skeptic, so I don't really buy the "ghost" explanation, and the part where the house told my mom to get out sounds like a bad prank by my dad--but they're terrible liars, and have stuck with this story for 15 or so years, and my dad's friend has corroborated it.
but frankly, the idea of a crazed person breaking into the house, pulling out nails, setting up speakers to sound like demonic chanting in the basement, and screaming at my mother to get out is plenty creepy enough for me.