I lived here while I was pregnant with my son. It was pretty docile at first but slowly got weird. For starters, at 2am every night, I’d wake up to sax music. I’d search the house for it and it was always coming from my moms room. Secondly, if you were alone, you’d hear the door unlock and open and someone come in and no one was there. After my son, I experienced a breakup in that house and it was like a poltergeist or something. Every night I’d be in my living room and the door knob to the front door would turn back and forth and you’d see shadows with no one there, and one night, in the pit of my depression around 2-4 am, I laid in my bed and watched a book and a picture of me look like it got carelessly thrown off my dresser and then I went numb and felt like an extremely pissed off man if that makes sense. I would try to say I was a woman in my head and I couldn’t. Someone would say I’m a man. When I got up I don’t remember much my mom said I checked the rooms and told her I don’t feel right and she was concerned because my voice was deeper. Manlier? I only remember being in our kitchen and my mom coming at me with a rosary after a puzzle we were making flying off the table behind me. This is one house I’d never ever step foot into again because I’m pretty sure that was a possession and I never believed in those.