My Grandparents owned the former Methodist and Episcopal church grounds outside my hometown. A lot of aunts and uncles (there are 14 of them) were raised in the very old (and many claim haunted) Methodist rectory. Us grandkids grew up playing in the old cemeteries. We would make up stories about the people buried there. For example one lone stone, and the poor lady who belonged to it, were in located in a tiny clearing of a little copse of trees. She was our victim in an Indian raid. Shows how PC we were back in the 80s. Though we played among them in the day, not a one of us wanted to cross the yard at night. The headstones have almost all been removed now. One still peeps up here and there. And that, my friends, is the closest I've ever come to a ghost.
Have a Safe and Fun day!!