When I was about 11 years old, and living in an Old Queenslander (Australian term for an old "traditional" house), I woke up in the late hours of the night. I was a little groggy, and I didn't know what woke me up.
Looking over to a corner of the room, diagonally in front of me, I made out a figure. It was wearing a long detective-style coat that covered its whole body, and a hat that was bent over its face. It looked like it was hunching, so I couldn't see its face, and only a triangle of darkness between the hat and closed coat.
I immediately was frightened by this figure, and hid my head under my pillow, as I felt too scared to call out. I stayed under my pillow for a couple of minutes, before deciding to look out directly to the right of my bed. The figure was there again, in a different spot, to the side of my bed.
I didn't feel menace, or an evil aura from it, but it still frightened me nonetheless, and I put my head under my pillow yet again. After a couple of minutes, I could feel some tension in the room, as if a collective breath was being held. I started to calm down, thinking that maybe I had imagined it and that I should go back to sleep.
That was when a hand roughly grabbed my thigh, and I froze. I could feel the hand on me, almost as if it was melting into my skin. Soon enough, I started to cry and call out to my mother in the next room. Nothing was found, and nothing similar has happened since.