About 20 years ago, the wife and I ended up at the Victoria Hotel in Robin Hoods Bay, the one at the top of the cliff. There were two rooms available - one en suite, the other with a sea view. The Mrs decided on the latter.
The obligatory post-midnight trek meant a trip across the landing to the corridor opposite. Beyond a heavy fire door there were probably two or three toilet cubicles, with a bathroom at the end. I'd guess the facilities hadn't been updated in at least 50 years.
As I was taking my ease, I heard heavy footsteps stomp down the corridor. The toilet door handle was rattled, then the footsteps headed towards the bathroom at the end of the corridor.
I thought it a bit odd as
a) I didn't hear the fire door at the start of the corridor open or slam shut and
b) there was at least one other toilet cubicle unoccupied and the door open, so why try the handle on my trap and
c) the footsteps carried on to the bathroom, not stopping at another toilet.
I was a bit uncomfortable, but curious as to who had tried the door handle. So I went down to the bathroom and switched the light on, but it was empty. So there was nothing or nobody that was or had been in that stretch between the fire door and the bathroom that could have rattled the door handle.
As I turned backed down the corridor towards the fire door, the hair on my back stood on end and I was filled with a feeling of absolute terror, with a voice in my head saying, "Do not turn round to look at me..."
I didn't need to be told twice. I legged it back to the bedroom.
The next morning the Mrs and I shared a relaxed breakfast. I thought it best not to mention anything until we were clear of the place.
As we were driving away, we turned to each other and almost simultaneously said, "Do you know what, a funny thing happened when I went to the toilet last night..."