Strange sounds and knocking in a rented Moscow flat

Spilling my cool story, anons.

So, it happened in 2021, I had just moved to Moscow, got a job, and rented a room in a three-room flat from an acquaintance. We lived like best buds, soul to soul, whatever.

One time I jokingly ask, like, so the place is ghost-free? She jokes back, says her mom specifically bought a flat in a new building so there wouldn't be any ghosts.

Anyway, one night, a month or two after I moved in, sounds started appearing — glass jars rolling on the floor. Like back-and-forth, back-and-forth they're being rolled, and this goes on for like 15 minutes. It was messing with my head, so I just sat there, listened to music in my room and smoked cigs to distract myself.

Then it gets worse. At some point the jar-ghost starts getting bold, and one night it KNOCKS ON MY DOOR. Literally, at 3 a.m. someone knocks on my door, confidently and loudly, like 3-4 times. It's not just "knock knock", it's a confident sound.

I'm in the flat, my friend is there, the door is closed, it's three in the fucking morning.
I ask the air "who's there?" Silence.
Clenching my asshole, I go out into the completely dark hallway with a flashlight, no one. A feeling that all the darkness of the hallway is staring at me right now. On tiptoes I fucking dash to my friend's room, crack the door open, ask (again to the air) "friend_name, was that you knocking?" In response I only hear snoring. I went back to my room, got under the blanket, and fell asleep as fast as I could to forget this shit.

After that, weird stuff happened with varying frequency, but at some point I started feeling some fucking whispers that asked how I was doing and sometimes called me by name. And I'm not crazy, that had never happened before (and hasn't happened since that cursed flat).

Then the final shit happened that made me shit myself. The landlady (who's also my friend) went to her mom's dacha, left the flat to me, like, hang out, do whatever you want, I'll be back Monday.

Night, I'm listening to music, smoking a cig out the window. The creepy stuff makes itself known again, strange rustling, sounds of jars and creaks, I sit there with a brick face. Don't give a fuck anymore.
At some point I'm really scared to go out, but at some point I have to piss so bad that I say out loud "I don't give a fuck, you fucking spirits, I want to piss!" and I run down the hallway to the light switch, as fast as I can I flip the light in the hallway and THE BULB LIGHTS UP LIKE A FUCKING FLARE, FLASHES, AND AFTER THAT THE ELECTRICITY CUTS OUT IN THE WHOLE FLAT.

As you can imagine, I was properly freaked out, ran back to my room and went to sleep. In the morning I found the circuit breakers had tripped. Fuck knows, maybe the wiring. After that the creepy stuff calmed down, but a bit later an anon moved into the third room, we became friends and generally the whole flat lived cool. So, the anon several times caught panic attacks in the third room (which seemed to me the most paranormal in the house), and during one of those episodes an icon fell, and its glass shattered into a fuckton of pieces, like someone shot at it.

That's the story, anon.