Linkwood House

I would love to share the several stories I have! I have been trying to tell others my stories my entire life and have gotten looked at like I was nuts.

My stories go back to before I was even born, and as far back as I can possibly remember up until I was around 17 when I moved out. In Brack-Ex, right outside of Elsmere, Delaware, I lived in a house on Linkwood Avenue that was built in the 1950's and sold to my Grandparents in the 1980's. I am unfamiliar with the home's history before my Grandparents, but I was told that when the house was first purchased (or shortly after purchasing), my Grandfather had to remove two headstones that were put in the front yard by a big tree near the front porch. Apparently, my Grandfather threw them beyond the backyard/property line where there were tons of bamboo and train tracks. However, this is was thought to be a random prank. Or maybe the 'prank' part was cover up because my Grandparents didn't want us believing/messing with the ghosts in our house.

I was raised in a heavily religious family. My Grandmother was old school Italian, the best cook you could ever meet, and she had the kindest heart you could imagine. Every one who came in our house called her 'Mom," because, well, that was just her personality in the best way. Even to me. So I will refer to her as Mom here. To give a visual of the house, my Mom collected porcelain dolls, angel figurines, and crosses. They were literally everywhere decorating the entire house in a way that if there was an open space, it was taken with a clutter of some sort.

My Mom once was standing in the bathroom, with the medicine cabinet mirror facing outward, doing her hair, and was talking to my aunt who was standing at the doorway. Suddenly, she saw my Dad standing behind my aunt in the hallway in the reflection of the mirror. He was just staring off with an expressionless face. He was there, then he wasn't. So she said to my Aunt, where did your Brother go? He was just standing right there and I needed to ask him something. My Aunt proceeded to call my Dad at a friend's home number, and it turns out, my Dad hadn't been home for several hours, and certainly was not just standing behind my Aunt in the doorway. This is the only story my Mom ever told.

Mom believed that the more you pay attention to it, the more occurrences happen.

Both of my Grandparents ended up passing away in that home. In the same bedroom. A pretty gruesome death too, battling Cancer. There was also someone who had cut themselves pretty bad in our bathtub in the more recent years. The person didn't die, but it was bad enough that lots of blood had to be cleaned.

After my Mom died, we all slept in the living room together as a way to cope. We didn't want to be alone. The night of Mom's funeral, I was trying to fall asleep but had opened my eyes to see down the hallway and in the reflection of this old oval mirror, was her face staring back at me. She was wearing her favorite black robe. Smiling. I never slept on the couch facing that way ever again.

I had night terrors often, almost nightly. I was terrified all the time in the house growing up. I felt watched, constantly. I always felt uneasy. Always felt there was a presence. I slept with my Mom in the same bed in her room every single night up until she passed away, when I was 13. That room had a lot of activity. There would be nights where she would be asleep, and I would watch as this black shadow thing would dance in the corners of the ceiling and then go away. The blanket covering my eyes was my best friend. This happened so many times it almost felt routine and started to not frighten me anymore.

One night, I was wide awake as she slept. I looked down to the foot of the bed and saw the figure of a woman standing there. It looked like a shadow, but I could tell it was a woman because it was in the shape of a woman and had breasts and a curved figure. It also seemed to have had some kind of wrap on its head. At the time to me as a child, I figured it was a towel. This figure kept doing the weirdest dance at the foot of the bed. It was stomping its legs and its arms were extended out vertically and moving up and down and the figure would just turn in circles. This went on for I don't even know how long; time stood still. I was just stuck staring at it and couldn't look away. I don't remember how it stopped, but all I could do was wrap my arm around my Grandmother and fall asleep next to her, scared shiatless, but not wanting to disturb her.

During the day, I was in my bedroom minding my own business, playing with my Barbie dolls and dollhouses. The only two people that were home were me and Mom. She was at the front of the house in the living room watching her favorite show while I was in the back of the house in my room. The bedroom door was open. Suddenly, right outside my door I hear clear as day, something whisper out loud "TELL HER!, JUST TELL HER!" I immediately dropped what I had in my hand and ran out of my room so quickly you'd think I was on fire. I told my Mom what happened and she brushed it off. Told me to go back and play. I assure you, there was nobody else home. No way it was Mom, she was at the other end of the house and the whispers were so vivid, clear, and loud. I also didn't have a TV in my room yet. From that day on, I shut and locked my bedroom door, no matter what.

There were several occasions that I would hear knocking at my bedroom door, and would open it and nobody would be there. I hounded everyone in the house so many times and even ask to this day if anyone was messing me and they all swear up and down no. I would also hear my name be called a lot and nobody was actually calling it.

One morning as a teenager I was sleeping facing the wall and hearing my name be called right in my ear. It woke me up out of a deep sleep. I turned around almost immediately, no one was there. My door was still shut, and locked like it was before I fell asleep.

This is the one that creeps me out the most still to this day. I mentioned before that my Mom collected porcelain dolls and that they were everywhere throughout the house. At least a hundred of them. Well, my Mom started buying me my own as well. First and foremost, they always creeped me out. I always felt like they were watching me and it seemed like their eyes would follow me as I walked by them. There was a bride doll in my Mom's room that looked just like her and I was deathly afraid of it. I had night terrors of it a lot. Anyway, one day I was playing around with my porcelain doll. It had blue eyes, blonde hair, black pants, a black checkered top, and a cute little hat and purse. I had accidentally dropped it on the carpet and it landed face down. I for whatever reason apologized to it (I was a child) and picked it up. I faced it toward me and I kid you not, it had a tear rolling down its cheek. I can't make this stuff up, and I sort of wish I was. After I saw that, I put it back up on the shelf in my grandfather's room and never played with or touched it again. Or any of the other dolls for that matter.

One day I was on my little swing set in the yard, swinging. Our yard was surrounded by woods. To my right, there was a little opening. Well out of nowhere, there was a man that popped out and made me look up as I heard rustling of leaves. He was just standing there in this odd position. As a kid, I thought it was some stranger trying to kidnap me or something, so I instantly ran forward as fast as I could inside the house and shut and locked the glass door behind me. But nobody followed. I didn't see anyone. I didn't tell my Mom about this either because I didn't want to worry her, and she was the only one home. I also didn't tell her, because I ended up realizing it was an apparition. I know this because of the way the man was dressed. He was dressed exactly like a pioneer from the late 1800's early 1900's.Brown pants with suspenders, a white button down shirt, boots, and a brown hat. The man had shoulder length messy light brown hair. He had really tan skin but also had dirt on his face. It looked like a man you would see in the show 'Little House on The Prairie.' Which ironically, was one of my Moms favorite shows. I don't think a kidnapper would be wearing something like that in the early 2000's.

Late at night I was standing in the dark kitchen eating a snack as the dining room light behind me illuminated my way enough. The kitchen had a fairly large window. At the time, I could not see anything out of it. It was pitch black. I could see the reflection of the kitchen wallpaper. And on it, I saw two shadows pass by, one after the other. I looked behind me and nothing was there. This type of occurrence would happen frequently, seeing shadows out of the corner of my eye. But this occasion sticks out the most to me.

Every one had an imaginary friend as a child, right? Well I named mine Alesha for whatever reason. As I grew up, I went through a short phase of pretending Alesha was real. Remember earlier I mentioned that my Mom once said 'the more attention you give it, the more active it is.' Well I found out she was absolutely correct. As I gave Alesha more attention I felt as I was being watched more and more. Felt uneasy more and more. Now this right here still gives me chills today; when it was dinner time and I would get called to the table, I would say "Come on Alesha, time for dinner!" and as I would walk to the kitchen, I would look behind me, and see little footprints appear in the blue carpet behind me, following. This didn't happen every day, but it did happen several times. One day, I saw a girl's face in the reflection of the TV that I finally got in my room, and it scared the living hell out of me. I figured it was Alesha. From that point on, I stopped giving Alesha attention. And I never saw footsteps again.

So those are my stories. My 110% true, can replay memories in my head, true encounters. I have not lived in that house since I was 17. I am now almost 30. My father still lives in that house, but says he doesn't have any encounters. Me however, I refuse to sleep in that house again. I refuse to go in alone at night time. As soon as I walk in, every single time, I get this overwhelming shadow of depression and negative energy that floods over my entire body. And I start to feel like I'm being watched again. There is definitely something in that house. I wanted to be ballsy and play with a Ouija board in there as an adult, but my Dad won't allow it. Which is probably a good thing.