More true stories about kids and their creepy imaginary friends.
My sister got married when she was 18. She had a daughter named Suzy. Her husband was unemployed. She had to work 2 jobs to support herself, her daughter and her lazy husband. Every day, she left the house at 8 AM and she only returned home at 8 PM every night.
Around this time, Suzy had an imaginary friend. She told my sister it was a little girl named “Dissaga”. Suzy would talk about “Dissaga” all the time. My sister even overheard her talking to “Dissaga”. It creeped her out and after a while, she told Suzy she was forbidden to talk about “Dissaga”. We weren’t allowed to mention “Dissaga” when we came over to visit.
One day, Suzy told her mom, “Dissaga is mad at you because you dont believe she’s real. She comes to play with me when Daddy closes the closet door after you leave and he lets us out before you come home…”
My sister had no idea this was happening. Her husband was supposed to be watching Suzy during the day. Instead, he would lock her in a closet with a box of cereal and leave her there all day. When my sister discovered what was going on, she kicked her husband out.
Creepy, right? The poor little girl spent so much time all alone, locked in a closet, that she had conjured up an imaginary playmate for herself. But wait for it. Here comes the really creepy part.
My sister divorced her husband and got custody of Suzy. She decided to move out of the house they were renting. When the moving van came, the old man who owned the house came over to help them. He was talking to my sister and said, “I was always worried about your little girl on those basement stairs. My little granddaughter fell down those basement stairs and broke her neck. She died in front of that closet door down there.”
When she heard that, my sister got the chills. “What was her name?” she asked. “It wasn’t Dissaga was it?”
The old man looked at her and said, “Her name was Jessica. She was only 4 years old. She couldn’t say it properly… How did you know that’s how she said her name? Dissaga! HOW DID YOU KNOW??”
My sister was in denial. She told him she didn’t know what he was talking about. She refused to talk about it, grabbed the last of her things and left the house for good.
Even today, we’re still not allowed to talk about Suzy and her imaginary friend “Dissaga”. My sister remarried a few years later. Suzy got a great new stepdad and, so far, they’ve lived happily ever after.
They Were Both Dead
I used to babysit a kid who had two imaginary friends. He told me they were both dead. One was an old lady and the other had no head. They were both covered in blood. The one with no head had his insides sticking out of his neck. After he told me that, I didn’t ask him any more questions.
Icy Wants Me to Tell You
My best friend had a little sister who was five or six years old. She had an imaginary friend named Icy. One day, I was waiting for him to come downstairs when his sister came up to me and said, “Icy told me to ask you if you know when you’re going to die.” I laughed nervously, but I played along. “No, of course not,” I said. “No one knows that. Hopefully I won’t die until I’m very old.” The little girl shook her head sadly and said, “No, Icy wants me to tell you it’ll be tonight.” And with that, she just walked away.
My parents told me that, when I was about 3 or 4, I had an imaginary friend named “Jinn”. Apparently, I told them she was an old lady and she lived in our backyard. My parents said I talked about her all the time and I warned them not to let her inside the house. My parents were so freaked out by it that they went to a Christian pastor for advice. He told them the name sounded familiar and said he would do some research on it. He mentioned it to a Muslim friend of his who told him that, in Islamic belief, a djinn is a demon that attaches itself to people or inanimate objects. As it turns out, my grandfather had brought home a hand-carved table from Saudi Arabia during one of his military tours and he had given it to my parents as a present. They left it outside on the garden patio. My dad wanted to get rid of it. He was going to sell it, but the pastor told him to burn it. He did and I never saw or talked about the old lady again.
They Won’t Be Laughing
When I was young, I moved to a new country. Since I didn’t have any real friends, I made up imaginary friends. I was always afraid of being rejected or laughed at. I had this belief that all the people that were mean to me would go to hell and burn. One day, my parents were out and my grandmother made me dinner. She didn’t know about my imaginary friends. I looked at the empty chair beside me and said “Hey, aren’t you hungry? Eat up! They might be laughing now, but they won’t be laughing once they’re all on fire!” My grandmother gave me a weird look and for a whole year afterwards, she tried to tell my mom that I was possessed by the devil.
As a kid, I had an imaginary friend who was a ghost. I called him Spooky Guy and told my mother he died in the garage of the house on the hill behind ours. I said he was a 16-year old boy who got into a car crash. He walked to that house and asked to use their phone. The person who lived there grabbed him and killed him in the garage. This scared my mom so much that she tried to look up records to see if that actually happened and got me a therapist.
It is the Punishment
A friend of the family asked me to babysit their six-year old son. I put him to bed and a couple of hours later, I decided to peek in to check on him. When I opened the door, I saw he was standing in the corner, facing the wall. It was one of the creepiest things I’ve ever seen. I asked him what he was doing and all he did was turn around and put his finger to his lips as if to say “shhh”. I asked him again what he was doing and all he said was, “Leave us. It is the punishment…”
When my cousin was little, he had an imaginary friend. He called him “Bee-jebuh”. He claimed that Bee-jebuh was a monster and sometimes he would tell him to do bad things. After a few weeks of this, his mother told him never to talk about Bee-jebuh again. Apparently, the name my cousin was trying to pronounce was “Beelzebub”.
I live in an old 3-story house with a hidden attic. This attic room always had a creepy vibe. The only way to get into the attic was through a hidden panel in the ceiling. You had to push it and a set of retractable stairs would come down.
One day, my sister came to visit and she brought my nephew with her. He was 5 years old and it was the first time he had been in the house. There was a group of us in the house. We had dinner and afterwards, we stayed in the kitchen talking. Then we suddenly realized that my nephew was nowhere to be seen. We started calling out his name and searching frantically for him. There were 9 people running around the house, shouting his name and around looking for him. I checked the street outside, the garage, the downstairs, the upstairs. There was no trace of him. It was as if he had disappeared.
We were about to call the police and I was standing in the upstairs hallway. Just then, the panel in the ceiling above me opened and I saw my little nephew. He had a blank look on his face and no emotion in his eyes. I pulled the retractable stairs down and brought him down. “How did you get up there?” I said. “Why didn’t you answer when we were calling you?”
The kid looked me straight in the eye and said, “I was just playing with Andy up there. He showed me the stairs and told me to be quiet because we were playing hide and seek.” There was no way he could have known about the hidden attic and there was no way he could have reached the panel to pull down the stairs. Ever since then, I have avoided that attic room.
Red Glowing Eyes
When my son was 4 years old, he told me he had an imaginary friend who would sit in the corner in the dark and light up the room with his red, glowing eyes.
When I was 3 years old, I had an imaginary friend named Facey. Whenever I drew pictures of her, she never had a face. No eyes, no nose, no mouth. My mom asked me why she didn’t have any facial features and I said, “She isn’t living anymore so she isn’t allowed to have a face…”
The other night, I was at dinner with my parents. We were talking about the house I grew up in. I happened to mention how much I loved that house and that I remembered playing with a boy who lived next door. His name was Berret and he taught me how to play jacks. My parents told me that the house next door was vacant and Berret was the name of my imaginary friend. I thought he was real… Creepy.
I had an imaginary friend when I was 5. At night, he would sit at the edge of my bed, talking to me for hours. One night, my mother walked in and saw me sitting up in bed, whispering to someone. She asked who I was talking to and I non-chalantly said, “Harold”. She freaked out and took me to her bedroom where she cuddled me. She was shaking and her face was pale. Apparently, Harold was the name of my stepfather’s uncle and he had died in that room several years before. I had no reason to know anything about him. She told me I described him exactly. I always did have weird dreams when I stayed in that bedroom.
When I was a little boy, we lived in the middle of nowhere. Houses were few and far between. Whenever my parents took me to visit my grandma, we had to pass a small house that was down an old dirt road. Every time we passed this house, I would tell my parents, “That’s where my sister lives!” I didn’t have a sister. I was an only child. After hearing this so many times, my parents finally asked me what my “sister’s” name was. I told them her name was Elizabeth. My parents laughed it off, until one day my mother got curious decided to find out who lived in the house. She discovered that, many years before, there was a little girl who had lived in that house and she died when she was very young. Her name was Elizabeth.
When I was about 4 or 5 years old, I had an imaginary friend. She had freckles, long curly hair and pale blue-green eyes. I didn’t talk to her or acknowledge her, but she was always just there. One day, I got curious and asked her what her name was. She said “Carson”. I said OK and she went away. I never recall seeing her again. Years later, when I was grown up, my Mom decided I was old enough to know something. She said that, before I was born, she had another baby, but it died after 4 hours. The baby’s name was Carson.