The Man With Red Eyes is a true scary story about a little boy who has what he thinks is an imaginary friend.
When I was just a little boy, I had an imaginary friend. At least, I thought he was an imaginary friend. Today, I’m not so sure.
I would see him from time to time around my house. He was a man and he lurked in the shadows. He was completely black from head to toe and his skin was charred and pock-marked, like a burnt match. I couldn’t make out his face or any other features. All I could see were his red eyes. He had the most terrifying red eyes. Even now, when I think of them, it gives me the chills.
He appeared at random and without any warning. I would be playing with my toys and all of a sudden, he would be there. He never made a sound. He never said a word. He never did anything except stand there, staring at me and smiling. Then, he would vanish as quietly and as suddenly as he had come.
As time went by, I got accustomed to his presence. It got to the point where he would appear and I would just glance at him, then go back to playing with my toys. I could always feel his eyes on me as he was standing ever so close or ever so far away.
My family knew about him, but they never saw him themselves. My mother and father thought it was cute that I had an imaginary friend, but when I described him to them, they got a little creeped out. My sister was the only one who believed he was real and she said she was scared of him.
One time, I had just finished going to the toilet and was washing my hands. I was standing on a little stool so I could reach the sink. All of a sudden, I saw the man out of the corner of my eye. He was walking up the stairs. I called my sister and told her the man was here. She came running over, but just when I was about to point at the man, he walked backwards down the stairs until he was out of sight. When she left, he came creeping back up the stairs. I gave up trying to show him to people because he clearly did not want to be seen.
Eventually, my parents moved house. I remember seeing the man with the red eyes watching as the moving van pulled away. He didn’t follow us and I didn’t see him again after that. I dismissed him as a figment of my childish imagination. Years passed and I forgot about him.
Then, one night, when I was 16 years old, I was walking upstairs to my bedroom. It was after midnight. As I was walking down the hallway, something emerged from one of the other bedrooms. It stepped out into the light and I realized, to my horror, that it was the man with the red eyes.
I stopped in my tracks and froze. My heart was in my throat. He just stood there, staring at me. The red eyes burned bright and he flashed me a malicious smile. Then, still staring at me, he slowly walked across the hallway and into my bedroom.
If this was a movie, perhaps I would have chased him down and forced him to tell me who or what he was. Perhaps it would have ended in me fighting him to the death. But this wasn’t a movie. It was real life and I did neither of these things.
I simply turned around, ran back down the stairs and fled from my house. I sat on the curb outside, shivering and shaking, until dawn arrived. I haven’t seen him again since then.