01 Feb My Imaginary Friend

Posted at 20:00h in Beings and Entities, Body Horror, Children and Childhood, Despair and Depression, Family and Generational Horror, Ghosts and Spirits, Hauntings and Haunted Locations, Isolation and Loneliness, Madness, Paranoia, and Mental Illness, Psychological Horror, Rites and Rituals, Strange and Unexplained, Suspense and Thrillers by CreepypastaStories.com 0 Comments

📅 Published on February 1, 2025

“My Imaginary Friend”

Written by Raz T. Slasher
Edited by Craig Groshek and N.M. Brown
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on CreepypastaStories.com are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

⏰ ESTIMATED READING TIME — 16 minutes

Rating: 9.50/10. From 2 votes.

Please wait...

When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend. I think a lot of kids my age did. My imaginary friend’s name was Fred. He wasn’t some weird animal or creature or anything like that, just a guy who wore a purple top hat and a bright green suit. We did all the usual things you’d expect, like tea parties and going on adventures. Sometimes, he’d even read me my favorite stories.

I didn’t have any brothers and sisters, and my parents worked a lot, so Fred quickly became my entire world. He was a funny man, always telling me jokes. Even though I didn’t always get the jokes, Fred would laugh so hard at himself that I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

I remember one day, I had just gotten off the bus on my way home from third grade, used my key to unlock the door, and found a note on the kitchen table like I always did. It was from my mom, and she told me my dinner was in the fridge.

I’d just learned how to use the microwave recently, and I was in that phase where every excuse to use it still excited me. I grabbed the leftover lasagna from the fridge, microwaved it for a few minutes, and poured myself a glass of milk.

I made quick work of my meal and headed upstairs to my bedroom to do my homework. As usual, Fred was sitting on the bed waiting for me. I smiled at him, tossed my book bag on the floor, and pulled out what I needed to get the work done. Today, it was all about math, which I wasn’t great at, but Fred was, so he gave me a hand.

With his help, I finished it in no time, and we started our daily tea party where we would relax and discuss my day. I told him about how great my teacher was and about the art project we did with the Popsicle sticks and the cotton balls. Then I told him about how little Jenny Dorner pulled my pigtails at recess. Fred frowned at that and said, “This Jenny Dorner picks on you a lot, doesn’t she?”

I nodded with a bit of a shrug. “Yeah, she’s really mean. She bullies an awful lot of kids.”

Fred didn’t seem thrilled about that at all. “How about I come to school with you tomorrow so I can protect you?”

I got super excited about that. Fred had never come to school with me before! I quickly agreed, and we went back to our tea party. Fred told me a story from when he was my age about the time his mom took him to the local candy store. I’d heard it a few times, but it was one of my favorites. We didn’t really have any stores like that; if we did, my parents never took me to it.

He’d describe all his favorite candy and inevitably pull a piece from his pocket for me to eat. That day, it was a little chocolate turtle filled with caramel and nuts. It was so delicious! We played my new favorite board game, Sorry, for a while until Mom and Dad both came home from work.

They checked to make sure I’d eaten and done all my homework, which I had. We all sat and talked for a little while like we always did before I went to bed. It was the only real family time we had during the week. It took me a little while to fall asleep that night. I was so excited about Fred coming to school with me.

The next morning, I woke up, and Dad filled a bowl of Frosted Flakes and milk for me. Fred and I waited quietly at the bus stop with a few other kids on my street, and before long, we were at my school. I gave him the grand tour of my classroom, which consisted of the rack where I hung my coat, the cubby holes we used for homework and nice little messages that our teacher, Ms. Newman, would put in there. Then I showed him my desk. Bobby Darnell usually sat next to me in class, but he was absent that day, so Fred sat there.

He seemed every bit as excited as I was when class got started. During the first part of the class, we started learning a little about the solar system. This really made me happy because I loved looking at the stars at night. I often dreamed of being the first woman in space when I grew up, living among the stars.

Fred just kept smiling and looking around the room while Ms. Newman was explaining the Milky Way. Timmy Worshire made a comment about candy bars, and just about everyone laughed, even Ms. Newman.

Eventually, it was time for lunch, so Fred and I filed out with the class and headed to the cafeteria. I was probably one of the few people who liked cafeteria food, while many of the other kids complained about it. Since it was Friday, it was pizza day, which was my favorite! They always served it with fries. I opted for the chocolate milk over the juice. I offered some to Fred, but he said he wasn’t hungry.

Once I was all done eating, we headed out to the playground for recess. I introduced Fred to the few friends I had. He smiled and waved to them, but they just giggled and looked a little confused. Jenny Dorner didn’t take long to corner me in the jungle gym with her little group of bullies. Fred frowned when Jenny pulled my pigtails again, and her friends laughed at me and called me names.

When it was over, I turned around to commiserate with Fred, but he was gone. That’s when I heard a series of pained screams echoing across our little concrete jungle. It came from over by the monkey bars.

I rushed over to see what was going on and saw all her friends standing there, crying and shouting for Ms. Newman, who came running and picked up Jenny to take her to the nurse. Part of the bone in Jenny’s arm was exposed, having shredded through the skin in a few different locations. The white of those bones stained red is something I will always remember.

According to her friends, Jenny had apparently climbed on top like she always did, but this time she’d somehow fallen off. Her friends swore up and down that someone had pushed her, but no one ever owned up to it. Right after it happened, I saw Fred standing by the monkey bars with a big smile on his face.

The rest of the school day went by in a blur. All the other kids had a hard time concentrating because of what happened to Jenny. Ms. Newman gave us a good talking to about safety to ensure something like that didn’t happen again. The best part of the day, though, was not getting any homework. That meant I could play with Fred all weekend!

Six months later, Fred and I were playing out in the front yard. We were digging for treasure, one of our favorite summer pastimes. Our neighbor had the meanest dog you’ll ever see, and they usually kept it chained up in the backyard. I was terrified of that dog; there had been a few near bites over the years.

I heard the snap of a chain and looked around in horror. The next thing I knew, there was a huge pit bull staring me down and growling; drool was oozing down its face. I got up quickly and ran, but it clamped down on my leg, tearing my skin with a wet, audible rip. I cried out for my mom, but she must have been doing the laundry in the basement or something.

I kicked it as hard as I could repeatedly with my other foot. At one point, I kicked it so hard in the head that a little blood escaped its right ear, and it let go for a moment. I had just enough time to dart across the street as quickly as I could. It recovered quickly and was only a few feet behind me when I turned to look. I knew in my heart that was the day I was going to die.

I vividly recall a car slamming on its brakes, its tires squealing deafeningly. The dog never stopped coming for me, even as the out-of-control car’s front tires greedily pulled it beneath them. I saw what remained of the dog, spread halfway down the road by the time the car finally stopped moving. Even in a state of shock, I still couldn’t help but notice Fred standing next to that car, smiling at me as I bawled my eyes out.

I remember another time when I was a few years older. Dad had lost his job when the factory shut down and started drinking a lot. While it was nice to have someone home when I came back from school every day, he was mean sometimes.

One day I came home and walked in on him “wrestling” with our neighbor Miss Judy. Dad got mad when he saw me and slapped me so hard I dropped my book bag. I left it there on my floor and ran up to my room. I cried all night and didn’t even want to leave my room for supper, but Mom made me. When she asked me what was wrong, I told her I’d just had a bad day at school.

Dad told me that if I told Mom what happened, I’d get it worse. I had never been afraid of Dad before, but he’d been so different lately. After dinner, I went back to my room, where Fred was waiting for me with a frown.

We talked for a little while about what happened. Fred kept all my secrets for me. I was thankful for that; everyone needs someone they can talk to about everything in their lives.

The next day, Dad didn’t make me breakfast. He was passed out in bed, drunk. I made a bowl of cereal and went to school. When I came home, I found Dad “wrestling” with Miss Judy again. I tried to just sneak by this time, but Dad caught me. I screamed as he chased me all the way up the stairs.

Just as I got to the top, he grabbed me by the bookbag slung over my shoulder, and pulled. I fought as hard as I could, not wanting my father to hurt me again. That’s when the strangest thing happened. Dad just let go.

I glanced over my shoulder as I moved, just in time to see Dad falling down the stairs. I noticed Fred was there, watching, too. I rushed down the stairs after him. Even though he hurt me, I still loved my father and didn’t want to see him hurt.

By the time I caught up with him at the bottom of the staircase, Miss Judy was screaming. I remember shaking my father and screaming as his blood drenched my school clothes. His neck had been torn open when his head was forced to a 180-degree angle during the fall.

Miss Judy called 911, and before long, the police and paramedics showed up. My mom wasn’t too far behind. Dad’s funeral was a few days after that. I spent a lot of time crying in my room while Fred consoled me. We had become closer than ever during those few months.

By the time I turned fifteen, Mom remarried. At first, I was against it, but Daniel was a really nice guy. He didn’t drink like my father, and he took great care of Mom and me. I still saw Fred a lot, but the connection between us felt increasingly strained. He’d changed over the last year or so. It was a little weird that I still had an imaginary friend at my age.

I didn’t talk about him to anyone, though; the last thing I needed was people making fun of me or thinking I had lost my mind. Fred still helped with my math homework when I needed it. He was a genius when it came to math.

He’d taken to relaxing in the bed at night while we talked, and sometimes, I’d pass out with him there beside me. It seemed so innocent. I thought little of it. I owed Fred a lot, to be honest. He’d been there for me through so many dark times in my life.

One morning, I woke up undressed, but for my life, I couldn’t remember removing my clothes. I was kind of sore all over, too, which was odd. It was a Saturday, thank god, so at least I didn’t have to go to school.

I made it a bed day, so I could relax and recuperate. That day was uneventful. I made it to the kitchen for meals but otherwise kept to the bedroom with a book. I didn’t see Fred for a little while after that, but I knew he’d been there before I woke up because his distinct smell of baby powder and peppermint still permeated the air in my room.

Two weeks later, I woke up one morning in so much pain I could barely even move. I noticed that there was blood, partially dried, up and down my thighs and a small congealed puddle where I’d been lying. There were small but deep cuts across my legs and a few on my stomach as well that I just couldn’t explain. Just gaping holes staring up at me where my flesh used to be.

I barely had the strength to yank my sheets and bedspread off the bed and hide them in my closet. I’d wash them later when no one was home. I didn’t know what to do, but talking to my mom about it just felt weird. I had no idea what was happening, so how would I explain it? The only thing I knew for sure was that Fred had to have been behind it. I could smell him all over me.

I forced myself into the shower and turned the hot water on as hot as I could make it. I just stood there for a while, scrubbing myself so hard I had to have removed a few top layers of skin. Then I curled up and just cried while the scalding water beat down on me from above. At that moment, all I wanted was to die, for there to be an end to what was happening.

How could Fred, my best friend in the world, betray me like this? Why would he do this to me? What was he doing to me? I decided that I never wanted to see or speak to him again. I wouldn’t fall asleep tonight–not that I’d be able to sleep, anyway.

Eventually, Mom and Daniel left the house, so I threw my sheets and bedspread into the laundry with some bleach. I ended up having to throw out my bedding, though; there was just no saving it. Luckily, I had a ton of replacements for the bed, so I didn’t think Mom would really notice. I grabbed a new set, put it all together on the bed, and went down to the kitchen to find something to eat.

I stood there in front of the refrigerator for so long that I lost track of time. That cool breeze against my raw skin was soothing. I was so numb that the fact I could feel anything at all amazed me. I ended up not eating anything and just went to the living room to put on the television. I can’t remember what I watched; my brain wasn’t exactly functioning at full capacity. It was just a blur of random sitcoms, commercials, and reality shows.

I stayed that way until evening, when Mom and Daniel finally came home. I must have been the best actress in the world, I thought, as I detached myself completely from my situation and made polite conversation with him. The only thing I knew was that I didn’t want to be alone, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be anywhere near my bedroom.

Mom suggested a family game night, and I was secretly thankful for the excuse to be around them longer. It was difficult to pay attention to the games we played, and I ended up losing every single one of them. By the time Mom realized what time it was, it was just after midnight. She called it a night. She and Daniel were tired from their hike and had a whole day of antiquing planned for the next day.

I reluctantly said goodnight and, with increasing terror, made the way up the stairs to my bedroom. I reached a hand in to flip the light switch on before I even entered. I breathed a sigh of relief when I noticed Fred was not there to greet me.

I stayed up till the morning sun drifted through my windows. Feeling a little safer with the light of day, I finally fell asleep. I should have known that no time of day was or would ever be safe for me again. The pain woke me up this time; how long I slept, I’ll never know.

I was willing to cooperate to get myself to safety or to even scream out for help. I felt like I was trapped inside my own body, powerless to stop what was going on. Fred locked eyes with me and winked, which only worsened things. He made small incisions in my body while he stared deeply into my eyes.

He stuffed each little piece of flesh he removed into his cartoonish mouth. No words were said during this. Just the sickening sounds of his teeth grinding and tearing those little pieces of me into oblivion. He pressed one of his index fingers to his lips and winked one more time as I passed out from the pain before it was even over, and when I woke up, Fred was gone.

I washed the shame and terror from my trembling body with more scalding water, this time scrubbing even harder than I had before. I scrubbed till my skin was so burnt and raw that it bled a little. I threw yet another set of bedding in a trash bag and snuck it into the large bin out front. The trash ran the next day, so I knew Mom and Daniel wouldn’t see it.

I made my bed again and returned to the bathroom to look in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes, and I looked as bad as I felt. I stood there for a while, staring at my reflection, blaming myself for what was happening to me. I’d done something wrong; I must have. Nothing else explained why Fred was doing this to me.

This started happening more frequently. A week of respite passed before it suddenly became a nightly routine. The pain would wake me up, and I would be forced to watch Fred consume small pieces of my flesh. His visage was becoming more terrifying every time I saw him. His once cartoonish features had taken on a much more sinister appearance.

Each time, I endured it for longer before passing out again. The look on his face promising to show me the knife again tomorrow night was the last thing I would see. It was getting harder every day to hide the wounds, and what little savings I had were going to replace my bedding, so Mom and Daniel wouldn’t notice. I was getting to the point where I just wanted to die. I needed peace, and felt like there might be only one way to get it.

The following Friday, I grabbed my laptop, went to the family room, and booted it up. I was desperate and searched through various subreddits for any information that might help me. I even posted a little about it, hoping to get some advice.

It was apparently the consensus that Fred wasn’t so imaginary after all. Since I was the only person capable of seeing him, most people believed he was a ghost. A few hours later, I had more information than I knew what to do with.

I went around the house collecting some things that people had suggested. I grabbed a bag of rock salt Daniel kept for the winter out of the shed out back. For the first time in my life, I thanked the gods for my mom’s hippie days. She was what you’d call a “new-ager” before I was born and kept a few boxes from the old days in the attic. I found a Ziploc bag labeled white sage, a pentacle, and some black candles.

According to the advice I got, black candles were supposed to banish negativity, the pentacle was for protection, the white sage was to bless and cleanse my house, and the salt was just something I’d seen on Supernatural. It was weirdly comforting to think that I was reenacting a scene from my favorite TV show.

I felt stupid walking around the house while I burned white sage in each room. I wasn’t entirely sure that any of this would help, but I didn’t want to take any chances. When I was done, I went back to my room and burned more. I lit the candles, put on the pentacle, and started putting salt in front of the door and the window in my room. Just for good measure, I even borrowed Dan’s bible and sat there for a little while reading verses out loud.

I was an atheist, but at this point, I needed all the help I could get. I had everything all cleaned up and aired out before Mom and Daniel got home. I left the black candles burning on the little table next to my bed like I’d been told to do.

I was supposed to burn them to nothing and then bury the wax with the pentacle on hallowed ground the following day. I had no idea how I’d be able to dig a hole at the church or the graveyard, but I’d worry about that when the time came.

Mom seemed excited about what they had found while antiquing, and I helped her and Daniel unload their finds from the back of his old, red pickup truck. I feigned interest as they showed me each one of them and explained what exactly they were, what they were worth, and what they actually paid for them.

She even found this cool old vanity for me. Even though I’d been bugging her to find me one of those for years, I just didn’t have it in me to be very excited about it, at least not for real. Of course, I put on a good show; I was getting good at that.

Just like every night since my problem started, I found excuses to hang out with them for as long as possible. Mom made some popcorn, and we watched a few episodes of Doctor Who on Netflix. It was another of my favorite shows, and I found a little comfort in watching David Tennant run around like a man possessed. We’d watched seven episodes before we realized it, and Mom and Daniel went to bed.

I began the slow climb of the stairs, half expecting someone to shout, “Dead man walking!” Fred wasn’t there, but I didn’t really expect him to be. If my plan didn’t work, I wouldn’t see him till he woke me up in the middle of the night.

I booted up my laptop and got sucked into Facebook for a while, and even ended up watching a bunch of random videos on YouTube. When the first rays of morning light came through my windows, I shut off the laptop and lay down on my bed. I passed out soon after.

I woke up to movement on my bed and immediately tensed up. My eyes darted to find the source, and I expelled an enormous sigh of relief when I saw my mom sitting there with a sweet smile. I leaned up and hugged her; I was so happy that the plan had worked. She laughed a little and hugged me back.

I remember her asking me what had gotten into me, and I made up a silly excuse about not appreciating her enough. We laughed together for a little longer and went downstairs to eat some breakfast. It had been over a week since I’d had a decent sleep, and it felt good. I’d never be the same after what Fred did to me, but at least it was over. Hundreds of small scars across my body would be an eternal reminder.

Years went by with no sign of Fred, but I continued my cleansing routine out of habit. I left for college a few years later and didn’t visit that much over the holidays. The less time I had to spend in that house, the better. I got married, had a kid, and moved on with my life.

Mom died almost five years after Christina was born. She’d become extremely reclusive toward the end of her life and was impossible to get a hold of. It hurt me deeply that she’d never wanted to meet her granddaughter. Daniel had broken the news to me kindly, but something about his voice sounded off.

All he said was that there had to have been some sort of animal attack on one of her solo hikes while he was at work. When he got home, she was lying in bed, covered in minor cuts and bleeding everywhere. He told me she just kept muttering the word animal repeatedly in a fugue state. Her heart had given out on her way to the hospital after the paramedics had arrived.

Daniel disappeared altogether after that, and I got a letter in the mail stating that Mom had left us the house. I thought about selling it, but it was a lot bigger than where we lived, and my husband and I had been talking about having another child. After a few arguments, he finally convinced me it made the most financial sense. So, reluctantly, I gave in, and we moved two weeks ago, leaving our tiny two-bedroom apartment behind.

I should have fought harder against it. Hell, maybe I should have just burnt the place down the night I got that letter. I knew that what Daniel had told me wasn’t the entire story. I could feel it in every little scar on my body. If only I knew then what I know now.

Three hours ago, I went into my old room; it now belongs to my daughter Christina. She was talking to her stuffed animals and having a tea party. I smiled and started back down the hallway, content to see her so happy. She was only in Kindergarten, but it had been hard for her to leave her friends behind. She hadn’t made any new friends since we moved here, but I was sure that, given a little time, that would change.

I didn’t get far from the room before freezing in place, horrified as I heard her sweet little voice say the name “Fred.”