Creepy Corner: Imaginary Friend Edition

Did you have a spooky imaginary friend? Does your kid?

Dec 20, 2013 at 2:00pm | Leave a comment

I'm sure most of you have seen the Reddit thread, or some version of it, about the creepy things kids say about their imaginary friends, right? If you haven't yet, here's a link to the some of the best stories from that thread. 
 
This is one of my favorite ones:
 
Icy Wants Me to Tell You It Will Be Tonight 
In high school one of my best friends had a little sister who was five or six years old. One day we stopped by his place, completely high, because he needed to get his Magic cards. While waiting for him to come downstairs 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: morbid question, right? But I knew all about Icy, her imaginary friend. I even helped her draw a picture of him once. So I played along and said, “No, of course not! No one knows that. Hopefully when I’m very old.”
The 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.
Have you tucked your kids into bed yet?
 
I've said it once, and I'll say it again, kids + the unexplained = THE SCARIEST STUFF EVER. 
 
When I was a kid I had an imaginary friend named Marigold. I don't actually remember much about Marigold, but from what my family tells me, Marigold was a creepy little girl who didn't help matters in our already creepy house
 
What I know about Marigold is mostly retold to me by my cousins, who are like sisters to me, and my parents. They say that I told them Marigold was a lost girl whose face I recognized off of one of those "Have you seen me?" notices that were everywhere in the 80s and 90s. Though I didn't really play regularly with Marigold (though I did freak my family out with the game "Finding Marigold"), now and then she'd apparently pop up in casual interactions, sufficiently chilling everyone.  
 
image

Marigold and I take a selfie. 

 
Two instances come to mind about Marigold. What's interesting is that while I only vaguely remember these events, I remember them as completely normal and not scary, whereas family remembers it a little differently. 
 
The first time my mom "encountered" Marigold was one summer morning when I was about six or seven years old. As my mom explains, we were both upstairs in our house, I was in my room drawing or something, and my mom was in the little hallway nook between my bedroom and hers, doing her "calisthenics."
 
Nobody else was home at that point, and the house was quiet except for the sound of my mom rhythmically breathing as she kicked her legs in the air doing her "bicycles." It was the 80s, aerobics were all the rage. 
 
Mom says that at one point she heard the heavy fire door at the bottom of the stairs, the one that separated the upstairs from the rest of the house, open and shut. No banging, no slams, but gently, like we were all instructed to do. The door was simply so heavy that even if you were being careful, the door frame would always shake when you shut the door. 
 
Wondering if my dad had forgotten something, and had come back from work, she called out to him. No response. 
 
Moving toward the stairs to see who was coming, my mom says she was stopped in her tracks when she heard me yell, "Hi Marigold!" from my bedroom, then come skipping out and run down the stairs. She said that after a few moments at the foot of the stairs, mom watching from above, I calmly returned to my room and continued drawing. 
 
No biggie, just saying hi to MARIGOLD. 
 
The second thing that happened involved the phone. This unnerves me now, even though it didn't seem to at the time, because well, kids, imaginary friend ghosts, mysterious phone calls -- NOOOOOOOOO. 
 
One evening after my parents had gotten home from work, the phone rang, as phones are apt to do. As my dad remembers, he picked up the phone, and there was the voice of a little girl on the other end. 
 
"Hello? Hello? Can you help me? Daddy?", he says the little voice said, then hung up. 
 
Upon reporting this incident to my mom and me, he decided that to call the operator to see if the call could be traced. At this point, my dad says that I said something like, "That's not going to work." Did I know something? Was I just being a weirdo? Either way, it gave him pause. 
 
Anyway, as you can guess, my dad called the operator, she tried to trace the call, and indeed it didn't work. She said that last call came from a disconnected phone line. 
 
It's almost too perfect. It sounds like the stuff of horror movies right?
 
But then I came across this entry in my diary from when I was a kid:
 
"I think Marigold called. She was scared and asking for help! Dad called the opurrater and she said the phone number was disscconnected!!!!!!! I will close the door."
 
I WILL CLOSE THE DOOR?! WHAT DOOR, SEVEN YEAR OLD LOUISE? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?
 
It may all have been an overactive imagination on everyone's part, but it all makes for some pretty scary stuff nonetheless. 
 
But I wasn't the only creepy kid apparently.
 
CORYNNE had a little friend too: 
 
From age 2-3, I had an imaginary dog named "Cheeky." Cheeky lived in the basement. He was so small he could fit in  your shoe, but he had teeth as sharp as a tiger, and if you went in the basement, Cheeky would get out of his cage and bite your throat.
 
Needless to say, every person that walked into our house got the full run-down on Cheeky the second they walked in the door. CREEPY MAJEEPY.
 
And SOMER'S son had an "active imagination" too:
 
When Oliver was younger, he used to talk about "the red monster," and he talked about it coming into his room and growling at him with glowing eyes. He even drew pictures of it sometimes. 
 
And LESLEY had A WHOLE POSSE of friends to keep her intellectually stimulated:
 
My imaginary friends weren't that weird -- if they were unusual it was probably just insofar as I had a LOT of them. Like dozens of distinct individuals who came and went all the time. I had an imaginary posse.
 
Also some of them were dead people. I had lengthy conversations with George Gershwin and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle in particular. They were my favorites. 
 
On second thought, I guess all of that IS pretty weird.
 
Did any of you have imaginary friends? Were any of them scary? Do your kids say the darndest spooky things? 
 
Tell us!