When I was young, age four, I had an imaginary friend named Jack. We had so much fun together, until things didn’t get very fun. Our favorite game was hide and seek (He was the best hider obviously).
One day while playing the game, Jack hid in my closet. He was especially connected to one of my toy trucks. I opened the closet door, and I actually found him! I said, “Why did you hide in a place that I always look first, Jack?” He said, “I like this truck.” Normally, I played with him, but before I met him, that was my favorite truck. I then realized how much I missed it. I asked, “Can I play with my truck now?” He said no. I asked why not, so he said, “I want it, so it’s my truck, plus I’m five years old.” I said, “I want my truck!” He then stood up aggressively, and said, “It is my truck now!” He then clenched his fists, and so did I. Then my mom called me down for dinner.
We both went down, and then I demanded another plate for Jack. So my mom chuckled and handed me one. After a brief dinner we went upstairs. I asked if he wanted to play another game of hide and seek, but he said no. He wanted the truck. Since that was my birthday present when I was one, I quickly grabbed it. He then growled, and charged. He hit me, and then knocked me into the wall. He took the truck! I stood up, rubbed my arm that I fell on, while he left the room. I also ran out of the door. When his guard was off, I slammed him into the staircase rail (My staircase was one where the rail was held up by poles). We then rolled down the stairs in a ball.
Jack then had my throat, I couldn’t breathe! My mom ran in, hearing us tumble down the stairs. She swooped me up, Jack was now on his back on the floor. He started crying, and I heard my closet door slam. My Mom then realized our house is haunted. Then we moved out soon.
After that scary event, I never went back, until later. I went in the house, abandon for some time. I brought a camera, a water bottle, and a lump in my back pocket. I heard the distant noise of crying… I went upstairs, and it got louder. I opened the door, to my old room. I lifted up a mask, because the room was coated in mold. I coughed instantly. Then a loud voice yelled, “Who are you?” I didn’t answer, I didn’t know what to say. Then I was punched twice on the back. Quickly, I turned around and took a picture. I looked at the screen, Jack was in the picture, about to throw a rock. He then threw it, it hit me right in the gut. This made me lower my camera. He recognized me instantly. He could see me, though I couldn’t see him. He said, “Are you going to hurt me?” I said no, then I got down on my knees. I then handed him a little metal truck. I said, “You would play with it more than I would.”
The strange part is, Jack followed me home. He let me know this by giggling in my ear. I� asked if he followed me home, then I heard knocking on the wall, and a chill. So I said, “You have to sleep in the guest room, plus I’m twenty years old!”
So that’s my story, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to repair that truck. Strangely, I haven’t heard from him in seven years, as if ghosts have a term to serve on Earth. Once they serve that term, they leave. Now, that truck is in a box, in a closet. If my children get imaginary friends, I will destroy it. That’s my story, it’s 100% true.
Sent in by Matt, Copyright 2010 TrueGhostTales.com