User blog comment:Witnessme/Creepypasta Short Story Contest/@comment-27079522-20151015055846

Its not weird to have an imaginary friend. All kids have one at some point in their life. Ryan was mine. With his long and gangly limbs and the way when he walked his bones cracked and moved in odd and weird ways. As he crawled toward me from my closet, to my bed with his back bent and his arms and legs moving in odd ways at odd angles.

He was my friend, and although nobody could see his blue and grayish skin where long cuts were starting to turn black and the smell of rotten meat always followed him if he stayed too close. He could see everyone else.

Ryan would follow me everywhere I went, as long as there was a dark corner that he could hide in. He would follow me to school if he could, to friends houses, to the store. I would always see him watching me, especially when I was in the car. He was always worried about that. He would follow me while I was in the car. We use to play games of hide and seek while driving. I would try and find him on the side of the road through the trees.

Now I know that its not weird to have imaginary friends, but when you're twelve and you move into a new home it really should raise some alarms. Ryan was my friend for the two years I lived in that house, and when I moved he tried to follow me. He tried to make me invite him inside. I told one of my friends about Ryan, and we did some research. In 2007 a boy named Ryan Palmer died in a car crash on US 27. I saw his picture. Twelve year olds don't have imaginary friends.