Her Eyes

December 15, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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I never knew something as simple as a knock on the door could forever send me into a frozen state of terror. It all started with a cold and rainy autumn evening. The wind was blowing fiercely, whistling through the little cracks in the windows and door frames. I was sitting by myself in the living room, watching a terrible homemade zombie flick when I heard a dull thud of foot steps walking up the stairs to my porch.

I muted the television, sat upright, and turned my ear towards the front door. I heard the storm door open then slam shut within two seconds of it opening. I quickly stood up, stumbling over the small ottoman sitting in front of me. I turn on the light in the entryway then peek through the curtain on the little door window to see who was there. No one. I glance out further to see that I had left my driver’s side window cracked open. I curse under my breath and grab my keys from the side table and run outside to my car. I quickly roll my window up, then run back into the house, soaking wet.

I hastily shut the front door, as to not let any heat escape. As soon as it latches, the knocking begins again. Annoyed, I sigh, thinking I forgot to latch the storm door. I turn the knob, ripping the door open when I see a child standing in front of me on the porch. Startled, I gasp loudly, clutching my chest. The child, a girl no older than 10 years stood on my porch, in a raincoat, looking down to the floor. “Are you all right?” She says nothing. I take a step closer to her “Hey, can I help you with something?” I’m starting to panic inside a little because something seems terribly “off” about this girl. Then I notice, she’s completely dry. Not a single drop of rain has touched her coat. I look around to see that my porch is flooded where the wind had blown the rain against my house. Even if she had been on my porch this whole time, she still would’ve been drenched.

I stand there, staring at this child who wouldn’t even look at me.
“Little girl. Please answer–”
“May I please borrow your phone?”
Her voice is calm and kind of deep. She never takes her eyes off of the ground. I inhale sharply, surprised by her sudden question. I weakly ask, “Who do you want to call? Do you need the police, your parents, who?” I’m trying to stay calm, but my voice is shaking. Something is terribly wrong, but I can’t figure it out.

The girl stands very still, and starts sniffling. “May I come in? It’s so cold. Do you have any food?” I stare at the girl, confused by her monotone voice. I don’t feel comfortable letting her inside my house. I feel bad because she’s a child, but something about her terrifies me. I tremble, “What is your name? Where do you live?” The rain suddenly stops. Like turning off a faucet. The wind stops, also, making the neighborhood twenty times quieter. I get shivers down my spine. The girl slowly lifts her hooded head, finally making eye contact. I try to scream, but the only thing that comes out are aggravated breaths of terror. Her eyes. Oh my god. Her eyes. As black as the abyss that she had likely crawled out of. Her pale white skin glowed a soft white, making her eyeballs so much darker. She stepped closer to me, “Please let me in, I’m so cold.” I stare in fear, when the wind and rain turn on like a switch behind her.

I slam the door in her face, running to my phone. I dial 9-1-1, barely holding on because I’m shaking so much. “9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” I try to explain what’s happening, but just sound crazy. “There’s a girl. On m-my porch. Not wet. Black eyes. Oh my god.” I hear the lady from 9-1-1 trying to calm me down. “Ma’am? Ma’am? Calm down please, I can’t understand you. You said there’s a girl on your porch?” I stutter, “Y-yes. She’s out there. IT’S out there. She has black eyes and wants to come in. I won’t let her in!” I hear her knocking on my door. Each knock louder than the rest. I cry out, “Leave me alone! I’m not letting you in!” The knocking ceases. I sigh in a small relief. The woman on the phone asks me where I am and if I need a police officer to come. I say “Yes, please hurry.” Then hang up. Ten long minutes later, I see police vehicle lights dancing on my living room wall. I sigh in relief, and hear a loud banging on the door. I run, a little hesitantly, and answer it. “Thank god you’re here, officer–” I gasp. No officer. Only his car, sitting in the rain, driver side door wide open. I walk out onto the porch, frantically searching everywhere for him. I run to the back yard, dripping with rain water, shouting, “Officer! Officer, where are you?!” I run back to the front of the house when I see that awful girl standing in front of me, glaring at me. She sounds aggravated now. “Let me in so I can use your phone. I’m lost. Please help me.” I dart up the porch stairs, shoving her out of my way, throwing her off the porch. I look back to see her ankle twisted in an impossible angle. She doesn’t scream or cry, she just stands up, limping towards me, dragging her ankle behind her. I scream in horror, slamming and locking the door behind me. The knocking continues. I just want it to stop. I have to do something. I run to my kitchen, open the silverware drawer and pull out a sharp knife. The knocking will not stop.

I walk toward the front door, raising the knife above my head, and grabbing for the door knob. I quickly open the door to see the Officer standing in front of me, his gun drawn, pointing at me. Out of instinct, he fires, shorting me in the chest. I drop the knife, and fall to the ground. He enters the door and kneels beside me, yelling into his radio that he needs backup and an ambulance. He puts pressure on my chest as th blood pours out of me. I look behind him to see the black eyed girl standing directly behind him, looking down at me, smiling with her sharp teeth glistening. I’m choking on my own blood at this moment. Gasping in terror, my eyes widen. They never close again. The last thing I ever see is that girl and her harshly blackened eyes, smiling down at me like she just won a prize.

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Camping with Black Eyed Kids

November 13, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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My encounter with black eyed kids. Please share. I’d like to know other people’s thoughts. Thank you.

First, a quick intro about myself.

I’m a 26 years old, male. I work at a small private college in Michigan. I’m a normal, average guy. I like hockey, HBO shows, kayaking, and hiking/camping. I have a girlfriend, love my dad and sister, and have a pet dog named Bear. While I keep an open mind, I don’t believe in ghosts, aliens, big-foot, and am not even too sure about God. The way I see it, if I haven’t encountered it first hand or seen documented, verifiable proof then I keep a healthy amount of skepticism. There is one thing I do believe in now that I never did before, hell I didn’t even know about it before – black freaking eye kids.

As I said earlier, I love(ed) to hike and camp. For reasons too introspective to get into fully here I just loved the solitude, peace, and serenity the outdoors provided me. My life is not overly stressful, chaotic, or dramatic, but every once in a while a man needs to get away from it all. Being alone in the wilderness gave me the opportunity to clear my head, be introspective, consider the facts of life. I loved the beauty of the natural world, and I try to appreciate the small and big things, from the smallest clover to the biggest mountain. Beauty is all around us. In a way, I think it’s my belief in beauty that has helped me cope as well as I have with what I’m about to share. In late August of 2010 I set out for Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore located along Lake Michigan. I had schedule five days off of work, and I planned on making the most of it. Sleeping Bear is one of my favorite parks in lower Michigan. I know it to be a great place for some solitude, and having usually been abandoned by sun worshipers by mid August I knew I’d have most of the park to myself. So, I wasn’t surprised when I arrived the fist day, found my usually parking spot, a sand parking lot just yards from the lake, and didn’t see another person.

As I sat on the hood of my car, overlooking the beach and the lake, I remember breathing deeply and saying aloud “thank God for solitude.” I ate lunch, walked down the beach and put my bare feet into the water. Cold. Very cold. It didn’t matter to me though, because I didn’t come to swim. I came to hike, and to camp. I came to, as was my tradition, sit by a warm fire on a cool night, sipping on my flask of whiskey, enjoying the sounds of the forest. However, this peaceful tradition didn’t happen. The proper procedure when camping at a state or national park, if you’ve never been, is to check in at a ranger station. There you pay your fees, obtain your backcountry pass, if you’re going to be camping in the backcountry as I always do, and give the rangers your information: license plate number, make and model of your car, etc. After my quick stop off at the beach to eat my lunch, I headed to the nearby, a fifteen or so minute drive, and get my affairs in order.

The Platte River Ranger Station is manned until mid October, I think, so it was open and I didn’t have to travel to the main station a ½ hours drive north. I park in the station’s parking lot, and walk into the office. The ranger and I spoke for a little and he asks me for my license plate number. I knew he was going to ask, but I still forgot to write it down before I went in, so I walk back out toward my car, and I see two kids sitting at a bench just in front of where I’m parked. They weren’t there when I parked, and I didn’t notice them when I walked in to the station, but at this point in time I’m still on cloud nine. I’m happy to be on vacation, so I take no real notice. I walk to the back of my car, jot down the license plate number and walk back to office. I take care of business in the office and step out and walk to the connecting bathroom. The backcountry area I’m staying at, White Pine, has a pit-toilet, think port a john but just with a deep hole in the ground, but I’d like to use a real bathroom while I can. I go into the restroom and go into the empty stall.

As I’m taking care of my business, I hear the bathroom door open. I hear whispered voices. It’s a small bathroom, but I can’t make-out what the voices are saying. I can tell they’re kid’s voices though, and I figure it’s the kids I saw near my car earlier. No biggie, right? I finish up, and open the stall door. Sure enough, there are the two kids standing outside the stall. I remember saying, “it’s all yours.” As I walked to the sink. The kids just stood there. When you think about it now, in reading, the situation seems a little spooky, but at the time, and if you were in the situation yourself I’d bet that you wouldn’t be the slightest bit worried and neither was I. I was my hands, and glance in the mirror, only to notice the kids are looking right at me. This is the first time, but certainly not the last time, on this trip that my spine tingles with fear. The god damn kids have completely black eyes. No whites to their eyes at all. Like I said, this is a pretty small bathroom and they were not more than three feet away. At first I can’t do or say anything. I am literally frozen with fear. The water runs over my hands, but I can’t feel it. I’m so deep inside my head at this moment that all I can hear are my thoughts, which were something like “Ahhhhhh!.” All joking aside, I was petrified.

It was only when one of the kids, a brown haired boy that I would guess was around twelve took a step toward me that my fight or flight instincts took over control from my fear. I turned off the water, why I bothered I don’t know habit I guess, and moved a step back from the kids and toward the door. Seemingly sensing my fear the boy didn’t take another step toward me. Instead he stopped, on retrospect I can guess he was trying to keep from frightening me too much – didn’t work kid!

“Can you help us?” That’s what the boy said when one of us finally spoke. For a moment I did want to help.

I consider myself a pretty nice guy. I’d go out of my way to help pregnant women carry groceries to their car. I’d rescue cats from trees if the situation arose, and for a while I thought that is why I wanted to help those creepy kids. I thought, my sheer decency was what made me, despite my better judgment, and despite my fear want to help them. Only since I began researching the BEK’s do I realize that I didn’t want to help those kids, but whatever, magical, mystical voo-doo, power they have made me want to help them. I can’t tell you with any certainty how long I stood motionless thinking about helping those kids, but it seemed like an eternity. Finally, like a physical shaking of my brain I said “No, Not right now. I gotta go.” And then I left the bathroom.

I remember in that two seconds my back was turned on those kids to me leaving the bathroom I felt certain I was going to die. I thought as soon as my back was turned they were going to tear me to shreds. It was with knee buckling relief that I left the bathroom and walked out into the midday sun. I walked the fifteen or so feet to my car, on noodle like legs, too afraid to look behind me. I fumbled for my keys and unlocked my door, sat down, closed the door and locked it. Only then, in the safety of my locked car, did I feel safe enough to look back toward the bathroom. Damned if the little bastards weren’t standing just outside the bathroom staring at me with the big, black soul sucking eyes.

I want to take moment to explain a little bit more about myself. I’m not a big man, but I’m not small either. I’m six foot, with shoes on I always say, and am around 185 pounds. What I’m saying is I can take a couple twelve year olds in a fight (I assume, having never actually fought any twelve year olds since I was twelve myself). In my hiking, I’ve encountered odd people before. I’ve turned a bend in a trail only to startle a huge grizzly bear. I’ve been lost, once, and ran out of water, once, and I even had a tree fall in the middle of my campsite during a gale swept night in Tennessee –as I was drifting off to sleep! However, not a single event in my life scared me nearly as much as those kids.

So, there I am, in my car, staring at those kids, and them staring at me. I can’t take my stare away from them, and they start for my car. Startled to my senses, I turn the key, throw it in reverse, and get the hell out of there. I drive off, not daring to look in the rearview mirror. I know that if I do look back that I’ll see those black eyes looking back at me. I turn onto the main road and head the short drive north to my camp site. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking, why the hell are you still camping! To be honest I can’t tell you why. I was just so much in shock that I wasn’t really thinking. It wasn’t until I was parked in the sand lot, at the head of the White Pine trail that my brain started functioning again. The drive home would only take three hours. I could make it home in time for dinner, but for some reason I talked myself out of it. Sitting in my car, in the sun, on the beach has a way of taking away all bad feelings.

I just talked away my better judgment. I won’t be doing that again. It’s around three o’clock, and I know that the sun will start to set in around three or four hours, so I know I should head toward my camping spot. It’s not a very long walk from the parking lot to the White Pine backcountry campground, but it will take around 45 minutes, leaving me just a couple hours to set up camp, gather fire wood, cook dinner and eat before nightfall. Fuck it, I remember saying to myself. I get my pack out of my backseat and take off down the trail.

Now, there are two ways to access the White Pine campground from where I was parked. I could either head through the woods, or I could walk along the beach. The wooded trail is quicker, and shorter, and the beach trail is harder on the legs and lungs (walking with a fifty pound pack in the sand is no picnic). However, considering what I just went through I decided to go along the beach. It was the more open, brighter, kinder trail.
To reach the campsite from the beach trail, you have to turn away from the lake and go about ½ a mile into the woods. Reaching my campsite, I find it, unfortunately, completely empty. The campground has seven sites, I think, and not a one of them was taken. Usually this would be a happy thing to me, but this time I wished for all my might for a little company. I pick a site hidden fairly well from the trail, feeling that I didn’t need anyone walking along to spot my tent.

I unpack and set up my ultra-light one person tent, put down my sleeping pad, and unroll my zero degree rated mummy-bag. Taking my walking stick, a sawed off hockey stick, and a folding knife with me, I head into the forest to gather fire wood. I pile up a good sized pile, three times larger than I think I’ll need, and proceed to light a fire. I cook my food, and eat, all the while watching the sun set through the trees. What is normally a beautiful, warming sight to me, now only brings dread. I do not want to be out here I suddenly realize. I finish eating quickly and decide to gather even more firewood. I do not want to run out in the middle of the night. As the darkness descends upon the woods and my campsite, I get the fire going, and riffle through my pack looking for my flask. This was a situation that called for a little liquid courage. I hit it hard. In the woods the sun sets at first slower then you think and then near the end it just kind of falls out of the sky, and is gone in a blink. So it did that night.

Sitting next to the fire, I decide to move my tent closer to me, so I click on my flash light, and move my tent until it is right behind the small bench next to the fire ring. I like having the tent behind me, protecting my back as I saw it. I’m glad I decided to gather more firewood because I’m burning through it quickly keeping the fire as high as I am. Even though it is early Autumn and the temperature was probably in the 40’s I was hot sitting so close to such a big fire.

Part of getting away from it all for me, is to leave my phone in the car. In civilization I don’t use a watch. I just look at my cell. However, this night I wish I had my cell on me, not to call someone there is no service, but to check the time. I wanted it to be late. I wanted the night to fly by, and give me the security of morning. I finished the whiskey, and wished that I had brought the bottle with me from the car. The spirits had done their job though, and I was a bit calmer. Also, praise be to god, I was feeling sleepy too. Though the rules say, don’t go to bed with your fire burning, I sure as hell was not going to sleep with out the fire. I got in my tent, leaving the flap open, with just the bug flap closed, so I could see the fire, and tried to sleep.

I don’t know how long I lay there before slept found me, but I did eventually drift off. Thankfully, I can’t remember having any dreams. I woke to a dead fire, and the early dusk light coming in. I have to say I was slightly surprised to be alive.

As dawn turned in to day I felt more and more foolish for the fear I felt yesterday. Being a usually calm, cool, and collected guy I couldn’t explain the intense dread and fear I felt when I saw those kids, but I did my best to ignore it, and I explained away their eyes pretty easily. I told myself the kids were camping at the Platte River campground, same location as the ranger station I registered at. They had some colored contact lenses and were playing a joke. Simple. Possible, even probably considering the alternative. I ate breakfast and then made a, upon hindsight, horrible decision. I decided to stay another night.
After breakfast, I gathered firewood, so that I wouldn’t have to gather any when I got back for the evening. My pile of wood at a towering height, I hiked back to my car, along the wooded trail (I was feeling awfully, stupidly brave that morning).

I arrived at my car, and decided to go to the Dune Climb. The Dune Climb is a trail that begins at a towering dune and ends 1 ½ miles away at Lake Michigan. This hike was uneventful, but beautiful providing me even more determination not to let myself be scared off by some stupid kids with contact lenses. I got back to my car from the round trip hike right around 1:00. I got out my small camp stove and cooked some soup. Finished with lunch, I decided that next I would take the scenic drive, I forget the name of the road, that is part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. It’s a winding drive with several scenic and educational pull offs. It’s relaxing and beautiful. I finished with that around 3:00, and I decided I would head to Traverse City, just a 45 minute drive away, and do a little shopping and grab an early dinner at a nice steak house. This is not something I normally do while camping but after the previous nights events, I decided to treat myself.

Traverse City is a nice town to visit, if you ever have the chance (just a recommendation). I went to this steak house just outside of Traverse around 4:30, figuring a quick dinner, an 45 minute drive and an hour walk would get me to my camp at just about dusk. But that’s not what happened. The restaurant was packed! I got a table fairly quickly but the service was very slow. In the end I didn’t get out of the restaurant until dusk. Cursing myself it began to rain as I drove back to the trail head parking lot. By the time I was at the lot and parked it was full blown nighttime. Sitting in the parking lot, listening to the wind, and the rain I was pretty damn scared again. I think that if nearly all of my gear wasn’t still at the campsite then I would have just drove home and said screw it. However, I couldn’t abandon several hundred dollars worth of camping equipment because I was scared. I’m not a pussy.

I gear up: flashlight, pocket knife, water bottle, headlamp, and walking stick. Again I had two options, through the woods or along the beach. The storm clouds blocked out most of the star and moon light so I would have been kidding myself to think that the beach would have been better lit, but it was still more open, and provided me with a better feeling, so I took the beach path. The path is only a mile and a half long along the beach and then another ½ mile into the woods to the campsite. I figured, if I hustled, I could be at my campsite in just over ½ an hour.
I turn on my headlamp and move off down the beach. The wind is hitting pretty hard, and it’ pretty damn cold, but I’m prepared. My coat has a nice rain shell and I’m not getting too wet.
Hiking in the dark is not smart in the best of circumstances. In this area there are cougars and bear, both rare, but the real danger is getting lost, or stumbling over something and injuring yourself. However, I wasn’t too worried about any of that. The animals are so rare in that area it’d take very bad luck to get bothered by them, and the beach was clear of most debris that I might trip on. What had me worried was a creeping sensation of paranoia.

As I walked the sensation of paranoia and dread grew. I stopped every ten feet or so to look around, lighting the tall grass, next to the beach and before the woods, with my headlamp. I opened my jaw and listened, you can hear better with your mouth slightly open, but I saw nothing and heard nothing. I’d walk another ten feet and just know that someone was watching me. It was hard to hear anything over the lapping waves of the lake and the howling wind of the storm, but I swear I heard voices in the tall grass.
I’d been walking probably 1/2 an hour and I new I would be meeting off with the trail leading into the woods, and to my campsite any second now, but then my world fell apart. Having one of my strongest moments of feeling watched I turned around, facing the direction I came, and there they were.

The boy who spoke to me earlier couldn’t have been more than five feet away, and the other boy, the quiet boy, was standing slightly behind him. Each of the boys stood motionless. Staring. Just staring. At this moment, I’m not sure I have the ability to put my terror into words. The best way I can describe it is to say I felt like I was dying. I felt like I was in the hospital and the doctor just told me I had moments to live. The talkative boy moved toward me.
The only light on the beach came from my headlamp. Neither kid had any sort of flashlight. My led beam flashed across their faces, reflecting grotesquely in their large dark eyes. The waves crashed, and the wind blew.

“Help us.”

I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. The boy moved closer. The quiet boy stepped to the side, almost like he was slowly circling behind me, and that broke the spell.

“I’m not fucking helping you,” I said.
“We’re lost. We can’t find our campsite.”
“Is this a game,” I asked, even though I knew it wasn’t.
“Take us with you. Please. We’ll die out here. We’re afraid. ”

I call bull-shit on that one. They’re scared, I thought to myself? I’m scared. You’re the one with the creepy eyes, the vacant hollow voices. You’re the ones with the fish-eye stare.
The quiet boy moved a little more. He was now standing beside me, just a couple feet away. The talkative boy was still in front of me, blocking the way I had come, blocking the path back to my car. Then things got even weirder.

“Okay, you can come with me,” I said.

I don’t even remember thinking the words. They just came out. The talkative boy smiled and he reached to take my hand. The fight or flight response hit me so hard it was like a physical punch to the stomach. I recoiled at the sight of this little monster trying to take my hand. Before I even realize it, I’m running down the beach. I’m sprinting away from the little bastards, and my car as fast as I can.
I don’t’ look behind me. I don’t know if they’re following me or not, and I don’t want to know. All I know is that I need to run faster. I’m in decent shape, but given any normal circumstance I would never have been able to run so quickly for so long on a beach.

My head lamp bouncing up and down, I see the off-shoot-trail leading from the beach into the woods. Without much thought, if any, I take the trail and head into the woods.
My senses finally returning to me, I jump off the trail and move a little ways into the woods. I turn off my head lamp, and lie down among some tall grass. I watch the trail waiting to see the kids following. I waited, in the rain, and cold for god knows how long. A couple hours at least. No kids.

The cold was slowly creeping in. I wasn’t sure if I was shivering because of the adrenaline, the fear, or the cold, but I do know I was starting to freeze. I had to leave my concealment and make way to shelter. I had two options. The tent and sleeping bag, or the car.

The car meant safety. It meant home. However, it also meant that I would have to walk a mile and a half, in the dark with god knows who or what waiting for me.
The tent meant warmth, and shelter from the elements. It meant exposure to the kids. If the kids knew where I was hiking, and when, then they’d know where I was camping. Right?
It was an impossible decision. It was a choice of the lesser of two evils. I chose the tent. I just couldn’t force myself to go back along the wooded trail, and I sure as hell wasn’t going back along the beach. I crossed my fingers and prayed that the little bastards didn’t know where my tent was. I got up, found the trail, and sprinted the ½ mile to the campground. As I ran a thought occurred. Maybe someone will have hiked in during the way. Maybe I’ll have company.

There was no life at the campground. When I arrived at the campground, I made a wide circle of it, looking both for other campers and for the little devils. I saw nothing and no one.
I made my way, as quietly as possible, to my tent. I unzipped the fly, and crawled in. I thought briefly about a fire, but decided that would be more of a signal to the kids then deterrence. My clothes were sopping wet and I was still very cold. I had to take them off. My pack is leaning against a tree about fifteen feet from my tent. Inside are clean, dry clothes, sealed tightly in a wet bag. However, now that I’m inside the tent I’m sure as hell not going back out. The tent gave me some sense of security even though it wasn’t in any way secure.
Now naked, I crawl inside my mummy bag. I’d like to say how much I hate that it’s called a mummy bag. After a few moments I warm up, but the shivering takes another 1/3 hour or so to subside. As I’m lying there, I’m wishing so much that I had that bottle of whiskey in my car.

The rain plays against the leaves of the trees, and the wind creaks the branches. Under the best of circumstances this is a night where a person’s mind can get away from them. For me, it was utter terror. My imagination made every creak, every howl of the wind into something sinister. As the hours passed, and my adrenaline faded I felt immensely tired. I wanted so badly just to fall asleep. In sleep I wouldn’t know I was being eviscerated. I’d either wake up or I wouldn’t.

I thought it was a nightmare at first. When I heard the voice, say – something, I thought I was dreaming. But then sleep cleared from my head and I realized I was awake. It was still night, and the storm was still biting.

“Help us,” an unmistakable voice said.

I couldn’t help it. It was a gut reaction. I screamed. I lay naked, my mummy bag zipped up to my chin. I was completely helpless. I felt like a newborn baby, my fate completely held in the hands of others.

“Please let us in.”
“No,” I screeched, and then again, “no!”
“It’s so cold. Please let us in, Mr.”

I stopped replying and could only sob. Like a heartbroken teenage girl. Like a woman who just learned her sister died. I sobbed. I was so uncontrollably scared that I think it helped me not pay attention to the kids demands. At least not fully.

“Let us in.”

I tugged the pull string on the hood of my mummy bag until I was completely enveloped. I just kept repeating, not daring to listen to the kids, the word “no.” No, no, no ,no, no, no, no. I waited for death. I knew it was coming. Any second and I’d be ripped to shreds.
The kid kept saying something, but I wasn’t listening. I wouldn’t listen.

I knew how overwhelming their hypnotic power was. I did everything I could not to listen. I kept chanting my mantra. Kept howling my “no’s.”
I don’t know when I fell asleep, but the next thing I know I startle awake. The sun is shining, and I’m alive. I don’t know how, but I’m alive. I look around my small tent and I don’t see anything amiss on the inside. It takes me several minutes to gather the courage necessary to unzip the tent fly, but finally I do. I peak my head out, but see no one. Naked, I run to my pack, and grab my clothes in the dry-bag. I toss some clothes on and race back to the tent. I tear it down in a matter of moments. I pack my sleeping back, and pad and tent onto my pack, and take off down the trail. I decide one more time to take the beach trail. In the sun, and warmth of the morning it’s an entirely different trail. The only moment I’m given pause is when I come across a duck with what seems to be it’s heart torn out. I took a photo with a disposable camera in my pack, and move on.

I arrive at my car and find it unmolested. I get in and drive home.
It’s been almost two entire months since this happened, but I still remember it all like it was yesterday. I haven’t gone camping since, and I don’t’ know if I’ll ever feel safe hiking again. Maybe I’ll go camping again sometime in the future, but I’m bringing a friend. No more going it alone.

I, thankfully, haven’t seen any more black eye kids. I don’t want to posit on what they are. I don’t want to think about whether they are demons, or monsters, aliens, or hybrids. I was interested at first. I did some research because I wanted to know if I was crazy. I don’t care what you think they are. I don’t care why they are. I just wanted to know that I wasn’t the only one who has had this experience. I’m not, and I’m thankful for that.

My advice if you ever do encounter a BEK, don’t listen to it to speak. Don’t be polite in case they’re just weird kids. Don’t question their validity. Don’t worry about looking silly, or that others will think you’re crazy. Just run. Run and don’t look back.

Credit To – David Krabs

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Graduation

March 7, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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Westley was rich. Not in the manor in which he was stuck up or thought he was better than everyone else, but in the manner where the only friends he could find were those who really only cared for his money and not him. That being said, life was rather difficult for him. He was a senior in high school now, with acceptance into his first choice school on scholarship. To many of the less impressive, less well-off students in school he was well on his way to becoming the most secretly hated student on campus. Still, it made it easier to weed out those friends of his who weren’t in fact friends at all. They would treat him well, but he was well aware of the whispers and glances of envy that he’d been receiving from those who claimed to adore him. And he wasn’t about to allow them to spoil his last few days of school.

His parents were going away on holiday, you see. And they had assured him that while they were away, he could have the house to himself for the summer to do with it as he wished, so long as he cleaned up the mess. He’d decided to give himself one final hoorah; a commemoration for making it through the most confusing and disheartening four years of his life, and he decided to do so with five of his truest and least malicious friends.
He chose his compatriots carefully; there would be Alisson, his long time crush who, despite her disinterest in him, had always been very loyal to him; Rodney, who had been in theatre with him and always pushed him to do his best, regardless of his shy demeanor; Micheal, who occasionally made comments about their English teachers rear end, and seemed more intrigued by what his groin wanted then gossip about the spoiled rich kid; Lester, who rarely spoke but sat with him at lunch and seemed thankful when Westley packed extra food for him; and last was Gretchen, a foreign student with very good English who, for whatever reason, had a thing for the sweet little rich boy before she knew of his wealth.
He’d asked them to come over, after convincing his parents that their night wouldn’t be complete without drinks and assured them that nobody would be leaving while intoxicated, at 8 sharp after their final day of school.

The two girls arrived first; they had become friends themselves through their mutual companionship with Westley and arrived together. Lester was next through the door and then Rodney, who was followed quickly by Micheal.
After a brief greeting by each guest, Westley took a good look at his group; a strange combination of faces surrounded him, but they were the closest thing to a gang he’d ever get, and it made him happy that they had chosen to begin their final high school summer by his side. He lifted his bottle of beer in the air. “Here’s to making it.” He offered, and everyone returned the gesture with theirs, cheering in agreeance. He was just about to begin telling them of his plans for the evening, when a sudden ringing echoed through the massive, endless house.
Westley’s brow furrowed. The doorbell? But everyone was already there… “What the hell?”

He sauntered from the dining hall and through the foyer, to the door peering through the peep hole. A youth who couldn’t have been much different age from himself stood there in a navy hoodie, despite the ninety degree weather, head down as though in prayer. Westley was confused; he couldn’t see the youth’s face, but he was certain he didn’t know him. And moreover, he felt like something simply wasn’t right.
Slumped over his shoulder, in a pink hoodie which also hid a face, was a female with long, blonde locks that hung past her chest. She was holding her stomach, where deep red liquid had seeped through her sweatshirt.
Westley bit his lip. He could clearly see that she was injured, and badly in need of help, but he just didn’t feel right about the whole thing. It was a small town; everybody knew everybody. How were there two youths that he should have gone to school with standing on his steep, and he hadn’t a clue who they could have been?
He kept the chain on the door, but cracked it just enough to draw his head through the crack. “Can I help you?” He asked, heistant.
“Please, My girlfriend is hurt. You have to help us.” His voice fluctuated, but there was not shaking to it. No panic. It felt rehearsed.
“Who are you?” Westley asked. “I know everyone in town, but I’ve never seen you…”
“Please, sir. You have to help us.” Demanding, but not terrified. Steady.
“What happened?” Westley asked.
“Car accident. Please help.”
Westley took a moment to think. “I’ll call an ambulance for you. Just wait here.”
He went to close the door, but a hand that seemed too strong for such a narrow youth swung out and held it opened. “I have to tell her mother, sir. Please, let me in. Let me use our phone. I have to tell her family what’s happened.” He insisted. There wa an urgency, but not one of panick, but of anger. He was frustrated with Westley.
“I don’t know…” He started.
“what’s going on?” The Voice was soft and dainty, and it came from behind him.
Alisson came upon his shoulder, and the rest of the pack was sure to follow. Westley shrugged. “They need an ambulance. I told them I would call.” He offered.
“I need to call her family.” The young man insisted. “To let them know what happened.”
“Let them in.” Alisson offered.
“I don’t think I should. Something doesn’t feel right.”
“Come on, dude,” Micheal chimed in. “You going to let them lovely thing die out here?”
Westley hesitated. “please wait out here. I’ll go call an ambulance.” He insisted before closing the door on the couple and vanishing into another room in the maze of a house.
Rodney frowned. “What’s his problem?”
Micheal shrugged. “Hell if I know. She looked hot though. I say we let them in.”
Alisson shoved him. “Don’t you ever use your other head?” She questioned. “Look, I agree that they shouldn’t have to sit out there, but it’s Westley’s house. If he says he doesn’t want them inside, we have to respect that.”
Rodney lifted an eyebrow. “So we should just let them sit out there and die?”
“Ali is right.” Said the blonde with the light German accent. “Have some respect.”
Micheal rolled his eyes. “You just want to get in his pants, Geretch.” He offered. “You know she shouldn’t have to sit out there as much as we do.”
“But it is not your house!” She insisted.
The four of them were so busy arguing amongst themselves that they seemed to overlook the young, silent boy in the group as he made his way to the door. Lester wrapped his fingers around the handle, and released its hold, swinging it open. The room fell silent as the door swung wide open. “Come in.” He offered, and everyone stared in awe at the open threshold.
A smile crossed both of their lips, as though on cue and they lifted their pale heads. Their flesh was blue and pale like death, but that wasn’t their distinguishing feature. No, their eyes, solid black all the way through, like voids into another world. Four devilish black eyes lay upon the room, and with said invitation, they vanished before the groups eyes.
Westley returned to the room within seconds of their vanishing, to a room with an entirely new aura. Those who had been against leaving the teens in the cold had certainly changed their outlook now. “The ambulance is on its way.” Westley offered with uncertain assurance. “What did I miss?”
Micheal raised a shaking hand to the doorway. “They…. They vanished.” He offered, amazed and terrified all at once.
“How do you…?” Westley started.
“It was Lester!” Gretchen accused. “He told them they could come in, and they vanished.”
“You were going to let those… those things into my house?!” He shouted at the silent youth. But he gave that some thought, and turned to Gretchen. “Wait: what do you mean ‘vanished’?”
Alisson interjected. ‘Gone. Poof! Up in smoke. “They vanished right in front of us like some sort of ghost.” She offered as explanation, though it raised more question in Westley’s mind. “Whatever they were, they sure as hell weren’t Normal.”
Westley felt a sickness creep through his body. It started at his knees, then worked its way to his stomach, heart, and stopped just shy of his esophagus. He wanted to vomit. He had no idea what had happened, but he got the feeling that his little friend had just invited a nightmare into his home. And if that was all they needed to hear was an offer of entry, he was certain they hadn’t left. They were inside, somewhere. “They are here.” He muttered to himself.
“Here?” Rodney questioned.
He looked up at them. “In the house. They… they must have needed to be invited in.” they returned his declaration with blank stares. “Don’t you get it? They couldn’t enter without our permission, and they got it!”
“Are you trying to say that we’re dealing with some sort of… vampire or something?” Alisson questioned. It just seemed silly to her. “That’s ridiculous. Look; maybe we just imagined this whole thing. They probably just… I don’t know, left? She looked like she was in bad shape. Maybe they just went to another house for help.”
“Or maybe they are going to drain our blood and leave us for dead.” Micheal Retorted.
Gretchen crossed her arms over her full chest. “We should stay together either way. We’ll be safer if…”
A door swung open, and with a gust of wind a shade of mist, Gretchen went flying across the room and into the void that was once their kitchen. She screamed the way there, until the door slammed shut behind her, and silence befell the room.
The group stared at the door with fearful amazement. “Gretch?” Westley muttered, but after several seconds, there was no response. “Hey, Gretchen…” He tried again, but not a sound came from the room.
He inched closer, the other four following close behind him. His hand inched toward the door, slowly. He was careful and hesitant as he reached out for the only barrier between the group and the monsters inside. But as he finally gained the courage to turn the knob and push the door open, he realized that the room was just as barren as they had left it.
“G—Gretchen?” His voice shook as he called her name, but there was no answer.
“Maybe she got scared. I can’t say I blame her…” Alisson offered.
Westley shook his head. “No, she has to be here. They have her.” He insisted. “She couldn’t have just up and run, there’s something inhuman in here. I can feel it.”
Micheal rolled his eyes and pushed forward. “Very funny, Gretch!” He offered. No response. “Look, we get it; Funny joke, haha. Now come on out.” He insisted. Nothing.
Rodney crossed his arms. “I don’t think it’s a joke, Mike.” He offered. “If it was, those were some pretty spectacular special effects, don’t you think?”
Micheal shook his head. “No, this is too messed up! It has to be a joke. Some stupid prank, one last hoorah before we go our separate ways. Westley’s probably in on it too, that’s why he invited us here, right? Right?!”
Westley took a step back. His friend sounded almost threatening, and it made him uncomfortable. “I had nothing to do with any of this.” He insisted. “I swear.”
Mike sneered. “Oh shut up! You’re the one spouting off all this nonsense about some crazy creatures coming in here. It’s straight out of a horror movie!”
“We are all scared!” Alisson interjected. “But this isn’t anyone’s fault! If Westley was a part of this, he would have let us know by now. He wouldn’t let it go this far.” She insisted. “Right, Wes?”
“Of course!” He insisted. “When have I ever tried anything like this? Come on, this isn’t me!”
Mike was just about to continue his accusations, but the door closed behind them and, when they tried to force it open once more, it simply wouldn’t budge. Panic filled the room, as the ever present evil that now occupied that house overwhelmed the remaining five.
They turned, ready to try the door leading outside, but stopped dead in their tracked. Something blocked their way. A young boy, about their age, with solid black eyes and a malicious grin. “Going somewhere?” He asked.

What do you want?!” Rodney shouted.
“Calm down, sweetie.” The voice came from behind the group. Female, and full of malice. “It’s just a little fun.”
They turned to face the falsely injured girl before shifting their gaze back to the other creature in the room once more.
“Where’s Gretchen?” Westley insisted. But to his question, they simply gave a vicious giggle and disappeared.
The female figure appeared behind Rodney, wrapping her arms around him before vanishing yet again, pulling the boy with her. “Rodney!” Alisson shouted.
A hand grabbed her arm and, with a shriek, she was pulled through the outside door and vanished without a trace. Micheal rushed to the door and pulled on it, shouting her name endlessly before he sunk to his knees, tears swelling in his eyes. “What’s happening?! Where are they taking them?”
Westley would have responded, but he was in shock. He simply stared out the window of that closed door in terrified astonishment, horrified by the events. Three left, he though, Just three more of us. We are going to go wherever they are going. We are going to be killed or tortured or… who knows what will happen to us. We will vanish just like they have.
Micheal was now back on his feet, determined to reunite with the others. He slammed his body into the door, but despite his efforts, it simply wouldn’t break. They were trapped in the room with no hope.
But something was happening to the paralyzed Westley. He body was, literally, disintegrating before his eyes. He watched as his hands and feet vanished, and then his arms and legs, and then his torso began to leave him. “Mike…” He muttered, too stunned to explain.
Micheal halted to turn to his friend, but he was gone before he could reach him, and then he was gone. Mike was now desperate. He grabbed a pan from the cupboard and slammed it into the glass panes on the door, shattering it, but before he could leave, the glass reappeared before him. “What the….”
Before he could finish this thought, a light shined down upon him, and he two was gone.
And then there was one. One boy who had been silent throughout this whole endeavor. One boy who had let the evil in. He stared with wide eyes as his friends vanished one by one, and now he stood alone in the kitchen of a house he did not own.
The black eyed children appeared behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder. “Ready?” They asked in unison. And to that, he nodded, and the light came and took them away.

Credit To – Liz loveless

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Black-Eyed Kids In Kansas

December 10, 2009 at 4:06 AM
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It was warm for a December afternoon in Hutchinson, Kan., when Katie came home from work in 2008. Katie’s ride dropped her off across from her duplex, and as she stood in the street, her ride moving slowly away, she knew something wasn’t right.

“I noticed two boys standing in my driveway,” she said. “One had longer dark hair and the other had his hood up so I couldn’t see him very well.”

The teenagers, about 15 or 16 years old, seemed to be watching her – Katie felt they were waiting for her. She steeled herself and walked nervously across the road toward her porch. The boys had lurked around her neighborhood for months, but they’d never been so bold as to stand this close to her home.

“I had seen them before, lingering in the yard, but they always left before I got out of my ride’s car,” Katie said. “I had seen them late at night as well standing across the street when I would go outside to have an occasional late-night cigarette.”

But, although pangs of unease told her to run, their boldness angered her. She stopped and asked them why they were on her property.

“They told me they needed to use a phone and that the neighbors would not let them in,” she said. “That was when I noticed their eyes – they were coal black. Just black. No white and not even a hint of iris or pupil.”

Fear shot through her, but as evenly as she could, Katie told them she didn’t have a telephone. Katie walked up her porch steps and began to unlock her door when the boy in the hood spoke.

“He asked if they could come in for a glass of water,” she said. “I turned to look at them again thinking maybe my mind was playing tricks. But no, when I turned and looked into their eyes they were pitch black as the first time.”

These children with dead, black eyes had spoken softly to her, emotion and vocal inflection absent from their words. As she looked at these boys, whose long hair and hooded sweatshirts she felt hid more than skin, she knew she had to get away.

“I felt panicked and fearful but also very vulnerable and cold,” she said. “It was like I wanted to let them in but I knew there was evil present. I had felt uneasy before seeing their eyes but now it all came out.”

Then one boy said something that turned her fear into complete terror.

“The hooded one then told me they couldn’t come in unless I told them it was OK and that they hoped I would because they were thirsty,” Katie said. “I opened my door and darted inside. At this point I shut the door and locked it.”

She dropped onto the couch, her breaths coming in short, heavy gasps, when something tapped on the window behind her head.

“One of the boys stood there staring through the glass,” Katie said. “I remember his words very clearly; ‘just let us in, miss. We aren’t dangerous, we don’t have anything to hurt you with.’ I was beyond frightened at this point.”

Katie jumped off the couch and ran through the duplex, checking doors and windows to make sure they were locked.

“I did wonder if they really couldn’t come in unless invited but I didn’t want to find out,” she said. “I sat in the living room silently waiting for a sign that they had gone.”

When her boyfriend came home a short time later, the black-eyed teens were still at the house.

“(He) asked if I knew who the two boys outside were and I said ‘no,’” Katie said. “He told me they had been standing in the driveway when he pulled up but walked away when he stepped out of the car.”

He didn’t notice the boys’ eyes, but “they gave him a strange feeling.”

Katie later asked her neighbors if the black-eyed children had asked to use their telephone like they had claimed. The neighbors noticed the teens standing in Katie’s driveway, but never spoke with them.

Although it’s been more than a year since Katie turned the black-eyed children from her door, she knows they’re still around.

“I still see them every now and then standing across the street watching,” she said. “But they have not approached again.”


Written by Jason Offutt – you can see much more of his stuff at his blog, From The Shadows. I highly recommend it!

As an additional note, this is supposedly a true story, so if you think it should’ve ended differently, learn to time travel/become God/Haruhi Suzumiya/etc…

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The Black Eyed Kids

August 6, 2008 at 12:31 PM
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My Internet Service Provider used to have offices in a shopping center before they moved to their (comparatively) lush accommodations elsewhere. There was a drop box at that original location. The monthly bill was due, and thus, there but for the Grace of the Net I went.

It was about 9:30 p.m. when I left. From my relatively isolated apartments, it’s about 10-15 minutes or so to downtown (Abilene has a population of about 110,000).

Right next to Camalott Communications’ old location is a $1.50 movie theater. At the time, the place was featuring that masterwork of modern film, Mortal Kombat. I drove by the theater on the way into the center proper and pulled into an empty parking space.

Using the glow of the marquee to write out my check, I was startled to hear a knock on the driver’s-side window of my car.

I looked over and saw two children staring at me from street. I need to describe them, with the one feature (you can guess what it was) that I didn’t realize until about half-way through the conversation cleverly omitted.

Both appeared to be in that semi-mystical stage of life children get into where you can’t exactly tell their age. Both were boys, and my initial impression is that they were somewhere between 10-14.

Boy No. 1 was the spokesman. Boy No. 2 didn’t speak during the entire conversation — at least not in words.

Boy No. 1 was slightly taller than his companion, wearing a pull-over, hooded shirt with a sort of gray checked pattern and jeans. I couldn’t see his shoes. His skin was olive-colored and had curly, medium-length brown hair. He exuded an air of quiet confidence.

Boy No. 2 had pale skin with a trace of freckles. His primary characteristic seemed to be looking around nervously. He was dressed in a similar manner to his companion, but his pull-over was a light green color. His hair was a sort of pale orange.

They didn’t appear to be related, at least directly.

“Oh, great,” I thought. “They’re gonna hit me up for money.” And then the air changed.

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