They might knock on your door on a late, quiet night that you’re home; or if you’re out, they might approach your car while you’re stopped. They might seem to be in need of your help, or they might just want to come in for no clear reason. They won’t look threatening; mere children, in fact. But they do want to come in. They may give you this excuse or that one, but no matter what you say, they will persist. They must get in. And you will say no. You will say no because they are not quite right: their eyes are black. Pure black. From lid to lid, dead black orbs devoid of sclera or iris will send a chill up your spine. They are the black eyed kids.
Stories about these creepy looking children have been multiplying in recent years. Virtually all of them are copy-and-pasted from one web page to another, or appear in self-published, print-on-demand books that are little more than copied Internet content. Thus it’s pretty hard to attribute very many of the stories to credible witnesses. Nobody has ever taken a reliable photograph of a black eyed kid; none have ever been stopped by authorities on the lookout for runaways. Real or not, the black eyed kids are known really only from the many oft-repeated accounts of dubious origin:
I was sitting on the couch watching a movie, when suddenly I heard someone hardly beating the door. I got up went to the closest next to the front door and pulled out a cricket bat. I opened the door and I saw three kids standing there… One of them told me that they were lost and needed to call there mum. They asked to come in, that was the biggest mistake of my life when I said okay… I went into the living room and what I saw amazed me little. All three of them were sitting quietly, faced down. At the same time all three of them looked at me. Those were seriously the most scariest eyes I had ever seen. But staring at them for 10 seconds more and I was screaming like a girl. I ran towards the garage door, I felt all three of them running after me because I could hear their feet thumping the wooden floors. I ran into the garage and locked the door.
• • • • •
I looked through the peephole… Outside were two kids… Had it not been for the feeling of overwhelming dread and fear, I probably would have asked these children in and given them some tea or hot chocolate to get them out of the bitter cold. Something about them seemed off… The older one spoke. She had a voice that was mature, confidant, strong, and accentless. She held her head tilted downward, and I couldn’t see her eyes. She said “We have to use your phone.” I stood frozen in fear. How did she know I was there? She raised her head to face me directly, and that was when I saw her eyes. There was a reason I couldn’t see them through her bangs before- they were black, or midnight blue, or a dark, dark purple- they were otherworldly. She said “Our mother is worried.”
• • • • •
I saw some kid walking back and forth along the sidewalk in front of my parked car… The boy walked over to the side of my car and just stares, I think to let me get a good look at his eyes. To freak me out. Let me tell you.. If you have never seen a black eyed kid.. you have no idea what to imagine. Pupils black as the night sky. The boy whispers “You must let me in” and then i locked the car doors and ducked down into the space below the seats. Five minutes later he was gone. When my mother got into the car she told me a boy with black eyes had came into the hairdressers had insisted for my mother to give him the keys to the car.
Stories told by anonymous posters identified only by their Internet handle. Overall, the body of evidence is not a compelling one. A number of eyewitnesses claim to have called the police and had them show up, but the literature . . .