Posts Related to Black Eyed Kids

Stories relating to Black Eyed Children and Black Eyed Kids encounters as well as discussion on who or what they may be and what they are trying to do.

If you are just hearing about them for the first time, I suggest that you start by reading this post:

Black Eyed Kids - An Introduction

White Eyed Kids

Reports Of White Eyed Kids Filter In With Reports Of Black Eyed Kids

White Eyed KidsYou may be familiar with “Black Eyed Children” or “Black Eyed Kids” (BEK), how they operate and the results of encounters with them.  But there is a phenomenon that is being reported along with them and that is encounters with White Eyed Kids”.  While not as common, it seems that a few people have reported seeing them and their methods of operation seem to differ slightly from the BEKs.

This report was filed on Reddit by a now deleted account in 2013.

I live with my brother and his girlfriend in a fairly small Southern town. Our work schedules are at odds with each other, which means that usually one of us is home alone at any given time, with little overlap. That suits me, as I’m pretty solitary and wired to make my own fun.

Despite that, a couple days ago (Saturday, 22 June) I was sitting at home, both of them were at work, and I found myself bored out of my mind at around 3 PM. After unsuccessfully flipping through TV channels, I decided to hop in my truck and cruise around for a bit. Driving put me at ease and is usually something I do late at night. The quiet, the lack of activity in the streets…there’s something about it that’s calming to me.

I never really have any particular direction on my joy rides, though I found myself in the old part of town. I figured that was fortuitous timing since I was down to my last cigarette and there’s a tobacco shop around there that carries my brand (Dunhill). I looked at my watch and saw that it was 4:45 or so; about time to get home and start prepping dinner for my brother and his lady. Enough time to stop for those cigarettes. Once there I parked the truck around the corner, went in, bought my smokes, and left. I hopped back in the truck, cursing myself for leaving the window up when it was so goddamn hot outside.

As soon as I was inside, a sudden light tapping on the window startled me. I turned to look out the driver-side window to see a kid, maybe 8 or 9 years old standing right about a foot from the door, staring at me.

“Yeah kid?” I asked. He stood motionless and expressionless for a few seconds after I asked the question before saying, “Mister, can you roll your window down?” My hand started to reach for the crank, but I stopped myself. That pit in my stomach was starting to feel wrong.

I shook my head and asked, “What do you need, kid?” Another few seconds before the kid replied, “Mister, I think I’m lost.” I started to realize that besides this kid’s mouth moving, he hasn’t budged at all since knocking on my window. No change in facial expression, nothing.

Playing the sympathy card is definitely standard operating procedure for Black Eyed Kids, as is the lack of any unnecessary movement. Watch a child for a moment, if they are awake, they are never stock still.  For a child to knock on a stranger’s window (an odd thing to do anyway) and then stand like a statue is definitely unnatural.

“Where are your parents?” I realized that my voice was starting to quaver. What the fuck? I’m a veteran. I’m not easily intimidated, and this is just a child. He said, “I can’t find them. Can you drive me home? Please take me home. Just unlock the doors and I’ll get in.”

Again, we see the request of an action to let them in or an acceptance of them into your life in some way. I still can’t shake the similarities to the old stories of vampires and how they couldn’t come in unless they were invited. Perhaps there is some underlying order to the universe that says true evil can’t enter your life unless willingly invited.

At this point, I feel like something’s up. I look away from the kid for the first time to make sure I’d put my keys in the ignition. Check. I glanced over my right shoulder, wondering if this kid was bait for some kind of robbery, but there weren’t even cars behind me for about a block, let alone people standing nearby. I’m psyching myself out. This kid needs some help, I told myself.

So I looked back at the kid and my blood ran cold. Why hadn’t I noticed before? The kid has no pupils. Fuck, he doesn’t even have irises. It’s just white. Not like he’s blind, where the pupils are milky. Just fucking stark white eyes. Shit. He still hasn’t moved a muscle. Then I noticed his skin. Pale, almost translucent.

I quickly turned the ignition, and my stomach dropped like I’d made a big mistake. As soon as that thing standing outside my truck heard the engine fire, he scowled, and started knocking on the window. Not the light tapping from before, but hard. “Mister, just let me in your truck and take me home. It’s okay.” I don’t know how, but I could feel his voice more than hear it, where previously what he was saying was hard to make out.

I threw the truck into drive and peeled out of there, glancing in the rear view only once I’d cleared a full block. The kid still had barely moved, and only turned his head to face me. “What the fuck,” I kept yelling to myself. I couldn’t say anything else. I just kept driving at probably 15 MPH over the limit, and I’m pretty sure I blew through a couple stop signs.

It wasn’t until I actually pulled into my driveway that I realized I was even heading towards home. I put the truck in park and took a few breaths to calm myself. After I got my bearings, I looked outside and realized that it was dark out. Late twilight, almost night. I looked at my watch, which read 7:01. I was no more than five miles away from that tobacco shop, but it took me almost two and a half hours to get home. When did I lose that time?

It took me another 20 minutes to get up the courage to step out of the truck and go inside the house. When I did, I went straight to my room, grabbed my Glock, and went around the house making sure all the doors were locked. My brother and his girlfriend wouldn’t be off work until 8:30, so I had to make sure the house was empty. It was, after all. I just can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. I spent Sunday drinking and keeping my Glock close by, and this morning I called in sick to work. Last night I told my brother what happened, and he thinks I overreacted. But I know what I saw.

It sounds like the writer didn’t get into too much trouble from his experience. Others that have gotten too big of a dose of the presence of BEKs have definitely had some negative side effects.

In a later post, the writer follows up on what happened in the days after his encounter.

I still haven’t seen the kid, though I was sure I would as soon as I stepped out of my house. I’d just spent the past couple days totally paralyzed, but by this morning my courage was bolstered.

My workday was nothing special. I’m in the IT department of a small, regional hospital, and today was nothing out of the ordinary. As usual, just calls from doctors who act like they’ve never touched a computer in their lives. It wasn’t until I left work that anything out of the ordinary happened.

There’s a two-story parking complex attached to the hospital by a skyway, and every other entrance in and out of the complex is guarded. I admit that I felt nervous at the idea of approaching my truck again, though I kept beating myself up about being such a pussy. I’m an atheist. Even if it is a kid with fucked up eyes, what the hell can he do? Even if he’s bait for some kind of car robbery, I’m more than capable of handling a couple of guys. Especially today, since I put the Glock in my glove compartment.

Then I saw the hand prints. Two god damn kid-sized hand prints on the driver side door, and two on the windshield. Greasy, nasty fuckin’ hand prints. I looked around the truck, down the parking aisle, nothing. So I unlocked the truck, stepped in, closed and locked the door behind me, then pulled the pistol out of the glove box. I started to put the key in the ignition, but I didn’t feel quite right about that. I wondered, *that little fucker was all over my truck. What if he did something to it?”

So I got back out, holstered the Glock (I’d worn the holster, but can’t bring the pistol into the hospital), and popped the hood. I’m not much of a mechanic, so I didn’t exactly know what to look for. I guess I wanted to make sure everything looked normal. Reasonably satisfied (not that I’d really recognize sabotage at a glance, anyway), I got back in the truck and locked the door as it was closing. I turned the ignition, and no problems there. Once I put it in gear, I drove slowly and brake-checked, just to make sure the brake line wasn’t fucked with.

The drive home was unnerving. As soon as I pulled out of the parking garage the sky just dropped. Fucking monsoon levels of rain. I hate Summer storms while I’m driving. That, and I had to pass by a playground a couple blocks away from the hospital. Almost unavoidable if I wanted to get on the highway. There’s always a few kids out there, even in rain storms. Kids love getting muddy, I guess. However, I did see a kid just…standing on the sidewalk, facing the playground. Gave me the chills.

I got home just fine, though. The house was empty, as usual. As soon as the rain let up, I took my camera outside, hoping to take a photo of the hand prints, but they’d washed off. Of course.

I’m getting sick of this shit.

Having any kind of physical evidence of an encounter with a BEK or White Eyed Kid is pretty rare, but also shows that they do more than just just knock.  They are watching and really want in. Why they want in and what happens is still up for debate, but with the number of missing people in the country every day, I’m not going to rule out that at least a few fall prey to supernatural phenomenon.

Lastly, in the comments to his post, he answers a few of the questions people had of him.

Well, I don’t know about “controlled,” but I was ready to roll down the window when that thing asked me to. I guess I’m glad my instincts kicked in and I refused. I didn’t really start feeling that something was off, initially.

I’m pretty distrusting of most people, and I don’t usually help strangers out.

Edit: I missed your last sentence initially. As I said, the kid was about 8 or 9, I’d guess. Very skinny, and I can’t exactly figure out his height, except that he had to just barely look up at me as I was sitting in my truck (an S10). For the life of me I can’t remember what color hair he had.

So far, the biggest difference we have is they eye color.  The MO is standard for BEKs. I’ve watched one video that references White Eyed Kids appearing to older people and seniors and that their appearance is a herald to someone, either the victim or someone close to them dying.  So far I haven’t found any substantiation of that, so if you know of any, please send us a message and let us know.

One Thought On White Eyed Kid’s Eye Color

The debate still goes on as to what the actual nature of Black Eyed Kids and White Eyed Kids are, but I lay my money on them being some form of demon.  That being said, I think the eye color could be significant.  Demon eye color tends to be indicative of their status and what they represent.  Here is one chart that explains it.

The Seven Princes of Hell have a specific eye color according to their sin of representation.


White-eyed demons – The demon chiefs of staff.
Yellow-eyed demons – The demon army generals.
Red-eyed demons – The demon deal-makers.
Black-eyed demons – The soldiers, thugs, henchmen, minions.

If this is the case then the traditional BEKs are going to obviously going to be more common than White Eyed Kids, which makes sense looking at the number of encounters that are reported for both types.  It also means that encounters with White Eyed Kids are potentially far more dangerous.  Perhaps this is why in this encounter, the victim actually found hand prints.  The White Eyed Kid was being much more involved in the attack.

But Why Do They Appear As Children?

Most people would agree that mammals are wired to trust other mammalian children. Regardless of species and familial affiliation (with some exception) we generally treat infants/children as something that is not dangerous and relatively innocent. Demons would know this and use it to their advantage.

Think of all the haunting cases where the innocent child that someone encounters actually turns out to be a demon slowly luring them into their world.  I suspect that in the case of BEK and WEK, this is the same situation.

Have You Encountered A White Eyed Kid?

If you have had an encounter with a BEK or White Eyed Kid, please send us an email and let us know.  We would be glad to hear what happened to you and post your encounter here on the site!


Black Eyed Kids Terrorize Hiker In Michigan

BEK Encounter In A Deserted Campground

Here is a Black Eyed Kid Story that I thought you would enjoy.  I found this one particularly interesting because most BEK encounters are in urban areas.  This time the victim was a lone man camping in an otherwise deserted campground.  Makes you wonder if any of Paulide’s Missing 411 cases are due to Black Eyed Kids.

Meeting Black Eyed Kids someplace where you can lock the door is one thing.  But out in the woods?  That is a whole different story.  Alone…  In the dark…  With BEKs trying to get you to help them find their supposed camp site?  Nooooo thank you!

From David:

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.

Black Eyed Kid encounter at Sleeping Bear DunesAs 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.

[Tweet ““Please let us in.” “No,” I screeched, and then again, “no!” #BEK #Paranormal”]

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 moths 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.

I think David’s advice when you encounter a Black Eyed Kid is probably wise. The more you interact with them, the more it seems you are putting yourself at risk.  The veil that separates our world from that of the ParaRational is incredibly thin.  This is just another account of what happens when something from the other side steps across and starts playing in our world.

The earliest account of this story that I could find is posted on  If you know of an earlier version or a source for verifying this story please email us!    Don’t forget that you can find us on our Facebook page and on Twitter at @ParaRational.  Be sure to follow us for all the latest stories!

BEK Encounter

Black Eyed Kid Near Miss

This report of a Black Eyed Kid was sent in by one of our readers that identified himself as Justin

It was about 5 years ago in my senior year of high school. It was a cold winter night in the middle of February. I had gone to go grab some fast food and was on my way back home. My mom and I lived in a gated community at the time, so as I was turning in I spotted this fairly attractive girl. I swiped my key-card on the box to open the gate, and I turned around to get another glimpse of this girl. If I remember correctly, she was wearing a hoodie and jeans. She appeared a little excited as a turned around to take another glimpse of her. She was about 5 feet away from my truck and kept getting a little closer. By the time she got about a foot or two towards my face, I saw her jet black eyes and a feeling of terror that’s absolutely indescribable swept over my body. I immediately floored the gas pedal and got away from this girl. Thankfully the gate had enough time to open for me to fly through it

or I just maybe have ran over it. I still felt frightened by the feeling she gave me for a good 30 minutes. I even struggled to unlock the door to get in the house due to me trembling in fear. I sat down in the house and ate my food while trying to calm down that night.

Could this have just been a kid with blackout lenses, but that sense of terror is a trademark trait of a run in with a BEK.  Was he just lucky and managed to get through the gate before she could start trying to talk her way in?  In any event I’m glad he got away.  One thing is for sure, Justin is sure he had a near miss with a Black Eyed Kid.

I know some people think these stories are all a tale. Mine are NOT! I really saw every bit of this with my own two eyes. Thanks for reading!


Black Eyed Kid Encounter In New York

A Black Eyed Kid Terrifies Man in New York

Danville NY BEK encounter

A Black Eyed Kid terrorized a man home alone in Dansville, NY. Will you be next or have you already seen a BEK?

This terrifying Black Eyed Kids encounter is a couple of years old, but is one of two that have come in recently from New York.  The setting is as you would expect.  He was home alone, and expecting someone completely different when he opened his front door.

A couple of things I find really interesting in this account.  First is that there were three of them. That is slightly unusual.

Secondly, none to my surprise the front porch light wasn’t working.  That is a common thread.  Lights don’t work, cameras fail, anything to make it harder to spot the BEKs.

Lastly is that he dials the police, but the call doesn’t go through.  More electrical interference from the Black Eyed Kids?

My take on this is that this gentleman is probably very lucky that he ran for it when he did.  Read it through and tell me what you think.  And if you have had an experience with the BEKs be sure to report it!

This happened back in February of 2009.

As being a Muslim I’m not allowed to have a relationship with a girl until I get married. I was super excited that day because my family was going out of state to attend a wedding. My secretly relationed girlfriend was supposed to spend the two days at my house. She lived in Buffalo and was supposed to arrive at my place at 7 pm that night.

Report Black Eyed Kid Encounters!

Have you had and experience with the Black Eyed Children? If so, then we want to hear about it. Click on the link below to report your encounter with the Black Eyed Children and help spread the word about this phenomenon.


At 7.30 I called her and she said she was running late because she got out of class late. She told me 30 more minutes according to the GPS.  At 7.15, 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. My damn front light wasn’t working but I could see the first two kids, not much clearly, and the outline shape of the third one. They were all looking at me, judging by their outlined head shapes towards my face. 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. They came in all facing downwards. I told them to go sit on the couch. They walked passed me in an orderly fashion. I went to get the home phone from the kitchen. I wanted to call the cops first. So I did, but the call didn’t go through. I went into the living room and what I saw amazed me little.

All three of them were sitting quietly, faced down. I thought they were good mannered children. I walked over to them and gave them the phone. At that moment my girlfriend called on my cell telling me that she was 5 min away. Talking to her I walked over to the kitchen, I don’t know why.

I disconnected her and thought maybe I should asked them if they were hungry or wanted a drink. I stood by the living room door, which connects the kitchen, and asked them if they wanted something. At the same time all three of them looked at me. Those were seriously the most scariest eyes I had ever seen.

First I thought it must be because of the lights because it was a lil dim. 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 locked the door, pushed the garage door button and crawled out as soon as the slow moron door opened till my knees. I got up and looked around, confused what to do. I looked back at the house trying to see if the kids were gonna pop from somewhere after me.

I picked up two bricks lying across the pavement, which my mom uses for gardening sometimes. I waited for them to come out. I was gonna pop their heads open if they came out. I stood there for like 2 or 3 minutes when I saw headlights at the end of the street. I ran towards them.

I reached the door and saw that the driver was my girl. That was the happiest moment of my life with her. I got into the passenger seat and screamed at her to hit the pedal. She saw my face was full sweat and frightened and she hit the gas pedal. We went straight to the police station. I told the cop the whole incident. She asked me to get a breath test. I got really angry and told her to come with me. My girlfriend believed me as she believed in paranormal stuff.

We went to the house, lights were still on. The cop had the gun in his hand and asked us to wait outside. She went inside and I picked up two more bricks and so did my gf. She came back after 5 mins and said there was nobody inside, as she said that backup car was here. I asked them to accompany me inside. There was nobody in the house. But the back door, which leads to the backyard, was opened. There were shoe marks of mud on the floor by the couch they were sitting on and the garage door looked a little cracked up. They still wouldn’t believe me.

I didn’t file a report because I didn’t want the story to get out because it was a small town, stories spread like fire and I didn’t want people to think i was crazy. Me and my gf locked the house, drove back to buffalo and spent the night in her dorm. I didn’t come back till the day my family got back. But after that incident i never stayed home alone. I would accompany them or spend a night at a friends. I still go to sleep with a baseball bat and pepper spray in bed

Portland Black Eyed Children

Report of BEK Encounter in Portland

I found this report online, but have not been able to contact the original poster to confirm any details. (Harvestwind)

Man..I came across this newsgroup by accident as I am moving to
Portland in a few months and I was just doing a little general
research about the city. I was stunned to read about the incidents
with the creepy black eyed kid’s because I had a similar incident
happen to me, while visiting Portland in August of 2000.

My girlfriend and I were staying at the hostel on Glisan Ave in NW
Portland. It’s a very nice place in a hip and fun, if a little
yuppyish section of town. Anyway, it was a Friday night, actually
early Saturday morning. April, my girlfriend, and I were up
socializing with another couple from England, sharing some laughs and
playing some songs..I had my guitar with me. Well, at about 2:30 AM,
we suddenly realized that there was no more beer left and none of us
really felt like calling it a night just yet. Well April reminded me
that I had bought a couple of bottles of Pinot Noir from a little
place called the City Market earlier in the day, but they were still
in the trunk of her car. So she tossed me the keys and I ventured out
to make the hike to where the car was parked.

There is a sort of a “good luck finding a spot to park” policy at the
hostel, so we ended up parking in a spot off a side street about four
blocks from the hostel. It’s not really a bad area, nightlife was
still winding down not too far away from the hostel, and I could hear
the random noises of revelry off in the distance. But as I walked to
the car, I found myself feeling very alone.

As I turned down the street to where the car was parked, a misty rain
filled the air, not really drops, but a kind of misty directionless
rain. The streetlights lit my path and reflected their dim glow in the
wet pavement. As I reached the car and slid my keys into the trunk
latch, I heard this voice call out. “Hey mister”. Thinking I was
alone, and not having seen anyone as I was walking down the street, I
was very startled, and I whirled around to be greeted by the face of
an adolescent who gazed at me intently from just a few feet away.

I was really unnerved and by reflex I jumped back then grabbed my
chest and said something like, “Jesus man, you just scared the shit
out of me”. The kid just kept looking at me undaunted. He appeared to
be between the age of 11-14. And he wore old jeans and a hooded
sweatshirt. His hair was black and his skin was tan. He had a
Mediterranean look about him. It was then that I noticed that his eyes
were all black. My first thought was that he was on LSD because I know
that that can dilate your pupils and give that type of appearance. But
this kid didn’t seem to be on a drug, he seemed very calm and
confident. It was kind of unnerving to have a kid act like that.

He said, without looking away, “I’m lost and scared, do you think you
could give me a ride to my mom’s house?” But this kid didn’t look
scared at all. Masked behind those youthful features, was the
expression of a wolf leering at me. I’m a fit 28-year-old man, and
what I felt was real fear. He kept moving closer and closer to me.

Quickly I broke eye contact…It was difficult though because those
eyes were compelling. Deep pools of black, they looked ageless in
contract to that young face. They stared at me reflecting the
streetlights. It was like gazing up at a star sprent sky on a clear

“I backed off up onto the curb and stammered, “Uh no..Really I can’t,
I have to go..Sorry”. I kept looking at the ground because I had the
feeling that if I kept looking at his black eyes I would become
trapped like a fly in a spider’s web.

I heard him say..”Oh that’s OK, here come my friends.” I quickly
looked up past him down the road and I saw another young boy and a
girl about a block further down in the middle of the street. I didn’t
have my glasses on and I have trouble seeing clearly off that far. But
I’ll be damned if it didn’t look like they were floating towards us a
couple of inches off the ground.

I turned around to run and I heard a guttural growling behind me. I
ran faster than I ever ran in my life straight towards the hostel. I
kept feeling like they were right there, behind me..clawing at the
back of my neck….I will never forget that feeling as long as I live.
It was the closest I ever experienced to true terror.

When the hostel was in sight I finally looked back and I found myself
alone. I kept running though and didn’t stop until I was again with my
friends. They were all surprised to see me panting bending over. They
asked, “What happened?”, “Where’s the wine?”. I collapsed on the floor
and didn’t speak until I regained my composure. Suddenly I felt
ashamed that I ran from a group of kids. I never told them what
happened; I told them that some thugs tried to start a fight…

Obviously, at that point I no longer felt like socializing and I told
my friends that I wanted to retire for the evening. So April and I
went to our room. Despite the warmth I insisted on shutting the window
and closing the curtains. I didn’t sleep a wink..

I never told anyone what really happened until now. When I read that
story my blood ran cold and all my hair stood on end. I’m still moving
there this fall

Psychic Black Eyed Kids Encounter

Black Eyed Kids on the Porch

I am sure with the sudden increase in awareness of Black Eyed Kid encounters, that we will see some teens trying to prank or hoax adults into thinking they have seen BEKs on their front porches.  But, there are always some stories that have elements that kids out having fun can’t explain.  With Black Eyed Kid encounters, one of the biggest for me is their psychic abilities.

Report Black Eyed Kid Encounters!

Have you had and experience with the Black Eyed Children? If so, then we want to hear about it. Click on the link below to report your encounter with the Black Eyed Children and help spread the word about this phenomenon.


This encounter was sent into us by one of the readers of this blog and illustrates the psychic abilities of Black Eyed Kids.  What all else they can do with their minds we may never know!

The black eyed kids came to my door. I was alone in the house, playing guitar when this long knock came to the door. I could see thru the curtain on the door that it was kids, and living in a neighborhood with several families with kids this was nothing out of the ordinary. Yet before I even opened the door I began to feel very wary. I opened it to find two boys, around 10-12, standing on my porch. The Taller boy had knocked, the smaller had been straddling a bike. I found this odd that he was on my porch on his bike. He would have had to carry it up my front steps, and instead of standing beside it, was sitting on it.
At first they kept their heads down, and I asked Hi can I help you? They said they just needed to come in for a minute and it wouldn’t take long. I asked if they were from the neighborhood, and they didn’t answer. It was about this time that I realized something wasn’t right. Much went on before I finally finished my experience with these kids. But I can tell you that doubt, yes, they are real. They are evil by nature and that you do not want them around you, near you or able to touch you.
I still have nightmares, and an awful sense of dread thinking about them and wondering why I had been chosen. My honest belief is that they are demonic. Perhaps a human/Nephilim crossbreed. The entire eye is black, not just the pupil,cornea. Their skin looks white like the belly of a fish.And they smell of sulfur and dirt or death.
They are telepathic as during my encounter I had thought ”Jesus whats happening here?”” And the taller boy looked at me with those black eyes and said,’ you know he isn’t real don’t you’? I believe the reason their are no stories of what happens when people let them into their homes is because those people are no longer here. I also feel that The Loud BOOMS heard globally are connected to these beings arrival and departure. I wont go into any more detail simply because it freaks me out knowing this happened to me and I live wondering if I’m being stalked. Will I be here tomorrow or a prisoner trapped in their dimension tortured for a thousand years or fed on.God only knows and I pray daily for his protection. Its terrifying living day after day with this. If you encounter them, do not open the door – and pray.
God Bless.

That accursed ability to respond to human’s unspoken words is just one piece of evidence to prove that BEKs aren’t just human kids out for kicks.  Other stories seem to indicate that they have the ability to mentally dominate people into doing things, such as open the door for them.

Black Eyed Kids are VERY real and while we have no evidence to prove their intentions, the immense sense of instinctive, dread and fear they inspire in everyone they meet does not point to them having good intentions.

Pass this story along, bookmark it and post it to Facebook

The more people that know about BEKs, the more reports will get in, and the more we will find out about them.  Most people that encounter Black Eyed Kids think they are alone in encountering them.  If we can get the word out to everyone, then they won’t feel so isolated and we will also get more clues in the BEK puzzle!

Black Eyed Adult in Texas

Black Eyed Kids are One Thing, but Black Eyed Adults?

Report Black Eyed Kid Encounters!

Have you had and experience with the Black Eyed Children?  If so, then we want to hear about it.  Click on the link below to report your encounter with the Black Eyed Children and help spread the word about this phenomenon.


There are more and more accounts of Black Eyed Kids surfacing, but along with them are accounts with Black Eyed Adults.  This seems to be a similar phenomenon as can be seen in this report from Lucas, Texas.  This story comes off the web, so I can’t verify the authenticity, but it does sound decidedly like a typical encounter with a black eyed entity.

The early July sun beat on 19-year-old Dallas Adams as he pumped gas into his car at a convenience store in Lucas, Texas.
A man and his son stood at the pump opposite Adams, a woman at her car was behind him. When the gas nozzle clicked Adams placed it back onto the pump and went inside the store. Things were different when he came out.“There was no line in the gas station,” Adams said. “I bought cigarettes and walked out but when I came out my car was the only one there. I had only been in the gas station for maybe two and a half minutes. As soon as I noticed everyone was gone I felt scared but couldn’t figure out why.”
Then he saw the man standing by his car. As Adams walked by him, he noticed a smell, like the man hadn’t showered in weeks.
“He looked like an average guy but when I looked at him I felt scared like my life was about to end,” Adams said. “I went to my car and looked at him – he was staring at me.”
The man came closer to Adams as he stood at the driver’s side door, walking in long steps.
“I need a ride,” the man said, the force in his voice striking Adams like something physical.
“It scared me to death,” Adams said. “I said, ‘what?’ And he said, ‘give me a ride.”
Then Adams saw what frightened him.
“His eyes were completely black. No whites, no nothing, just black,” Adams said. “When I was talking to this thing I could smell its breath, which was horrible.”
Adams worked up the courage to ask where the Black-Eyed Man wanted to go. The man simply replied, “just give me a ride.”
“I said, ‘I’m sorry, I can’t,’ then he took a few steps toward me,” Adams said. “His walk was kinda odd, but stopped as this conversation was happening.”
But what terrified Adams was the man’s eyes.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off of his,” Adams said. “It was like they were sucking me in.”
As Adams stood, watching the strange man with the black eyes approach him, something broke whatever held Adams’ gaze. Adams hopped into his car and sped away.
What did Adams’ see?
“This is really troubling me cause I’ve had dreams about this man every night since the day it happened,” Adams said. “
Black-Eyed People have been in the popular culture since two approached journalist Brian Bethel as he sat in his car in 1998. The encounters are usually the same. Black-Eyed People are usually children to young adults who use language and assertiveness that would seem to be beyond their means. But the most common thread is their eyes; black, without iris or whites, and dead like a Hollywood vampire’s.

Black Eyed Kids Encounter in Wyoming

Black Eyed Kids Harass New Homeowner

Report Black Eyed Kid Encounters!

Have you had and experience with the Black Eyed Children? If so, then we want to hear about it. Click on the link below to report your encounter with the Black Eyed Children and help spread the word about this phenomenon.


The only thing that strikes me as unusual about this story is that the BEKs were not very demanding.  Usually they are very insistent on gaining entry.  Could the fact that she was there with her daughter have thrown them off?  It is possible that they can’t effectively dominate more than  one person at a time and decided it wasn’t worth the work.

Originally published on

I received the following email on Thursday 1/3/2013 in reference to a recent ‘black-eyed children’ encounter:

Mr. Strickler – I was listening to your radio interview with David Weatherly because I am seeking information concerning black-eyed children. I hope it is OK to direct my concerns directly to you.

I am a widow with a teenage daughter in Casper, Wyoming, an area west of the city near the county airport. The property had been in my husband’s family for many years. I recently purchased an adjacent home and property after the owner passed away. This is where the story actually begins.

I settled on the new property just after Thanksgiving. Since it was purchased ‘as is’ it was fairly inexpensive but requires a lot of work. I hired an auction house to come in and remove the contents for future sale. The auction was scheduled for next week, but there have been a few odd things going when the items were first listed for sale.

I received a phone call from the auctioneer a few weeks ago. He wanted to know if I had any knowledge concerning the contents from the house. I told him that I didn’t know the owner that well but that I did know that he had lived on the property since the 1950s. The auctioneer said that a young woman came into the auction house and told him that the property and contents were stolen and that it belonged to her family in North Dakota. She didn’t give her name but assured him that she had documentation to prove her assertions and that she planned to take legal action if the sale continued. I contacted my attorney and the realtor who verified that the property sale was legal and that there were no prior claims to it.

The young woman, who was described as ‘very plain, thin with long black hair’, has not been heard from since. It was decided that the auction would continue as scheduled.

Then this past Tuesday, New Years Day around noon, someone rang the doorbell. I was in the kitchen and I knew my daughter would answer the door. I heard the door open and the voice of a young girl. My daughter soon yelled loudly ‘Mom, come here’. As I walked down the hallway toward the door I noticed 3 girls standing on the porch. They stood without movement staring directly at me. As I approached, I was shocked when I soon noticed that their eyes were completely black in color. I asked if I could help them. The tallest girl asked if they could come in to talk about the house and property I had recently purchased.

I immediately replied that we were busy and that I would give them the phone number to my attorney if they had any inquiries. They just turned and walked away without saying anything else. Each of the girls had blonde hair and wore heavy winter clothing with boots. They seemed to be in their early teens. I watched as they walked toward the highway and eventually lost sight of them.

Since then we have not been contacted by anyone concerning the property. The auction has been postponed for other reasons and has not been rescheduled. My attorney continues to research the property records for any other information.

I supposed the most important question is – who are these children? Do I need to be concerned? I look forward to your comments. SA

NOTE: I contacted SA by telephone and plan to followup with her. Honestly, there isn’t a lot I can tell her…this phenomena has few answers. I have asked her to document any strange activity and to contact me if needed. These incidents have been increasing according to David Weatherly and Jason Offutt who we interviewed recently. You can listen to the podcasts at BTE – Stitcher Radio or BTE PodoMatic. Lon

Brian Bethel – The Black Eyed Kids

The Start of the Black Eyed Kid Phenomenon

Report Black Eyed Kid Encounters!

Have you had and experience with the Black Eyed Children? If so, then we want to hear about it. Click on the link below to report your encounter with the Black Eyed Children and help spread the word about this phenomenon.


As far as my research has gone, the report of Black Eyed Children really start with this fairly famous report by writer Brian Bethel back in 1998.  Since then the number of stories of run ins with black eyed children have steadily increased.  Is this because it is just and urban legend and the story is growing, or is their an evil presence on our planet preying on us?

In any event, here is a reprint of Brian Bethel’s original post about Black Eyed Kids:

Evil Kids
Date: Fri, 16 Jan 1998 19:12:25 -0800 (PST)
From: “Brian Bethel” (
Subject: Those Darned Black-Eyed Kids


Well, believe it or not, the Ram Page follow-up still languishes unfinished on my hard drive. I don’t know when I’ll have it done, and I’ll probably have to break it up into multiple posts to get it in any way manageable. Patience, I pray.

But since a lot of people seem to be requesting this one, here’s some info on those darned black-eyed kids.

I’ve just woken up from a mega nap. It’s 1 a.m. I’ll never get to sleep again. So why not write, eh? I guess I was exhausted from too many forays onto Sixth Street in Austin at my reporting conference.

Enjoy. Or whatever. 🙂


I don’t really know what I’d call this story if I was submitting it for publication in Fate or something of its ilk. “Brian vs. the Evil, Black-eyed, Possibly Vampiric or Demonic But At Least Not Bloody Normal Kids” doesn’t have much of a ring to it. (Shrug.) 🙂

But that’s at least an accurate title.

As so many things do, it all started out innocently.

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.

I’ve explained this before, but for the benefit of any new lurkers out there, right before I experience something strange, there’s a change in perception that comes about which I describe in the above manner. It’s basically enough time to know it’s too late. 😉

So, there I was, filling out a check in my car (which was still running) and in a sudden panic over the appearance of two little boys. I was confused, but an overwhelming sense of fear and unearthliness rushed in nonetheless.

The spokesman smiled, and the sight for some inexplicable reason chilled my blood. I could feel fight-or-flight responses kicking in. Something, I knew instinctually, was not right, but I didn’t know what it could possibly be.

I rolled down the window very, very slightly and asked “Yes?”

The spokesman smiled again, broader this time. His teeth were very, very white.

“Hey, mister, what’s up? We have a problem,” he said. His voice was that of a young man, but his diction, quiet calm and … something I still couldn’t put my finger on … made my desire to flee even greater. “You see, my friend and I want to see the films, but we forgot our money,” he continued. “We need to go to our house to get it. Want to help us out?”

Okay. Journalists are required to talk to lots of people, and that includes children. I’ve seen and spoken to lots of them. Here’s how that usually goes:

“Uh … M … M … Mister? Can I see that camera? I … I won’t break it or anything. I promise. My dad has a camera, and he lets me hold it sometimes, I guess, and I took a picture of my dog — it wasn’s very good, ’cause I got my finger in the way and …”

Add in some feet shuffling and/or body swaying and you’ve got a typical kid talking to a stranger.

In short, they’re usually apologetic. People generally teach children that when they talk to adults, they’re usually bothering them for one reason or another and they should at least be polite.

This kid was in no way fitting the mold. His command of language was incredible and he showed no signs of fear. He spoke as if my help was a foregone conclusion. When he grinned, it was as if he was trying to say, “I know something … and you’re NOT gonna like it. But the only way you’re going to find out what it is will be to do what I say …”

“Uh, well …” was the best reply I could offer.

Now here’s where it starts to get strange.

The quiet companion looked at the spokesman with a mixture of confusion and guilt on his face. He seemed in some ways shocked, not with his friend’s brusque manner but that I didn’t just immediately open the door.

He eyed me nervously.

The spokesman seemed a bit perturbed, too. I still was registering something wrong with both.

“C’mon, mister,” the spokesman said again, smooth as silk. Car salesmen could learn something from this kid. “Now, we just want to go to our house. And we’re just two little boys.”

That really scared me. Something in the tone and diction again sent off alarm bells. My mind was frantically trying to process what it was perceiving about the two figures that was “wrong.”

“Eh. Um ….” was all I could manage. I felt myself digging my fingernails into the steering wheel.

“What movie were you going to see?” I asked finally.

“Mortal Kombat, of course,” the spokesman said. The silent one nodded in affirmation, standing a few paces behind.

“Oh,” I said. I stole a quick glance at the marquee and at the clock in my car. Mortal Kombat had been playing for an hour, the last showing of the evening.

The silent one looked increasingly nervous. I think he saw my glances and suspected that I might be detecting something was not above-board.

“C’mon, mister. Let us in. We can’t get in your car until you do, you know,” the spokesman said soothingly. “Just let us in, and we’ll be gone before you know it. We’ll go to our mother’s house.”

We locked eyes.

To my horror, I realized my hand had strayed toward the door lock (which was engaged) and was in the process of opening it. I pulled it away, probably a bit too violently. But it did force me to look away from the children.

I turned back. “Er … Um …,” I offered weakly and then my mind snapped into sharp focus.

For the first time, I noticed their eyes.

They were coal black. No pupil. No iris. Just two staring orbs reflecting the red and white light of the marquee.

At that point, I know my expression betrayed me. The silent one had a look of horror on his face in a combination that seemed to indicate: A) The impossible had just happened and B) “We’ve been found out!”

The spokesman, on the other hand, wore a mask of anger. His eyes glittered brightly in the half-light.

“Cmon, mister,” he said. “We won’t hurt you. You have to LET US IN. We don’t have a gun …”

That last statement scared the living hell out of me, because at that point by his tone he was plainly saying, “We don’t NEED a gun.”

He noticed my hand shooting down toward the gear shift. The spokesman’s final words contained an anger that was complete and whole, and yet contained in some respects a tone of panic:


I ripped the car into reverse (thank goodness no one was coming up behind me) and tore out of the parking lot. I noticed the boys in my peripheral vision, and I stole a quick glance back.

They were gone. The sidewalk by the theater was deserted.

I drove home in a heightened state of panic. Had anyone attempted to stop me, I would have run on through and faced the consequences later.

I bolted into my house, scanning all around — including the sky.

What did I see? Maybe nothing more than some kids looking for a ride.

And some really funky contacts. Yeah, right.

A friend suggested they were vampires, what with the old “let us in” bit and my compelled response to open the door. That and the “we’ll go see our mother” thing.

I’m still not sure what they were, but here’s an epilogue I find chilling:

I talk about Chad a lot. He’s still my best friend, my best ghost-hunting companion and an all-around cool guy. He recently moved to Amarillo, but at the time this happened was still living in San Angelo of Ram Page fame.

I called him and talked to him briefly. He had two female friends with him at the time, both professing some type of psychic ability.

I started telling him the story, leaving out the part about the black eyes for the kicker. One of the women (we were on a speakerphone) stopped me.

“These children had black eyes, right?” she asked. “I mean, all-black eyes?”

“Er … Yes.” I said. I was a bit taken aback.

“Hmmm,” she said. “One night last week, I had a dream about children with black eyes. They were outside my house, wanting to be let in, but there was something wrong with them. It took me a while to realize it was the eyes.”

I hadn’t even gotten as far as them wanting to come in.

“What did you do?” I asked.

“I kept the doors and windows locked,” she said. “I knew if they came in, they would kill me.”

She paused.

“And they would have killed you, too, if you had let them into your car.”

So, from this extra-long post, we have three unanswered questions:

A) What did I see?

B) What would have happened if I opened my car door?

C) Why does Chad always get the cool psychic chicks? 😉


Well, there you have it. I’ll write some more later. But for now, your comments are welcomed as always.