One Strange Kid
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, June 22, I was sitting at home.
Both of them were at work, and I found myself bored out of my mind at around 3:00 p.m.
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. 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 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 asking:
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 politely 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 normal 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?doesn't I'm a veteran. I'm not easily intimidated, and this is just a child.
The kide said that he couldn't find them, and asked if I could drive him 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, I did.
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, f**k, he doesn't even have irises, it's just black.
Not like he's blind, where the pupils are milky, just fucking stark black 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 f**k, 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 p.m.
I was no more than 5 miles away from that tobacco shop, but it took me almost 2½ 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 2 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 f**ked 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.
2 God Damn kid sized hand prints on the driver side door, and 2 on the windshield.
Greasy, nasty f**kin' 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 if that little f**ker 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 f**ked with.
The drive home was unnerving.
As soon as I pulled out of the parking garage the sky just dropped.
F**king 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, and he 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 this 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.
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 mode of operating is standard for black eyed kids.
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.