Some people claim that this phenomenon is an urban legend. But it doesnt quite fit the definition of an urban legend. The stories of these creepy black eyed kids comes from all over the US not just one place. The stories are very few in number and have just surfaced in the last ten years.
This strange trend was first reported by journalist Brian Bethel on January 16, 1998. According to Bethel, two boys approached him while he was sitting in his parked car. Bethel described the kids in prototypical BEK fashion as stylish, olive skinned kids. The boys asked for a ride home explaining that they were on their way to the movies, but had forgotten their money.
Bethel claimed that he was overwhelmed by a “fight-or-flight” response, but was nevertheless tempted to allow the boys entrance into the vehicle. He resisted the urge, which seemed to only agitate the boys, who grew ever more adamant that they be allowed into the car. It was then that Bethel finally noticed their “coal black” eyes, whereupon he was momentarily paralyzed with fear.
The black-eyed beings seemed to realize that their window of opportunity was closing and their demands reached a fever pitch, at which point Bethel collected himself and promptly exited the scene.
Brian Bethals Report Below:
"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 about10-15 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 any 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: "WE CAN'T COME IN UNLESS YOU TELL US IT'S OKAY. LET ... US .... IN!"
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!
Various Peoples Accounts
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.
What these people may be – aliens, demons, practical jokers – is a matter of debate. However, the reports continue. Like this report from Omaha, Neb.
A little girl, about five years old, brown hair in a ponytail ran around the play area at the Westroads Mall, but Debbie Rife knew something was wrong with the child.
“I saw her eyes and just thought something was weird, different, off about her, so every time she ran past my way I tried to figure out what it was,” Rife said. “Then I realized that there was little to no difference in the shading between her pupil and iris. So of course I kept staring, only not trying to be obvious about staring.”
If there was any white to the girl’s eyes, Rife said it wasn’t noticeable.
And the odd little girl kept following Rife’s seven-year-old son.
“I was waiting for something weird, spooky or crazy to happen like a scene from ‘Carrie’, but really nothing happened,” Rife said. “She followed (her son) around for a little bit and kept saying, ‘Hi, hi, hi,’ and something about she wanted to marry (him). He said she was funny, but also creepy.”
Then there was the screaming girl.
“I didn't hear anyone else notice the child,” Rife said. “The only thing I did notice was that another little girl kept going up to her and doing this scream thing. She did that to her a couple of times until her mom came and told her to stop that and then she didn't bother the (Black-Eyed Kid) again.”
Online poster Thaisa, saw a Black-Eyed Person on a train in early May – and the horror haunts her.
“I have seen one of them and now wherever I go I don’t look into people eyes,” Thaisa said. “You can see something strange, sense something different. I did not feel scared until I saw this person’s big, entirely black eyes, no white inside it.”
As Thaisa watched, this man, who fidgeted on the commuter train, moving nervously from seat to seat, locked eyes with her, and his eyes changed to black within seconds.
“I turned my head immediately from fear,” Thaisa said. “I tried to rationalize this event. I thought I might have had a hallucination in the middle of the day.”
She looked at the man again and he still glared at her. Big, entirely black eyes stared into hers, and a fear like sleep paralysis gripped her.
“This person was sitting just opposite me in the train and was observing me for 35 minutes,” Thaisa said. “Clearly it wanted to make contact but I did not respond.”
The man eventually reached his stop and Thaisa felt like she snapped out of a spell.
“When he left the train I felt such a relief,” she said. “I felt like the biggest disaster was behind me. I was shaking for a couple hours after.”