After Brian's story about his encounter with the Black-Eyed Children went viral, it caused an uproar online. People quickly gave a name to these mysterious entities—Black-Eyed Children—and thousands of internet users began sharing their own chilling encounters. The forums overflowed with stories of personal experiences, each more unsettling than the last. Here's one such account from another person who claimed to have encountered these strange beings.
The story happened one October evening. I was at home, playing games on my computer. After a while, I got hungry and decided to go to the nearby convenience store to grab a cup of instant noodles. It was close to Halloween, so the neighborhood was lively with festive decorations, and kids were out playing in costumes and pretending to be ghosts. On my way to the store, I passed by a house where I noticed two boys, around 14 years old, standing outside and knocking on the door. They were asking the homeowner if they could come in to use the phone.
At first, I found this odd. These days, nearly every teenager has a cellphone. Why would they need to borrow someone else's? As I walked past, the boys suddenly stopped knocking and turned to stare at me. Their gaze froze me in place. Their eyes were pitch black—no whites, no irises, just deep, empty voids. There was no emotion in their eyes, only something cold and sinister, a calculated malice. It felt as if my blood turned to ice, and I instinctively hurried my pace, looking straight ahead and avoiding their gaze.
As I walked down the next street, I thought I had escaped. But then, I felt an inexplicable chill down my spine, as if something or someone was watching me. I glanced over my shoulder and froze in terror. The two boys were following me. I had no idea how or when they started, but there they were, just a short distance behind, their empty black eyes fixed on me.
Panic overtook me, and I abandoned any pretense of calm. I sprinted toward the convenience store at the end of the block. Bursting through the door, I ran straight to the cashier and breathlessly recounted my encounter. The cashier listened attentively, his expression grim but not shocked. He didn't question the validity of my story, which only added to my unease. Instead, he nodded and said he'd had a similar experience back in his hometown. He explained how they followed him, no matter how fast or far he ran, and how they seemed impossible to evade. His voice betrayed the fear he was trying to suppress.
Before he could finish sharing his story, I noticed something through the glass doors. The two boys—those creatures—had followed me to the store. They were now standing just outside, staring directly at us. They spoke in voices far too deep and commanding for children, demanding to be let in. The cashier and I screamed in unison, and he rushed to lock the door.
For the next hour, the Black-Eyed Children didn't move. They just stood there, watching us with their unblinking, malevolent eyes. No one else came into the store during this time—not a single customer passed by. It was as though the world outside had frozen, leaving only the two of us trapped with those terrifying figures just a few feet away.
As our fear and patience wore thin, the cashier suggested we try escaping through the back door. We carefully crept into the alley behind the store. As the cashier locked the door behind us, one of the Black-Eyed Boys appeared at the other end of the alley. He was suddenly just there, blocking our path. "Can you help me?" he asked, but his tone was no longer pleading—it was demanding, even threatening.
I'll never forget the way he stared at me. Those black eyes felt like bottomless pits, filled with a darkness that words can't capture. The fear was overwhelming. My mind went blank, and I felt like I was being pulled into some kind of hypnotic trance. I couldn't move, couldn't think. My vision blurred, and I was completely paralyzed.
I don't know how long I stood there, but the cashier's panicked shouts snapped me back to reality. When I regained my senses, I saw the cashier struggling between the two boys, who had pinned him down. He yelled for help, and I rushed forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him free. Together, we ran out of the alley and onto the streets, sprinting as fast as we could.
At an intersection, we split up in hopes of confusing our pursuers. Unfortunately, the boys decided to follow me instead. I ran home as fast as I could, adrenaline pushing me forward despite my exhaustion. When I finally reached my apartment, I locked all the doors and windows, pulled the curtains tight, and turned the TV's volume up as loud as it would go. I sat in the corner of the room, trembling and waiting for the night to pass. Thankfully, nothing else happened, and I managed to make it through until morning.
The next day, I went back to the convenience store, wanting to thank the cashier for helping me escape. But he wasn't there. When I asked the store owner about him, I learned that he had resigned and moved away without giving a reason. I couldn't blame him—after that experience, I wouldn't want to stay in the area either.
To this day, I still think about those Black-Eyed Children and wonder what might have happened if I hadn't escaped. I don't know what they are or what they want, but I know one thing for sure: if you ever encounter them, never, ever let them in.