Black Eyed Kid Story: This happened in 2016, not long after I moved into my place in Radford, Virginia. At the end of my street sits a small park, the kind you barely notice in daylight and try not to look at after dark. I was pulling in from a long work trip at about 2:30 in the morning, that hour when the world feels like it’s holding its breath.
As I turned onto my road, my headlights swept across the picnic table by the entrance of the park. Someone was sitting there. A teenager, maybe. Jeans, hoodie pulled low over his face, elbows on his knees, head hanging as if the night itself weighed on him. It struck me as strange enough to make me slow down.
He lifted his head toward me.
Then he stood and started walking toward the road. Not running, but moving with this quick, unnatural purpose. By the time I reached the stop sign, he was already at my passenger-side door. I caught just a flash of his face through the window. What I saw made my stomach drop. His eyes looked solid black. No reflection, no white, just pits of dark.
I didn’t know a thing about black-eyed kids back then. All I thought was that this kid was about to try my door handle, so I floored it. I figured that would be the end of it. My house is about a quarter mile down the road, and I pulled in, shut everything off, and hauled my bags inside. I locked the door behind me, jumped in the shower, and honestly, the whole moment at the park started to blur into exhaustion.
Then the doorbell rang.
The sound cut through the house like a blade. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. Was it the same kid from the park? Before I could think, someone started knocking. Hard. My dog didn’t bark, which scared me more than the knocking. He always barks.
I scrambled out of the shower, pulled on clothes, and that’s when the pounding started at the back door. Nobody should have been back there. The yard is fenced and locked. That was the moment I grabbed a gun.
I checked the back door. Nothing. My dog had retreated to his crate, lying there silently with his eyes wide, tracking me like he wanted no part of whatever was outside.
I grabbed my spotlight, opened the back door, and swept the yard. Empty. I checked up the street. Nothing. Whoever had been there vanished without a sound.
I never saw anyone like that again.
And I still don’t know how they reached my house so fast, or why my dog went silent.
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