Black Eyed Children Horror Tale

Table of Contents

Terrifying Encounter With Abyss Children

The night Elise Winslow encountered the Black Eyed Children was the night the world she understood fractured forever. She was a 20-year-old college student at Crestwood University—bright, curious, always rational. Her friends called her “the skeptic” because she believed every horror story had a logical explanation. Ghost sightings? Trick of the light. Demonic whispers? Faulty pipes. Urban legends? Collective imagination.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared her for what she would face on a cold October evening when she decided to stay on campus late to finish her psychology project. She hadn’t intended to work until after midnight, yet time slipped past her like shadows creeping under a locked door.

The library closed at 11:30 PM, forcing her to gather her notes and laptop and head toward the back exit near the deserted parking lot. The wind outside carried the scent of damp earth and dying leaves. Streetlamps flickered as though barely clinging to life.

She hugged her backpack strap and whispered, “Just get to the car, Elise. It’s fine. You’ve walked this way a hundred times.”

The asphalt glistened with thin layers of moisture that reflected the orange streetlight glows. Every sound felt amplified—the crunch of gravel beneath her boots, the whistle of the wind, the rustle of trees.

Then she heard it.

Knocking.

Not from a door. Not from a building.

From behind her car.

Elise froze. Her keys hovered mid-air.

She swallowed. “Hello? Is someone there?”

Silence answered her.

She moved closer, heart pounding. As she rounded the corner of her car, she saw them.

Two children—perhaps ten or eleven years old—stood side by side. A boy and a girl. Both wearing outdated clothing: faded jackets, mud-stained jeans, and shoes that looked decades old. Their skin was impossibly pale, almost translucent, as if moonlight lived beneath it.

And their eyes—God, their eyes—were solid black. No whites. No pupils. Bottomless voids.

Elise stumbled back, choking on her breath.

The girl spoke first, her voice soft and even. “We need help.”

The boy nodded. “Please. Let us inside your car.”

Elise shook her head, trembling. “W-What are you doing out here? Are you lost? Where are your parents?” She recalled stories like The Twisted Love of a Ghost Mother, and the thought made her chest tighten.

The children didn’t blink. They didn’t move. They simply stared at her with those void-like eyes as though they could reach inside her mind.

“We need a ride,” the girl said. “It’s cold. We can’t walk. Please let us in.”

“Please,” the boy echoed.

Their voices were flat. Devoid of emotion. Wrong.

Elise whispered, “I’m sorry, I can’t help you. I’ll call campus security. They can—”

“No.” The girl took a step toward her. “You must let us in.”

Every instinct screamed at Elise to run. But her legs felt locked in place.

The boy tilted his head. “We’re not dangerous.”

That made her shiver even more.

Elise backed away slowly. “I’m leaving. Please stay here. Someone will help you.”

She unlocked her car with shaking hands, opened the door, and scrambled inside. As soon as she locked the doors, the knocking began again—harder this time, rapid and rhythmic.

“Let us in, Elise.”

Her blood ran cold.

“How… how do you know my name?”

The knocking stopped.

The girl leaned close to the window, her face inches away. Her black eyes glistened like tar.

“We’ve seen you,” she whispered. “We’ve watched you.”

Elise’s breath hitched. She turned the key—once, twice—but the engine only sputtered.

“No, no, no—please start!”

The children stepped back, watching her with eerie stillness. Elise kept trying the engine until finally, on the fourth attempt, it roared to life. Tires screeched as she sped out of the lot, her hands trembling around the steering wheel.

But in her rear-view mirror, she saw them.

The children hadn’t moved. They stood exactly where she left them, silhouettes against the flickering lamplight, just watching. Their heads turned slowly as her car drove away, following her movement perfectly, impossibly.

That night was only the beginning.

Elise couldn’t sleep. She kept replaying the scene, the voices, the eyes. She tried rationalizing it: maybe they were wearing contacts; maybe it was a prank. But something deep within her whispered the truth: those weren’t normal children.

When dawn arrived, she forced herself to attend her morning classes, though exhaustion pulled at her bones. After her second lecture, her friend Nora approached.

“You look like crap, Elise. What happened?”

Elise hesitated. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“Try me.”

So Elise told her everything—from the knocking to the black eyes to the way they spoke her name.

Nora frowned. “Black Eyed Children? Isn’t that some creepy internet legend?”

“I don’t know. But I saw them. And they weren’t human. I felt it.”

Nora crossed her arms. “Look, let’s go back tonight. Together. We’ll bring flashlights. Maybe there’s some logical explanation. Maybe—”

“No.” Elise shook her head violently. “I’m not going back there.”

But Nora was stubborn. “We need to know what you saw. If something is happening around campus, we should report it.”

Reluctantly, Elise agreed.

That night, the air was colder, heavier. They walked across the empty parking lot with only Nora’s flashlight to cut through the darkness. Elise’s heart hammered in her chest.

“I don’t see anything,” Nora said. “Maybe they left.”

Elise hoped so.

Then the flashlight flickered.

And the knocking began again.

But this time, it wasn’t behind a car.

It came from behind them.

Nora slowly turned. “What the—”

The children stood there, blocking the path. Same clothing. Same pale skin. Same dead black eyes.

Elise grabbed Nora’s arm. “Don’t talk to them.”

The girl stepped forward. “You came back.”

The boy added, “We knew you would.”

Nora raised her flashlight. “What do you want?”

The girl smiled—a slow, unnatural stretch of lips that didn’t match the movement of her face.

“We want to come with you.”

Nora scoffed. “No chance. Stay away.”

The children tilted their heads in perfect unison. “It’s rude to refuse us.”

Elise felt a pressure building in her skull, like invisible hands squeezing her mind. She stumbled, clutching her temples.

“Elise?” Nora asked. “What’s wrong?”

The girl whispered, “Let us in.”

Pain exploded behind Elise’s eyes. She screamed.

The world blurred.

Darkness swallowed everything.

When Elise opened her eyes again, she was lying on the ground. Nora hovered over her, shaking her shoulders.

“Thank God—you’re awake! Elise, we need to go. Now!”

Elise sat up, dizzy. “Where… where are they?”

Nora pointed toward the far end of the parking lot. The children were there—standing motionless again, watching.

“No more,” Elise whispered. “I can’t take this anymore.”

But the encounters didn’t stop.

Over the next week, Elise felt the children everywhere. She saw them across the street while walking to class. She saw them standing in the hallway outside her dorm at 3 AM. She saw them in reflections—in windows, in mirrors, even in her computer screen when it dimmed, reminding her of stories like The Empty Swing: Childhood Memories, Deadly Secrets that spoke of haunting memories returning to life.

Always silent.

Always watching.

One night, while studying alone, she heard soft knocking at her dorm door.

She froze.

The knocking grew louder.

“Elise,” the girl’s voice whispered from the other side. “Let us in.”

Elise backed away, trembling. “Go away!”

“We can’t leave,” the boy said.

Elise grabbed her phone with shaking hands and called Nora.

“Please come over,” she cried. “They’re here.”

Nora arrived within minutes. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty.

“Elise… there’s no one here.”

Elise’s voice cracked. “They were just outside. I heard them.”

Nora held her shoulders. “You’re exhausted. You’re traumatized. You’re seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe you need help—”

“NO!” Elise shouted. “They’re real—don’t you understand? They’re following me!”

Nora hesitated. “Okay. Then let’s find out what they want.”

“What if they want something terrible?”

“Then we’ll face it together.”

But nothing could prepare them for what happened next.

At 2:47 AM, Elise awoke to silence—too perfect, too heavy. She sat up slowly.

Nora, who had fallen asleep on a beanbag, was gone.

Elise’s stomach dropped. “Nora?”

The dorm door was cracked open.

A soft whisper echoed down the hallway.

“Come find us.”

Elise stepped into the hall, heart hammering. The overhead lights flickered, casting long shadows. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Nora’s voice—weak, trembling.

“Elise… help…”

Elise ran.

She reached the stairwell, breath ragged. The door creaked open by itself.

As she descended, she heard soft footsteps behind her—small, childlike.

When she reached the ground floor, she saw Nora standing in the center of the lobby, unmoving.

“Nora!” Elise ran to her. “Are you okay?”

But Nora didn’t blink. Didn’t respond. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

Elise grabbed her arm. “Nora, snap out of it!”

Then the children stepped out from behind Nora—one on each side.

The girl said, “You should have let us in.”

The boy added, “Now she belongs to the quiet.”

Elise screamed. “Let her go!”

The girl smiled, cold and wide. “Let us in, Elise. Let us in and we’ll release her.”

The boy tilted his head. “You owe us.”

Elise shook, tears streaming down her face. “What are you?”

The children spoke in unison. “We are the abyss. And you looked too long.”

They reached out their hands.

Elise stumbled backward—but Nora suddenly blinked and gasped, collapsing to the floor.

The children glanced at her, confused, as if something had interrupted them.

Nora screamed, “RUN!”

And they did.

They fled the dorm, sprinted across campus, and didn’t stop until they reached the security building. When they burst inside, sobbing and breathless, the officers looked at them with alarm.

But when the officers searched the campus, the children were gone. Every camera showed nothing but static during the exact minutes Elise and Nora claimed the children appeared.

Days passed. Elise and Nora transferred to another dorm. Their professors noted their pale faces and jumpy behavior. But the children never appeared again.

Not physically, anyway.

On Elise’s final day at Crestwood University, she received an envelope under her door. Inside was a small note written in a childish scrawl:

“You looked into our eyes. So we will always see you.”

That night, as she drove away from campus, Elise caught sight of two small silhouettes in her rear-view mirror.

Watching.

Waiting.

As the world grew darker around her, she realized the truth:

You can run from the Black Eyed Children.

But the abyss always follows.