Threatening Black-Eyed Kid Stalks Homeowner

19 August 2016 | Black Eyed Kids, Your Stories

Here is another creepy black-eyed kid story submitted recently. In this one, the homeowner experiences a threatening situation….

The incident took place about seven, or eight years ago. I have been reading many of the accounts on your website and wanted to share my story. It was a little different to the average account I have read, and may be useful for someone. I had just moved to Las Vegas with my wife of twenty-years. We were small town folk from the Midwest. We moved cross country Being naive and new to city living, I habitually answered the door without a second thought. I had never even heard of a Black-Eyed Kid until this incident.

The first thing that should have tipped me off to the strangeness of this situation was the fact that someone was knocking at 4.30am. The second thing that should have dawned on me is this kid had to reach over a rather tall patio gate to unlatch and open it—which I tried to do later and couldn’t manage. I’m not sure how he managed to get into my yard.

The knock at the door was startling. My wife and I were getting ready for work, a pretty normal routine. The moment I opened the door, I was overtaken with an inexplicable sense of fear. Literally I went from being relaxed to shaking like a leaf. To this day, I can picture him. Teenager, around five foot, average build, knee length black leather coat, short black hair and sunglasses. Eating an apple standing on the other side of my door.

He was very polite and asked if he could come in and warm up.

I said, No, closed the door and slid the security chain in to place.

A moment later, another knock.

I opened the now chained door, and before I could speak he asked again if he could come in and warm up.

I said no again and attempted to close the door. Before the door could shut, he put his hand out stopping the door on its hinges.

He looked directly in to my eyes, still wearing his sunglasses, and said,

“Can I at least get some ketchup for my apple?”

“Not a chance,” I replied. “My wife is currently calling the police.”

He smiled and just said. “No! You won’t be calling anybody.”

appleAt that moment I pushed the door closed, locked it, and called out to my wife. She thought I had been talking to myself—she didn’t even hear him talk. I pulled the curtains back to look out the window next to the door. He wasn’t there. There was no trace of him. I go out on the patio and check the gate, it’s still latched from the inside.

My wife didn’t believe me until that evening when she returned home and saw a half-eaten apple on the top step outside of our house. That’s the freakiest bit. The damn half-eaten apple hadn’t been there when I’d checked the yard—yet a few hours later it was sitting on my step waiting for us to return home.

Submitted by Anon.

 

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