Black Eyed Kids Terrorize Hiker In Michigan – BEK Encounter In A Deserted Campground, Here is a Black Eyed Kid Story that I thought you would enjoy. I found this one particularly interesting because most BEK encounters are in urban areas. This time the victim was a lone man camping in an otherwise deserted campground. Makes you wonder if any of Paulideโs Missing 411 cases are due to Black Eyed Kids.
Meeting Black Eyed Kids someplace where you can lock the door is one thing. But out in the woods? That is a whole different story. Aloneโฆ In the darkโฆ With BEKs trying to get you to help them find their supposed camp site? Nooooo thank you!
From David:
my encounter with black eyed kids. Please share. Iโd like to know other peopleโs thoughts. Thank you.
First, a quick intro about myself. Iโm a 26 years old, male. I work at a small private college in Michigan. Iโm a normal, average guy. I like hockey, HBO shows, kayaking, and hiking/camping. I have a girlfriend, love my dad and sister, and have a pet dog named Bear. While I keep an open mind, I donโt believe in ghosts, aliens, big-foot, and am not even too sure about God. The way I see it, if I havenโt encountered it first hand or seen documented, verifiable proof then I keep a healthy amount of skepticism. There is one thing I do believe in now that I never did before, hell I didnโt even know about it before โ black freaking eye kids.
As I said earlier, I love(ed) to hike and camp. For reasons too introspective to get into fully here I just loved the solitude, peace, and serenity the outdoors provided me. My life is not overly stressful, chaotic, or dramatic, but every once in a while a man needs to get away from it all. Being alone in the wilderness gave me the opportunity to clear my head, be introspective, consider the facts of life. I loved the beauty of the natural world, and I try to appreciate the small and big things, from the smallest clover to the biggest mountain. Beauty is all around us. In a way, I think itโs my belief in beauty that has helped me cope as well as I have with what Iโm about to share. In late August of 2010 I set out for Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore located along Lake Michigan. I had schedule five days off of work, and I planned on making the most of it. Sleeping Bear is one of my favorite parks in lower Michigan. I know it to be a great place for some solitude, and having usually been abandoned by sun worshipers by mid August I knew Iโd have most of the park to myself. So, I wasnโt surprised when I arrived the fist day, found my usually parking spot, a sand parking lot just yards from the lake, and didnโt see another person.
As I sat on the hood of my car, overlooking the beach and the lake, I remember breathing deeply and saying aloud โthank God for solitude.โ I ate lunch, walked down the beach and put my bare feet into the water. Cold. Very cold. It didnโt matter to me though, because I didnโt come to swim. I came to hike, and to camp. I came to, as was my tradition, sit by a warm fire on a cool night, sipping on my flask of whiskey, enjoying the sounds of the forest. However, this peaceful tradition didnโt happen. The proper procedure when camping at a state or national park, if youโve never been, is to check in at a ranger station. There you pay your fees, obtain your backcountry pass, if youโre going to be camping in the backcountry as I always do, and give the rangers your information: license plate number, make and model of your car, etc. After my quick stop off at the beach to eat my lunch, I headed to the nearby, a fifteen or so minute drive, and get my affairs in order.
The Platte River Ranger Station is manned until mid October, I think, so it was open and I didnโt have to travel to the main station a ยฝ hours drive north. I park in the stationโs parking lot, and walk into the office. The ranger and I spoke for a little and he asks me for my license plate number. I knew he was going to ask, but I still forgot to write it down before I went in, so I walk back out toward my car, and I see two kids sitting at a bench just in front of where Iโm parked. They werenโt there when I parked, and I didnโt notice them when I walked in to the station, but at this point in time Iโm still on cloud nine. Iโm happy to be on vacation, so I take no real notice. I walk to the back of my car, jot down the license plate number and walk back to office. I take care of business in the office and step out and walk to the connecting bathroom. The backcountry area Iโm staying at, White Pine, has a pit-toilet, think port a john but just with a deep hole in the ground, but Iโd like to use a real bathroom while I can. I go into the restroom and go into the empty stall.
As Iโm taking care of my business, I hear the bathroom door open. I hear whispered voices. Itโs a small bathroom, but I canโt make-out what the voices are saying. I can tell theyโre kidโs voices though, and I figure itโs the kids I saw near my car earlier. No biggie, right? I finish up, and open the stall door. Sure enough, there are the two kids standing outside the stall. I remember saying, โitโs all yours.โ As I walked to the sink. The kids just stood there. When you think about it now, in reading, the situation seems a little spooky, but at the time, and if you were in the situation yourself Iโd bet that you wouldnโt be the slightest bit worried and neither was I. I was my hands, and glance in the mirror, only to notice the kids are looking right at me. This is the first time, but certainly not the last time, on this trip that my spine tingles with fear. The god damn kids have completely black eyes. No whites to their eyes at all. Like I said, this is a pretty small bathroom and they were not more than three feet away. At first I canโt do or say anything. I am literally frozen with fear. The water runs over my hands, but I canโt feel it. Iโm so deep inside my head at this moment that all I can hear are my thoughts, which were something like โAhhhhhh!.โ All joking aside, I was petrified.
It was only when one of the kids, a brown haired boy that I would guess was around twelve took a step toward me that my fight or flight instincts took over control from my fear. I turned off the water, why I bothered I donโt know habit I guess, and moved a step back from the kids and toward the door. Seemingly sensing my fear the boy didnโt take another step toward me. Instead he stopped, on retrospect I can guess he was trying to keep from frightening me too much โ didnโt work kid!
โCan you help us?โ Thatโs what the boy said when one of us finally spoke. For a moment I did want to help.
I consider myself a pretty nice guy. Iโd go out of my way to help pregnant women carry groceries to their car. Iโd rescue cats from trees if the situation arose, and for a while I thought that is why I wanted to help those creepy kids. I thought, my sheer decency was what made me, despite my better judgment, and despite my fear want to help them. Only since I began researching the BEKโs do I realize that I didnโt want to help those kids, but whatever, magical, mystical voo-doo, power they have made me want to help them. I canโt tell you with any certainty how long I stood motionless thinking about helping those kids, but it seemed like an eternity. Finally, like a physical shaking of my brain I said โNo, Not right now. I gotta go.โ And then I left the bathroom.
I remember in that two seconds my back was turned on those kids to me leaving the bathroom I felt certain I was going to die. I thought as soon as my back was turned they were going to tear me to shreds. It was with knee buckling relief that I left the bathroom and walked out into the midday sun. I walked the fifteen or so feet to my car, on noodle like legs, too afraid to look behind me. I fumbled for my keys and unlocked my door, sat down, closed the door and locked it. Only then, in the safety of my locked car, did I feel safe enough to look back toward the bathroom. Damned if the little bastards werenโt standing just outside the bathroom staring at me with the big, black soul sucking eyes.
I want to take moment to explain a little bit more about myself. Iโm not a big man, but Iโm not small either. Iโm six foot, with shoes on I always say, and am around 185 pounds. What Iโm saying is I can take a couple twelve year olds in a fight (I assume, having never actually fought any twelve year olds since I was twelve myself). In my hiking, Iโve encountered odd people before. Iโve turned a bend in a trail only to startle a huge grizzly bear. Iโve been lost, once, and ran out of water, once, and I even had a tree fall in the middle of my campsite during a gale swept night in Tennessee โas I was drifting off to sleep! However, not a single event in my life scared me nearly as much as those kids.
So, there I am, in my car, staring at those kids, and them staring at me. I canโt take my stare away from them, and they start for my car. Startled to my senses, I turn the key, throw it in reverse, and get the hell out of there. I drive off, not daring to look in the rearview mirror. I know that if I do look back that Iโll see those black eyes looking back at me. I turn onto the main road and head the short drive north to my camp site. Yeah, I know what youโre thinking, why the hell are you still camping! To be honest I canโt tell you why. I was just so much in shock that I wasnโt really thinking. It wasnโt until I was parked in the sand lot, at the head of the White Pine trail that my brain started functioning again. The drive home would only take three hours. I could make it home in time for dinner, but for some reason I talked myself out of it. Sitting in my car, in the sun, on the beach has a way of taking away all bad feelings.
I just talked away my better judgment. I wonโt be doing that again. Itโs around three oโclock, and I know that the sun will start to set in around three or four hours, so I know I should head toward my camping spot. Itโs not a very long walk from the parking lot to the White Pine backcountry campground, but it will take around 45 minutes, leaving me just a couple hours to set up camp, gather fire wood, cook dinner and eat before nightfall. Fuck it, I remember saying to myself. I get my pack out of my backseat and take off down the trail.
Now, there are two ways to access the White Pine campground from where I was parked. I could either head through the woods, or I could walk along the beach. The wooded trail is quicker, and shorter, and the beach trail is harder on the legs and lungs (walking with a fifty pound pack in the sand is no picnic). However, considering what I just went through I decided to go along the beach. It was the more open, brighter, kinder trail.
To reach the campsite from the beach trail, you have to turn away from the lake and go about ยฝ a mile into the woods. Reaching my campsite, I find it, unfortunately, completely empty. The campground has seven sites, I think, and not a one of them was taken. Usually this would be a happy thing to me, but this time I wished for all my might for a little company. I pick a site hidden fairly well from the trail, feeling that I didnโt need anyone walking along to spot my tent.
โPlease let us in.โ โNo,โ I screeched, and then again, โno!โ #BEK #Paranormal
I unpack and set up my ultra-light one person tent, put down my sleeping pad, and unroll my zero degree rated mummy-bag. Taking my walking stick, a sawed off hockey stick, and a folding knife with me, I head into the forest to gather fire wood. I pile up a good sized pile, three times larger than I think Iโll need, and proceed to light a fire. I cook my food, and eat, all the while watching the sun set through the trees. What is normally a beautiful, warming sight to me, now only brings dread. I do not want to be out here I suddenly realize. I finish eating quickly and decide to gather even more firewood. I do not want to run out in the middle of the night. As the darkness descends upon the woods and my campsite, I get the fire going, and riffle through my pack looking for my flask. This was a situation that called for a little liquid courage. I hit it hard. In the woods the sun sets at first slower then you think and then near the end it just kind of falls out of the sky, and is gone in a blink. So it did that night.
Sitting next to the fire, I decide to move my tent closer to me, so I click on my flash light, and move my tent until it is right behind the small bench next to the fire ring. I like having the tent behind me, protecting my back as I saw it. Iโm glad I decided to gather more firewood because Iโm burning through it quickly keeping the fire as high as I am. Even though it is early Autumn and the temperature was probably in the 40โs I was hot sitting so close to such a big fire.
Part of getting away from it all for me, is to leave my phone in the car. In civilization I donโt use a watch. I just look at my cell. However, this night I wish I had my cell on me, not to call someone there is no service, but to check the time. I wanted it to be late. I wanted the night to fly by, and give me the security of morning. I finished the whiskey, and wished that I had brought the bottle with me from the car. The spirits had done their job though, and I was a bit calmer. Also, praise be to god, I was feeling sleepy too. Though the rules say, donโt go to bed with your fire burning, I sure as hell was not going to sleep with out the fire. I got in my tent, leaving the flap open, with just the bug flap closed, so I could see the fire, and tried to sleep.
I donโt know how long I lay there before slept found me, but I did eventually drift off. Thankfully, I canโt remember having any dreams. I woke to a dead fire, and the early dusk light coming in. I have to say I was slightly surprised to be alive.
As dawn turned in to day I felt more and more foolish for the fear I felt yesterday. Being a usually calm, cool, and collected guy I couldnโt explain the intense dread and fear I felt when I saw those kids, but I did my best to ignore it, and I explained away their eyes pretty easily. I told myself the kids were camping at the Platte River campground, same location as the ranger station I registered at. They had some colored contact lenses and were playing a joke. Simple. Possible, even probably considering the alternative. I ate breakfast and then made a, upon hindsight, horrible decision. I decided to stay another night.
After breakfast, I gathered firewood, so that I wouldnโt have to gather any when I got back for the evening. My pile of wood at a towering height, I hiked back to my car, along the wooded trail (I was feeling awfully, stupidly brave that morning).
I arrived at my car, and decided to go to the Dune Climb. The Dune Climb is a trail that begins at a towering dune and ends 1 ยฝ miles away at Lake Michigan. This hike was uneventful, but beautiful providing me even more determination not to let myself be scared off by some stupid kids with contact lenses. I got back to my car from the round trip hike right around 1:00. I got out my small camp stove and cooked some soup. Finished with lunch, I decided that next I would take the scenic drive, I forget the name of the road, that is part of the Sleeping Bear Dunes National Lakeshore. Itโs a winding drive with several scenic and educational pull offs. Itโs relaxing and beautiful. I finished with that around 3:00, and I decided I would head to Traverse City, just a 45 minute drive away, and do a little shopping and grab an early dinner at a nice steak house. This is not something I normally do while camping but after the previous nights events, I decided to treat myself.
Traverse City is a nice town to visit, if you ever have the chance (just a recommendation). I went to this steak house just outside of Traverse around 4:30, figuring a quick dinner, an 45 minute drive and an hour walk would get me to my camp at just about dusk. But thatโs not what happened. The restaurant was packed! I got a table fairly quickly but the service was very slow. In the end I didnโt get out of the restaurant until dusk. Cursing myself it began to rain as I drove back to the trail head parking lot. By the time I was at the lot and parked it was full blown nighttime. Sitting in the parking lot, listening to the wind, and the rain I was pretty damn scared again. I think that if nearly all of my gear wasnโt still at the campsite then I would have just drove home and said screw it. However, I couldnโt abandon several hundred dollars worth of camping equipment because I was scared. Iโm not a pussy.
I gear up: flashlight, pocket knife, water bottle, headlamp, and walking stick. Again I had two options, through the woods or along the beach. The storm clouds blocked out most of the star and moon light so I would have been kidding myself to think that the beach would have been better lit, but it was still more open, and provided me with a better feeling, so I took the beach path. The path is only a mile and a half long along the beach and then another ยฝ mile into the woods to the campsite. I figured, if I hustled, I could be at my campsite in just over ยฝ an hour.
I turn on my headlamp and move off down the beach. The wind is hitting pretty hard, and itโ pretty damn cold, but Iโm prepared. My coat has a nice rain shell and Iโm not getting too wet.
Hiking in the dark is not smart in the best of circumstances. In this area there are cougars and bear, both rare, but the real danger is getting lost, or stumbling over something and injuring yourself. However, I wasnโt too worried about any of that. The animals are so rare in that area itโd take very bad luck to get bothered by them, and the beach was clear of most debris that I might trip on. What had me worried was a creeping sensation of paranoia.
As I walked the sensation of paranoia and dread grew. I stopped every ten feet or so to look around, lighting the tall grass, next to the beach and before the woods, with my headlamp. I opened my jaw and listened, you can hear better with your mouth slightly open, but I saw nothing and heard nothing. Iโd walk another ten feet and just know that someone was watching me. It was hard to hear anything over the lapping waves of the lake and the howling wind of the storm, but I swear I heard voices in the tall grass.
Iโd been walking probably 1/2 an hour and I new I would be meeting off with the trail leading into the woods, and to my campsite any second now, but then my world fell apart. Having one of my strongest moments of feeling watched I turned around, facing the direction I came, and there they were.
The boy who spoke to me earlier couldnโt have been more than five feet away, and the other boy, the quiet boy, was standing slightly behind him. Each of the boys stood motionless. Staring. Just staring. At this moment, Iโm not sure I have the ability to put my terror into words. The best way I can describe it is to say I felt like I was dying. I felt like I was in the hospital and the doctor just told me I had moments to live. The talkative boy moved toward me.
The only light on the beach came from my headlamp. Neither kid had any sort of flashlight. My led beam flashed across their faces, reflecting grotesquely in their large dark eyes. The waves crashed, and the wind blew.
โHelp us.โ
I couldnโt speak. I couldnโt move. I could barely breathe. The boy moved closer. The quiet boy stepped to the side, almost like he was slowly circling behind me, and that broke the spell.
โIโm not fucking helping you,โ I said.
โWeโre lost. We canโt find our campsite.โ
โIs this a game,โ I asked, even though I knew it wasnโt.
โTake us with you. Please. Weโll die out here. Weโre afraid. โ
I call bull-shit on that one. Theyโre scared, I thought to myself? Iโm scared. Youโre the one with the creepy eyes, the vacant hollow voices. Youโre the ones with the fish-eye stare.
The quiet boy moved a little more. He was now standing beside me, just a couple feet away. The talkative boy was still in front of me, blocking the way I had come, blocking the path back to my car. Then things got even weirder.
โOkay, you can come with me,โ I said.
I donโt even remember thinking the words. They just came out. The talkative boy smiled and he reached to take my hand. The fight or flight response hit me so hard it was like a physical punch to the stomach. I recoiled at the sight of this little monster trying to take my hand. Before I even realize it, Iโm running down the beach. Iโm sprinting away from the little bastards, and my car as fast as I can.
I donโtโ look behind me. I donโt know if theyโre following me or not, and I donโt want to know. All I know is that I need to run faster. Iโm in decent shape, but given any normal circumstance I would never have been able to run so quickly for so long on a beach.
My head lamp bouncing up and down, I see the off-shoot-trail leading from the beach into the woods. Without much thought, if any, I take the trail and head into the woods.
My senses finally returning to me, I jump off the trail and move a little ways into the woods. I turn off my head lamp, and lie down among some tall grass. I watch the trail waiting to see the kids following. I waited, in the rain, and cold for god knows how long. A couple hours at least. No kids.
The cold was slowly creeping in. I wasnโt sure if I was shivering because of the adrenaline, the fear, or the cold, but I do know I was starting to freeze. I had to leave my concealment and make way to shelter. I had two options. The tent and sleeping bag, or the car.
The car meant safety. It meant home. However, it also meant that I would have to walk a mile and a half, in the dark with god knows who or what waiting for me.
The tent meant warmth, and shelter from the elements. It meant exposure to the kids. If the kids knew where I was hiking, and when, then theyโd know where I was camping. Right?
It was an impossible decision. It was a choice of the lesser of two evils. I chose the tent. I just couldnโt force myself to go back along the wooded trail, and I sure as hell wasnโt going back along the beach. I crossed my fingers and prayed that the little bastards didnโt know where my tent was. I got up, found the trail, and sprinted the ยฝ mile to the campground. As I ran a thought occurred. Maybe someone will have hiked in during the way. Maybe Iโll have company.
There was no life at the campground. When I arrived at the campground, I made a wide circle of it, looking both for other campers and for the little devils. I saw nothing and no one.
I made my way, as quietly as possible, to my tent. I unzipped the fly, and crawled in. I thought briefly about a fire, but decided that would be more of a signal to the kids then deterrence. My clothes were sopping wet and I was still very cold. I had to take them off. My pack is leaning against a tree about fifteen feet from my tent. Inside are clean, dry clothes, sealed tightly in a wet bag. However, now that Iโm inside the tent Iโm sure as hell not going back out. The tent gave me some sense of security even though it wasnโt in any way secure.
Now naked, I crawl inside my mummy bag. Iโd like to say how much I hate that itโs called a mummy bag. After a few moments I warm up, but the shivering takes another 1/3 hour or so to subside. As Iโm lying there, Iโm wishing so much that I had that bottle of whiskey in my car.
The rain plays against the leaves of the trees, and the wind creaks the branches. Under the best of circumstances this is a night where a personโs mind can get away from them. For me, it was utter terror. My imagination made every creak, every howl of the wind into something sinister. As the hours passed, and my adrenaline faded I felt immensely tired. I wanted so badly just to fall asleep. In sleep I wouldnโt know I was being eviscerated. Iโd either wake up or I wouldnโt.
I thought it was a nightmare at first. When I heard the voice, say โ something, I thought I was dreaming. But then sleep cleared from my head and I realized I was awake. It was still night, and the storm was still biting.
โHelp us,โ an unmistakable voice said.
I couldnโt help it. It was a gut reaction. I screamed. I lay naked, my mummy bag zipped up to my chin. I was completely helpless. I felt like a newborn baby, my fate completely held in the hands of others.
โPlease let us in.โ
โNo,โ I screeched, and then again, โno!โ
โItโs so cold. Please let us in, Mr.โ
I stopped replying and could only sob. Like a heartbroken teenage girl. Like a woman who just learned her sister died. I sobbed. I was so uncontrollably scared that I think it helped me not pay attention to the kids demands. At least not fully.
โLet us in.โ
I tugged the pull string on the hood of my mummy bag until I was completely enveloped. I just kept repeating, not daring to listen to the kids, the word โno.โ No, no, no ,no, no, no, no. I waited for death. I knew it was coming. Any second and Iโd be ripped to shreds.
The kid kept saying something, but I wasnโt listening. I wouldnโt listen.
I knew how overwhelming their hypnotic power was. I did everything I could not to listen. I kept chanting my mantra. Kept howling my โnoโs.โ
I donโt know when I fell asleep, but the next thing I know I startle awake. The sun is shining, and Iโm alive. I donโt know how, but Iโm alive. I look around my small tent and I donโt see anything amiss on the inside. It takes me several minutes to gather the courage necessary to unzip the tent fly, but finally I do. I peak my head out, but see no one. Naked, I run to my pack, and grab my clothes in the dry-bag. I toss some clothes on and race back to the tent. I tear it down in a matter of moments. I pack my sleeping back, and pad and tent onto my pack, and take off down the trail. I decide one more time to take the beach trail. In the sun, and warmth of the morning itโs an entirely different trail. The only moment Iโm given pause is when I come across a duck with what seems to be itโs heart torn out. I took a photo with a disposable camera in my pack, and move on.
I arrive at my car and find it unmolested. I get in and drive home.
Itโs been almost two entire moths since this happened, but I still remember it all like it was yesterday. I havenโt gone camping since, and I donโtโ know if Iโll ever feel safe hiking again. Maybe Iโll go camping again sometime in the future, but Iโm bringing a friend. No more going it alone.
I, thankfully, havenโt seen any more black eye kids. I donโt want to posit on what they are. I donโt want to think about whether they are demons, or monsters, aliens, or hybrids. I was interested at first. I did some research because I wanted to know if I was crazy. I donโt care what you think they are. I donโt care why they are. I just wanted to know that I wasnโt the only one who has had this experience. Iโm not, and Iโm thankful for that.
My advice if you ever do encounter a BEK, donโt listen to it to speak. Donโt be polite in case theyโre just weird kids. Donโt question their validity. Donโt worry about looking silly, or that others will think youโre crazy. Just run. Run and donโt look back.
I think Davidโs advice when you encounter a Black Eyed Kid is probably wise. The more you interact with them, the more it seems you are putting yourself at risk. The veil that separates our world from that of the ParaRational is incredibly thin. This is just another account of what happens when something from the other side steps across and starts playing in our world.
Source: pararational
