The Black-Eyed Kids

It was a night like any other, or so Sarah thought as she navigated her way home through the labyrinth of dimly lit streets. The city seemed to hold its breath, shrouded in an eerie silence that sent a shiver down her spine. Exhausted from a long day's work, Sarah longed for nothing more than the comfort of her own bed.

As she approached a stoplight, her gaze drifted to the sidewalk ahead, where two figures stood motionless in the shadows. At first, they appeared to be children, their forms obscured by the darkness, but as Sarah drew nearer, a sense of unease settled over her like a suffocating blanket.

It was their eyes – their eyes that pierced through the night with a soulless intensity, as black as the void itself. Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she stared into those bottomless pits, her mind struggling to comprehend the unnatural sight before her.

A tap on her window shattered the silence, and Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin as she turned to see one of the children standing outside her car. Their face was hidden beneath the hood of their jacket, but their eyes – those empty, lifeless eyes – bore into her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Please, miss, can you help us?" the child's voice was a hollow whisper, devoid of any emotion or inflection.

Sarah's heart raced as she hesitated, torn between the instinct to flee and the inexplicable urge to help. She glanced at the other child standing on the sidewalk, their gaze fixed on her with the same unsettling intensity.

"What do you need help with?" she managed to choke out, her voice betraying her fear.

"We need to get home," the child replied, their voice barely more than a whisper. "Can you give us a ride?"

Sarah's mind raced as she struggled to make sense of the situation. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to drive away, to leave these strange children behind and never look back. And yet, a nagging sense of curiosity – or perhaps something darker – held her in place.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, her voice trembling. "I can't help you."

With that, she rolled up her window and sped away, her heart pounding in her chest. But no matter how fast she drove, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that clung to her like a second skin.

When she arrived home, Sarah tried to push the encounter out of her mind, convincing herself that it was nothing more than a trick of the light or a figment of her imagination. But as she lay in bed, the image of those black-eyed children burned into her mind like a brand, their hollow gaze haunting her every thought.

The tapping on her window shattered the silence of the night, and Sarah's heart lurched in her chest as she turned to see the two children standing outside, their eyes fixed on hers with a chilling intensity.

"Please, miss," they said in unison, their voices echoing in the darkness. "Let us in."

But Sarah knew better than to open the door. She stayed rooted to her spot, her breath coming in shallow gasps, until the tapping finally ceased and the children vanished into the night.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, grateful to have made it through the night unscathed. But deep down, she knew that the memory of those black-eyed children would stay with her forever, a haunting reminder of the thin veil that separates the world of the living from the realm of the unknown.