It seemed like every second another fairy-princess or pirate knocked on my door looking for a hershey bar. I never did like children, especially today. So why would I spend anything over just a few dollars on candy for their stupid drooly faces. I gave out the same shit everyone else did in this god awful small town. Those cheap wax candies. You know, the ones that stick to your teeth and taste like nothing. They melt really fast and stick to the wrapper. The point is I wasn't going to spoil someone else's shitty kid even if it was Halloween.
It felt like tonight was going by so slowly. I had to have handed out candy to over thirty kids.
Great, the doorbell, there's more of those rotten tykes at the door. And just like the last thousand times I picked up the almost empty candy basket and answered the door. It wasn't the crowd I was expecting. Instead of a crowd of a thousand kids shoving each other out of the way to get to the candy first and the ignorant parents chatting to each other about how cute their unimaginative generic firefighter was there were just three children standing in front of me with what looked to be very well done homemade zombie costumes. I looked around and it seemed their parents were no where to be found. They must have wandered.
The smallest child spoke. "May I use your restroom ma'am?" All three of them were looking at the ground or in any direction other then me, but I still was blown away by the politeness coming from such strange children. "Just don't get all that costume makeup everywhere". I invited them inside. Maybe their parents will stop by looking for them. Even though they obviously weren't being watched to wander like this their parents may still be worried.
At the time I didn't know about the black eyed children, hell I hadn't even really seen their faces. I just felt sorry for them. They were all alone and it was getting dark out. They weren't like those other demanding little shits anyway. They were polite, which is odd for the kids around here. They were so quiet and respectful as they came in too, making sure not to bump anything as they made their way upstairs to the bathroom.
Then it hit me, I never told them where the bathroom was. My bathroom was downstairs. My mother visits often and is much to old to climb those narrow steps. A matter of fact she was here visiting with my sister. My sister sleeps upstairs while my mother has a bedroom off the livingroom area.
I heard screaming. It sounded as if someone was terrified as much as in intense pain. I began to run up those steps but I lost my footing and hit my head off of the top step and for what I'm assuming was a few hours I was out.
I wish I knew what happened back at home. I'm bound to my place of death. My soul may never leave my body. This is what happens when you let the black eyed children in.