SOMEWHERE BEHIND BLACK EYES_Part 9

She is out for vengeance & she’s found a black-eyed kid. What WILL she ever do with it?

Somewhere behind black eyes…

I zipped up the back of the dress I purchased for her at the thrift9. She didn’t seem to dislike it. She was quiet and held as still as a life-size doll. The other dress she came to my door in was so old that it appeared as if she had just walked off the pages of an American gothic paperback. She was a pocket-sized child. She looked as though she had been worn, corners dog�“eared with use and smells of mildew, type Gothic with her face pallid and flawless she looked like a porcelain doll with black voids for eyes. If I was going to help her and keep her fed, there was no way I could do her any favors by letting her continue to hunt in the garb she came to me in.

She didn’t come to me. Truth be told, I summoned her. Her body appeared to be between the ages of four to seven. When I found her, my mothering instinct took over, and I got to work being of some use to her and her kind.

See, I didn’t walk into this blindly. I knew the possible consequences. I knew what I may have had to sacrifice. I will touch more on the details later after I have out the door and on her way to her Prime Target location for the evening.

I am taking a huge risk having her here. Not just because of the possible health risks, but I have neighbors near who know I am a single, white female with no kids and only a cat. I have had to shun people I would typically have friendships. Her need for me is far more soul-reaching than the mundane relationships I have disdained and resented for this lifetime. At one point, it occurred to me that my fostering a Kiily Tokurt, better known as a Black Eyed Kid, would not get me any fostering paychecks or extra help from the government. She must be kept a secret if I am to protect her.

I didn’t know how to ask her name when she first came. As far as I knew, her kind didn’t have English pronounceable names. Sort of as if she were a lost puppy, she would come to me with just about anything I chose to call her at the moment. If I were to take this task seriously, I would have to give her a proper name and get her use to its frequency, a feeling of it, and sound pronunciation. I decided to call her Zoe. Which in Greek means “Life.” She may appear ghostly, even demonic-like, but she was becoming so to me, becoming my life, so I named her as such. The few times we practiced the pronunciation of her name together, she pronounced it as if it had an extra `A.E.’ at the end of it. ZoeAE is what she called herself because she was learning to be independent. I thought I’d give her first gift to herself and let her keep her name.

A.E. could stand for Alien Entity, which is one of my working theories as to what her kind might be. There were a few words she was able to say. There was a line she seemed practiced to recite. It seemed to be the same thing she said every time she knocked on a door. When I caught her at my neighbor’s door, I think she did not dimension jump because she was in the middle of saying her line.

I knew if she was at his door, there was a damn good reason. Still, my selfishness took power over me, and I ran upon her, and my neighbor explaining my “niece” wandered away. Then I apologized clumsily and gently grabbed her hand as if I knew her, pulling her into my apartment.

When the door to my apartment was securely closed and locked, I took a few desperate minutes to catch my breath. I almost missed her again. I had sat up for nights on end, waiting for her to knock on someone’s door to where I could apprehend her.

I slept in my front hallway! I piled up a bunch of blankets and pillows in the hall. My cat box is there, so I had to move the box out to the balcony porch and then leave the door to it ajar, so my cat could get to it.

Before I put out the bedding, I swept, vacuumed, and mopped the hallway of cat litter. Despite the age of the building I live in and the pest content, I am a clean person. Sleeping on the floor sucked a lot, though, I’m not going to lie.

Her planned destination isn’t far from our apartment. I thought it best to start cleaning up our neighborhood first. I can walk her over there and watch her from afar. I have come to call her prey Prime Target or P.T. I have taught her to call them this.

Prime Target is a sixty-some-odd-year-old man who sexually assaults women in the park. As they walk by, he grabs them. I have seen him touch a neighborhood boy. He doesn’t know I’ve seen him do it because I have seen him from my balcony with a pair of binoculars.

Initially, I had been bird-watching. I had my camera on hand the first few times I had taken pictures of his atrocities. Still, after discovering that I could be instrumental in taking perverts like him out, I soon threw out the evidence. Even then, I was able to plan, and if he disappeared because of ZoeAE and me, then I could not have pictures of him on my person, even in my apartment. ZoeAE and I must never be caught.

With a few brushes of her hair and laid-back wisps of her frizzy, long bangs, we were ready to conquer the night and take out Prime Target, this bane of society.

“Let’s go, kiddo,” I said. She didn’t respond with anything but a gaze up at me. The dark voids of her eyes did not tell me anything about how she was feeling or if she was capable of handling anything. Yet, I’m sure the gaze was meant to be a trusting one that sent a slight shiver down my spine. I had to regain composure if we were going to do this.

I read back on this, and it seems that it sounds as if I have no fear of her. I do, but I must keep that contained. If she senses it, I, too, maybe targeted. But then again, I’m sure she is looking for only a particular target type. I don’t fit the mold. I don’t have the demeanor or the job skills the others had.

For her, the target would be rich with the frequency she needs if they are trained in something in their life which has directed them to show and feel no fear. Those are the ambrosia of the frequency banquets. Suppose the Kiily Tokurt can access the PrimeTarget’s home or car. In that case, they are, unknowingly, to the P.T., giving the black-eyed kid permission to drain all of the frequency from their being. In other words, the human target will develop illnesses, headaches will come, they vomit sometimes, their stomachs start retching, and then they die. It’s all wonderfully, terrible to watch, and (pun intended) breathtaking.

If the black-eyed kid senses their practiced dialogue will not get them in the door, they try one of two things to get as much of the person’s energy as they can. They either raise their pitch, black holes for eyes to the Prime Target and repeat their line, or they start yelling at the Prime Target to let them in as they are staring at them. They figure at least they will get some type of fear frequency, and they can sustain that for a while. I don’t know how I end up in the right place at the right time, but I have seen this happen a couple times. It even scared the crap outta me! I can’t imagine being on the other end of a BEK.

I have witnessed the human target point weapons at the kid. Odd as it maybe seems, the human looked horrified and guilty at the same time. The only thing I can think of is adults, especially those with some type of honor, will not hurt women or children. No one has ever shot or stabbed a Kiily Tokurt, the Kiily are too sharp, and they dimension jump before the human can do them harm.

I led her out the door and into the pulsing darkness of the night. Where only street lamps lit our way. I made sure we hunted during a full moon, so it would be back up lighting just in case she did what she did last week. I gave it a few seconds as we walked, and sure enough!

“POP” “POP” “pop”

Down the street, all the street lamps went out. Even though it was a frequency she could sustain for the time being. It was only to her like eating a few chips.

His home was only a block or two away. I walked her to the door. The lights were on, so I figured he was home. I ducked down on the side of the porch inside the bushes, but something was wrong. She turned around and got a cross look on her face.

I looked at her and said, “What’s wrong, ZoeAE?”

Is the home. She continued to look confused. I think he wasn’t home, but she didn’t know enough of our language to express it.

I tip-toed up to his window on the side of the house and peeked inside. His lights were on, and I even thought I saw the flicker of the television lights bounce off the furniture, but I didn’t see any movement other than light.

Then I remembered to my left there was a garage. The garage door was closed, but this was no problem because there was a bin I could stand on next to the structure if I pulled it under the window quietly. I did just that and found his car was gone.

“F**K!” I exclaimed as loud as I could get away with without the neighbors hearing me.

I didn’t even have a plan B. One thing I couldn’t do was stand out here where one of his many neighbors might be up getting a midnight snack and look out their window, then see me. Or worse, see ZoeAE! I had to get her back to our place and formulate a Plan B. I couldn’t let her energy deplete, or whatever it is, her reaction would be to not get her frequency dinner.

“C’mon, ZoeAE.” I took her hand and led her back down the dark streets lined with burnt-out lights.

I thought it was sort of funny. City Utilities would have to come out here again this week and replace the bulbs. I audibly giggled to myself, but ZoeAE kept looking forward and didn’t react to my laughter.

Sometimes, she would be in the same room as me, and I would catch myself staring at her and completely spacing out. I wondered how many levels of communication their kind understood about human-kind or even if they thought it necessary to be educated in that sort of thing.

Socially speaking, I think they might just be taught enough to know when the line they practiced and recited would co-hearse the human to let them have what they want. It sounds a little Sociopathic if you think about it in psychological terms. But then, I heard that natural children until a certain age has solid sociopathic tendencies.

“Phew.” I overthink.

Besides, if there were any truth to that, it sounds like theBlack Eyed Kids fit right in here on earth.

Still, the only one I knew lived right under my roof. Was this a blessing or a curse? Weren’t most things in life paradoxical? It seemed as such. We reached our door, and I fumbled for the keys in my pocket. Then pulled them out.

This was when I always got one of her looks of curiosity. She didn’t know what keys were, and she didn’t know what a doorbell was. One day I would share this knowledge with her. Still, it didn’t seem very important right now, considering how much there was to teach her about surviving on this planet.

Then it occurred to me. If I taught her enough to live here, would I someday have to let her live independently? What exactly was I training and letting lose on human-kind? Then it occurred to me. Human and kind, wasn’t that paradoxical in a way? A small giggle escaped my lips. I got the keys in, and the door popped open. We entered. I let myself take a few deep breaths. What are we going to do now?

She was still standing near the doorway. As soon as I got my bearing, I rushed over to her and examined her. I couldn’t tell if her energy was depleting by looking into her eyes. In fact, when I gazed into her eyes at a point, I felt a little dizzy. Somehow it took a little of the anxiety away from me, but I still had to pull my eyes out and get my head back in the game. What were we going to do tonight? I had no idea.

The best I could do was go back to the sex offenders register and look up someone else for us to pay a visit. Who would it be tonight? It had to be someone nearby, geographically speaking.

Since I cleared my search history, I had to go back to the search engine I used and scroll to find the site every time I visited the site. I think I may have gone to the wrong one because I clicked several things and ended up on a page that wanted all my personal information and asked me for my credit card number!

Nope!

Cannot do it!

I didn’t need a bunch of emails from this site. Even if it would be helpful, I didn’t want to risk being on some FBI list somewhere. I back clicked until I ended up on the results page. Whatever sites were highlighted in purple were the ones I had looked at.

Then a light bulb lit up in my head, and I got the idea to go to a mugshots site for our county. I will double-check to make sure we have someone who deserves their demise. Bingo! I found someone. I will not disclose his details here, but we had dinner for her tonight.

Then I heard my cat scream! It was a gut-wrenching yowl and then a low whine!

” Oh s**t!” I got out of the desk chair as fast as possible and tore through the office into the living area.

“No! No! No! No!” On the floor in front of me was my cat, Frisky, and on the other side of him was my little ZoeAE!

To her, more in frustration than anger, I said,” ZoeAE, you cannot eat the cat! He is not Prime Target!”

Until I started speaking to her, she had an over satisfied expression on her face, which in any other kid would be adorable. Still, in her, it was grotesque and sinister. The afterthought was I should be pissed because I loved little Frisky! I had him for four years, and he was a great companion until ZoeAE came to live with us. Then he was always hiding. He’d stay in the shadows or under the bed. There was a time when days would go by, and he wouldn’t come out to eat.

I couldn’t get mad at her, though. In many ways, she was like a child and didn’t know any better, or I thought so until she said, “I play with my food.”

Oh my god! I had to run out of the room and back into the office, where I slammed the door. I had an onslaught of heart palpitations, and I was gasping for air! I did the breathing exercises my therapist, and I worked on together, but it didn’t work! I was out of emergency Valium, so I was screwed on that. I stood up against the office door until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. Then I slumped down, holding my stomach and sliding my back down the door until I was sitting. I couldn’t keep it in any longer, and I burst into tears.

I should give up. I don’t know why this is so important to me, and I could get caught. Then the memories came flooding back to me. I needed to follow through on this endeavor. Millions of kids around the world were at the mercy of these monsters. Monsters who were more prominent and worse than my little ZoeAE. Monsters who would hurt her and have hurt other children. They would hurt her if she didn’t have the upper hand.

Children are taught to trust adults, and when they do, there are times they don’t know any better the intentions of these predators. The predators are not always what we are taught. They are when we are in class and taught ‘Stranger Danger.’ Often, the danger is not from someone in a dark trench coat and a dark hat. Most times, the threat comes from a family friend, teacher, or worse, a family member.

Mine was a family member. I remember the grooming. The uncle who told me I was special. He took me places he didn’t take my little brother. We were at a carnival one year. Of course, my brother wasn’t able to go. That year we went on all the rides. There was one that had swung. It would spin around and take you higher and higher until you were flying! My favorite after I got myself to calm down from the initial anxiety of being up in the sky with nothing but a bar to keep me strapped into the swing I was perched in.

After I got off of that ride, I was elated! I felt as if nothing could frighten me anymore. In my over-exuberance, my uncle suggested I brave the House Of Horrors. I was ready for monsters, witches, or werewolves! I had braved being up in the air where only the birds dared to go! We stopped by a concession stand, he bought me a blue raspberry cotton candy, then we walked up to the ticket booth to get two tickets for the attraction.

I’m always wondering how much I remember about what that ticket booth looked like. It was painted red with blue trim, the window was almost a foot taller than me, and the lady who sold my uncle the tickets was a brunette. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she was wearing the carnival visor everyone who worked there had to wear. She also had a matching uniform shirt like the others who worked there.

I was wearing pink shorts and a tank top with cherries on it. The sandals I wore were white.

My uncle got out the tickets, handed them to the adolescent boy outside the attraction, and grabbed my hand, leading me into the funhouse entrance. It was dark inside. There were blinking strobe lights up ahead. As we walked down the narrow, dark halls, I noticed no one was in front of us or behind us. A skeleton was positioned to the left. As we approached, it jumped out partially, startling me. My uncle thought this was funny and laughed while assuring me he wouldn’t let anything hurt me. Strobe lights continued to blink. Uncle assured me he knew of an excellent place to hide from the monsters, so he pulled me into a utility closet. The utility closet was darker and held more horror than the whole house. I remembered that part. The rest of the experience I blocked out of my head.

It’s strange. Even when you are as young as I was, you still somehow know what the adult you are supposed to trust is persuading you to do is very wrong. Especially when you are sworn to secrecy or told you will be punished or considered a bad little girl by family members or neighbors if anyone finds out.

The worst-case scenario is that the predator assures you they will hurt a family member if anyone knows about it. I knew what was happening, and it happened times after that. I couldn’t stop it and knew it was wrong, but I didn’t know and was never told I wasn’t in the bad, the adult I was supposed to trust. Still, even though there was a time when I grew older, I was able to avoid him. I felt dirty. At times getting yelled at by my mom for using the shower too long and using up all the hot water to get some invisible filth which I felt clung to me for years after that.

I had to get myself together, bag up Frisky’s remains, and dispose of them. I didn’t have time to bury him. I have to go to work tomorrow. It was already three in the morning! Good thing it was late. My neighbors wouldn’t see me throwing my cat into the trash.

Work was grudgingly long, as usual, there weren’t enough people to fill the hours, and I was asked to work a double which I turned down as gracefully as I could muster. I used to work with them all the time. Still, after I found her a better purpose in life, I resent that my boss was the one to make a beeline for me before anyone else was approached. He couldn’t fire me for saying no, could he? If he threatened to, I’d have to lie and say I have a second job. I did have a second job! No, this was my second job! Gosh, when will I stop having these arguments in my head with myself?!

It was time to punch out and head home to my greater purpose. I used to worry I would get home and find her gone. Then several times later, I realized maybe she didn’t want to leave. She could have. As I mentioned earlier, her kind knew how to dimension jump. I giggled again, thinking she would have to teach me that trick sometime!

I opened my door and almost hit her with it! She was standing only inches away. I took this as she really needed a frequency dinner tonight, and I would have to get myself ready as soon as possible. I stripped off my work clothes and gathered up the clothes I had only worn a few hours the previous night. I scrambled to put them on and got her prettied up. I reminded her not to look at the Prime Target right away. I have her a new line to practice, and then we were out the door.

Once again, down the street, the lights popped out. We reached the Prime Targets door. He was home this time. I stayed hidden in his bushes, as I did the night before. She looked at me, and I told her to go ahead. She jammed on the door three times loudly, which was customary to the Kiily Tokurt, and then we waited.

My heart was beating rapidly. I was nervous, but I strained myself to hear the dialogue. She did as I taught her.

She kept her head down and said, “Can I come in to play?” We waited. It seemed like an eternity.

Then he replied as he looked around to see if anyone was watching them. “Isn’t it a little late to be playing? Shouldn’t you be in bed?” Since it was summer, he wouldn’t mention anything about her having school in the morning.

She repeated her line, this time, it seemed a bit more forceful. “Can I come in to play!”

He blinked a few times, then looked up and down the block from his doorway to check to make sure no one was watching them, then he smiled. His smile sent chills down my spine. I would have been apprehensive if it had been any other child besides ZoeAE.

He scanned her dark hair and the length of it. He took in the pink and purple of her dress as if he were a kid in a candy store, and she was the colorful candy he wanted to consume. He saw her socks, knee-highs, and Mary Jane shoes I bought for her. At that moment, his demeanor changed.

She was about to look up, but then he invited her in. “So you like ice cream? I have vanilla!”

I wasn’t afraid of being heard now! I walked a few feet to where the living room window on the side would be, and I breathlessly watched her do her thing!

Mr. Chester whistled as he walked into his kitchen, reached into a cupboard, pulled down a bowl, and opened his silverware drawer to get a spoon.

ZoeAE silently floated into the room behind him. I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear her enter his kitchen. She grinned eerily again as she looked at him, then she turned her face towards me, ever vigilant in the window, like a candle burning brightly.

He reached into the freezer. As he went to close the door, he started to cough. She was watching him again as he tried to cover his mouth. On the other hand, he accidentally threw the ice cream container on the floor as he was holding his stomach. His coughing turned into gagging, and he dropped to the floor shortly after he started vomiting black fluid from his bowels.

I’d never heard her do it before, but ZoeAE, an apt pupil, started giggling! It was surprising he could talk, but he begged her to call 911. Her grin did not falter as she floated closer and closer to him! There had to be a black sludge puddle at least three feet wide. Still, he was wreathing on the floor next to his pint of vanilla ice cream, and his bowels were throwing up nothing. His eyes were bulging out of the sockets and were bloodshot red, then blood trickled out of them until he was dead and no longer struggling.

ZoeAE stood over him. Still, her face held a satisfied expression. I tapped on the window with my knuckles, and she turned to look at me. I tapped again. She floated away from the perverts, dried out a corpse, crunched up in the fetal position, and returned outside. She floated down the stairs where I met her at the bottom. Grabbing her frail little hand in mine, I said, “You did a good job. I’m very proud of you!”

She looked up at me one more time before we got to our home, and she said, “I play with my food.”