Chapter 7: The Backyard Horror
It was a crisp, clear morning when Detective Andrew Roberts received the call. Another grisly murder had occurred, this time in the backyard of a modest house on the outskirts of town. He sighed, his gut twisting with dread. The black-eyed children had struck again.
As he pulled up to the house, the scene was already swarming with officers and forensic experts. Yellow tape cordoned off the area, and curious neighbors were gathered at a safe distance, murmuring amongst themselves.
Andrew walked briskly to the backyard, where Officer Martinez was waiting for him. She looked pale, her eyes reflecting the horror she had witnessed.
"Detective, this one is... it's bad," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.
Andrew nodded grimly.
"Show me."
They walked through the side gate and into the backyard. There, hanging from a large oak tree, was the body of a middle-aged man. His face was contorted in a rictus of terror, and the ropes binding him were intricately tied, almost ritualistic in their complexity. The swing beside him creaked eerily in the morning breeze, moving as if pushed by invisible hands.
Andrew took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus.
"What do we know about the victim?"
Martinez consulted her notes.
"His name is Richard Thompson. Lived here alone. No family in the area. Neighbors say he was a quiet man, kept to himself mostly."
Andrew frowned.
"Any signs of a struggle?"
Martinez shook her head.
"No signs of forced entry. No defensive wounds. It’s like he just let them do this to him."
Andrew approached the tree, examining the ropes.
"These knots... they’re not the work of children. They’re too precise, too calculated."
One of the forensic officers called out from near the base of the tree.
"Detective, you might want to see this."
Andrew walked over, where the officer pointed to a series of footprints in the soft earth.
"These look like children’s footprints, but there’s something odd about them. They’re deeper than they should be, like the kids were unnaturally heavy."
Andrew nodded.
"Get casts of these prints. We need to analyze them."
As he continued to survey the scene, he noticed something glinting in the grass. He knelt down and picked it up—a small, ornate locket. He opened it carefully, revealing a photograph of a young girl with striking black eyes.
Martinez joined him, her brow furrowed.
"Is that one of them?"
Andrew nodded slowly.
"I think so. This might be a clue."
Suddenly, a faint sound reached their ears—laughter, soft and sinister, carried on the wind. Andrew stood up, scanning the backyard for any sign of movement. The laughter seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Did you hear that?" he asked, his voice tense.
Martinez nodded, her hand instinctively going to her holstered gun.
"Yeah. It’s them, isn’t it?"
Andrew’s eyes narrowed.
"They’re close. Stay alert."
As the officers continued to document the scene, Andrew’s thoughts raced. The black-eyed children were not just killers; they were toying with their victims, leaving clues and traces that hinted at a deeper, more malevolent purpose.
---
Later that day, Andrew met with Kyla and Darwin at the police station. They had become integral to the investigation, their firsthand experience with the children providing invaluable insights.
"We found another victim," Andrew said, his tone somber.
"Hanged in his backyard. The ropes were tied in an intricate pattern, and we found children’s footprints at the scene."
Kyla shuddered, her face pale.
"How can children be capable of such things?"
Darwin clenched his fists.
"They’re not just children anymore. They’re something else, something evil."
Andrew nodded.
"We also found this." He handed the locket to Kyla. "Do you recognize her?"
Kyla examined the photograph, her eyes widening. "Yes, that’s one of them. She was at our house."
Darwin leaned in for a closer look. "What does this mean? Why leave it behind?"
Andrew sighed. "I think it’s a message. They’re trying to tell us something, but I can’t figure out what."
They spent the next few hours poring over the evidence, trying to piece together the puzzle. As night fell, Andrew’s phone rang. It was Officer Martinez.
"Detective, we’ve got something. A neighbor’s security camera caught footage of the children entering Richard Thompson’s yard last night."
Andrew’s heart raced. "I’ll be right there."
---
The footage was grainy, but it clearly showed three children with black eyes climbing over Thompson’s fence in the dead of night. They moved with eerie precision, making their way to the tree and setting up the ropes.
"Look at how they move," Martinez said, pointing at the screen. "It’s almost like they’re being guided."
Andrew nodded, deep in thought. "Or controlled. We need to find out who—or what—is behind this."
As they continued to analyze the footage, something caught Andrew’s eye. In the corner of the screen, a shadowy figure stood watching the children. It was barely visible, but its presence was undeniable.
"Who is that?" Kyla asked, her voice trembling.
Andrew paused the video, enhancing the image as much as possible. The figure was cloaked in darkness, but its outline suggested a tall, slender form.
Darwin frowned. "Could that be the one controlling them?"
Andrew shook his head. "I don’t know, but it’s our best lead so far. We need to find this figure."
---
The next morning, Andrew, Kyla, and Darwin returned to Richard Thompson’s house to continue their investigation. They combed through the backyard, looking for any additional clues.
Kyla knelt by the tree, examining the ground where the children had stood. "There’s something here," she called out.
Andrew and Darwin joined her, and together they uncovered a small, leather-bound book hidden beneath the grass. The cover was adorned with more of the strange symbols they had seen before.
Andrew carefully opened the book, revealing pages filled with handwritten notes and drawings. "This looks like a journal," he said. "Maybe it belonged to Thompson."
They flipped through the pages, finding detailed accounts of strange occurrences and sightings of the black-eyed children. One entry stood out:
*April 12th: The children came again tonight. Their eyes... so empty, so dark. They speak of cleansing, of a watcher who guides them. I fear for my life, but I can’t leave. I must understand.*
Andrew closed the journal, his mind racing. "He knew something. He was trying to figure out what was happening."
Darwin nodded. "And he paid the price for it."
Kyla glanced around the backyard, her eyes lingering on the tree. "Do you think the watcher he mentioned is the figure we saw in the footage?"
Andrew considered this.
"It’s possible. If Thompson was getting close to the truth, the watcher might have ordered the children to silence him."
As they continued their search, they found more signs of the children’s presence—small handprints on the tree, scattered toys that seemed out of place, and more of the strange symbols carved into the bark.
Kyla shivered, rubbing her arms. "This place feels cursed."
Andrew nodded. "We need to be careful. Whatever we’re dealing with, it’s powerful and dangerous."
---
That evening, as they reviewed their findings, Andrew received another call from Officer Martinez.
"Detective, we’ve identified the shadowy figure in the footage. It’s a local man named Samuel Harris. He’s been on our radar for a while—suspected of dabbling in occult practices."
Andrew’s eyes widened.
"Where can we find him?"
"He owns an old farm on the outskirts of town. We’re heading there now."
Andrew turned to Kyla and Darwin.
"We might have a lead on the watcher. We’re going to need backup."
Kyla and Darwin nodded, ready for whatever came next. Together, they headed to the farm, determined to uncover the truth and put an end to the terror.
---
The farm was a sprawling, decrepit property, its fields overgrown and buildings in disrepair. As they approached, Andrew felt a sense of foreboding. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness.
They met Martinez and the other officers near the entrance.
"Harris is inside," she said. "We’re moving in."
Andrew led the way, his flashlight cutting through the darkness. They entered the farmhouse, the floorboards creaking under their weight. The place was filled with strange artifacts—candles, books, and more of the symbols they had seen before.
In the center of the main room, they found Harris. He was sitting in a chair, his eyes glazed over, murmuring to himself.
"Samuel Harris," Andrew called out, his voice firm. "We need to talk to you."
Harris looked up, his eyes wild.
"You don’t understand. It’s too late. They’re coming."
Andrew stepped closer.
"Who’s coming? What do you know about the black-eyed children?"
Harris laughed, a manic sound that sent chills down their spines.
"The watcher guides them. They cleanse the unworthy. You can’t stop them."
Kyla stepped forward, her voice trembling with anger.
"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping them?"
Harris shook his head.
"I’m not helping them. I’m trying to stop them. But the watcher... it’s too powerful."
Andrew felt a surge of frustration.
"Who is the watcher?"