The coffee shop manager asked that the noise level be dropped to a dull roar if we could. Alarick, the master of ceremonies and unofficial group leader, standing in the middle of our gathering, looked over to him and nodded.
He raised his arms, palms down and kinda dropped and lifted his hands in a ‘tone it down’ gesture. The group immediately quietened and as always, I couldn’t help being impressed at the control the hoodie-wearing, black wrist-bands up his arm-sporting, tall, but slight of frame ring-leader wielded. Still, I suppose that was the main reason I caved in to the repeated invitations to join him at one of his ‘gatherings’. Well, the first reason was that he didn’t give up and he never stopped asking.
The second reason was that I was curious about him. He’s an intense kinda guy but private, keeps himself to himself. I suppose I wanted to know what went on at these gatherings. Since the first time I attended, I’ve been hooked. No gathering is the same as the previous one and every one has been fascinating. We usually discuss urban myths or legends and the varied viewpoints from everyone is mind-blowing.
If you want a short conversation on vampires and werewolves and whether they exist, do NOT ask these guys. These guys know. They’ll baffle you with facts, sightings, rumours, legends and more facts. These guys – and I include girls in the mix here - will make your head spin. They know traditions and legends, folklore and urban myths from countries I’ve never even heard of, let alone visited. One guy has even been to Dracula’s castle – the real one and he has photos.
The membership is flexible, you don’t have to make every gathering and there are no subs to be paid, but it’s widely accepted that you speak, even if it’s only in a group discussion. Opinions are welcome and encouraged; changes of subject are too.
I’ve usually heard of the urban legends and can hold my own in discussion. Vampires and Werewolves? They were part and parcel of my growing up. I can quote facts, figures and quotes about them ‘til the cows come home, but if there’s a subject I’ve not heard about, I want to know more and I get all quiet and I listen.
Tonight, when the subject of B.E.K.s came up, I was quiet. The acronym, B.E.K was one I’ve not heard of, so when the conversation got around from Yetis, the film Urban Legend and shenanigans linked to those subjects and onto the new stuff, I was ready to sit back and be enthralled.
I had no idea what I was in for of course.
Just like the Isle del Muerte; the island that can only be found by someone that’s been there, B.E.K.s can only be seen by someone that’s heard of them. The fact that if I continued to listen, I’d lose that protection was not lost on me. Ah well, here goes nothin’, I thought, but I did notice Alarick glancing at me every so often, checking I was still there, I guess.
B.E.K.s – Black Eyed Kids: pranksters (yeah, that’s not a word I use every day, trust me) or real threat?
They turn up late at night, when you’re on your own. There’s a knock on the door, the dog goes wild and then cowers behind their owner as he goes to answer the door. It has to be an emergency, knocking so late at night, right?
So, most of the stories revolve around these kids wanting to get into the house. They’re desperate to get in, but they don’t just force past the owner, they try to persuade him to invite them in. Like vampires, only smaller. ALL the stories the group shared were the same in the fact that none of the B.E.K.s got in. That in and of itself is a little freaky. I mean, these Urban Myths, they always have at least someone that got caught, right? Not with B.E.K.s, I swear. There are no stories about a B.E.K. that got in and what happened after.
None.
I asked.
Most of the group had at least one story to tell on the subject and they got creepier as they went on. It was like a competition to see who could ‘recall’ the most fucked-up version of B.E.K.s.
The last story went something along the lines of this: A man, not alone but the only one awake, hears the dog roaming around downstairs. He goes to see what’s up and finds it growling low in its chest, head low, level with its shoulders, hackles raised and nervy as hell. He went to see what was wrong, take a look out of the window, but the dog yelped like it had been kicked. The guy looked at the dog before he opened the curtains and the dog was sat on the floor shaking, panting and in deep distress.
The guy goes to make sure his dog was ok when he heard a knock on the front door. The dog starts up his low growl in his chest again but it no longer wants to go prowling, it wants to sit with the guy and lay low.
The guy goes to the door but the dog refuses to follow him, which again, is unusual. He looks through the spyhole and sees two kids. They look up at the spyhole as though they know he’s there and that creeps him out. He steps back and almost falls over the dog. He hears a voice, one of the kids is asking to be allowed in to use the phone. He takes heed of his dog’s advice and they sit in the hall as quiet as mice.
“We need to call our mother!” the kid calls through the door. The voice of the kid gets angrier with each request and it’s shouting so much the guy is sure one of the neighbours will call the police soon – he hopes.
Then the dog stops shaking, but he starts the growling again and he moves to the kitchen door. The back door is locked, the guy knows it for a fact, but he commando-crawls into the kitchen to check without being seen through the kitchen window.
The guy cannot believe how damned scared he is.
Eventually, the guy decides he’s safe enough and goes back up the stairs. He takes a moment to pause and looks back at his shaking dog, he calls him upstairs and the dog races past him, into the guy’s kid’s room.
The guy goes into the kid’s bedroom and the window is open.
A pale face with pure black eyes stares up from the level of the window ledge, its hand just reaching up to the window. The guy slams the window, closes the curtains, gathers the sleeping child and runs into his bedroom. The kid is deposited on the bed next to the mom, who never wakes up. The dog jumps up on the bed and the guy makes certain all the windows upstairs are closed before getting into bed. He doesn’t sleep a wink all night.
When the sun comes up and his wife wakes, she wants to know what the hell happened. He looks like shit, the dog is on the bed and the kid is next to her.
On that note, with the group rapt and freaked out, the coffee shop manager declares it’s closing time and he’ll see us next week.
I look out of the window, confused as to why he was closing early, and it’s dark. It’s gone past nine thirty and the rain is pissing down. Lovely, I have a good walk home in front of me, in the dark and rain, with the images of that story to keep me company.
Trudging along rain-slicked streets, L.E.D. lights cast a strange light – yeah, they’re great for the environment, cheaper to run and because they point down to the street, light pollution is cut drastically, but the light is just eerie. Or maybe I’m a little freaked by the mood and subject matter of the previous few hours?
Alarick always conducts such intense gatherings. They’re fun and all, but he really does need to lighten the fuck up once in a while. The guy is a genius. He knows everything about everything! Tonight, we discussed so many urban myths I don’t know what’s true and what’s legend any more. Usually I try to mess with him a little, throwing subjects into the mix like the Yeti, Bigfoot, Sasquatch and the reason behind the different names. Is it one animal or are there different species? So, Alarick comes back with ‘Yes, but you also have to ask about the European Woodiwose and The Green Man if you’re talking about the Yeti, Bigfoot and Sasquatch.’
I’m like… ‘What?’ and he just laughs at me.
I’m walking along with my head down, looking at my phone. It’s a bad habit, I know, I should be more aware of my surroundings, especially when I’m alone and it’s dark.
My phone goes ‘Ping!’ as it receives a message and I jump at the vibration because I’m still freaked out.
The text is from Alarick.
Stop looking at your phone. Something’s happening and you need to be alert.
So, I look up and put my phone in my pocket.
How the hell does he know this stuff?
The street is silent, not just quiet, but utterly, deathly silent. There are usually birds or other noises, like people talking in their gardens. I suppose it’s because it’s late and it’s raining, no one’s outside, but to hear nothing? It’s like a thick blanket was dropped over the area and the sound has been muffled. Ah, Alarick’s got into my head again! Every time I go to one of his gatherings, I swear I’ll not let him in, but there he goes, that one text and he’s taken up residence in my mind.
The streets are really silent though and that’s weird; nothing to do with Alarick of course.
It’s most likely the rain and dark. But it’s no longer raining, it just stopped, abruptly. I make myself grin because I look up to see why it stopped, like I could see the reason. Fool!
The text has put me on edge; I suppose that’s a good thing though. I’m not far from home now and it’s been ages since I saw anyone. There aren’t even any cars on the road.
I stop dead in my tracks. I’m close to home, only a few houses away from mine. There’s a streetlight a few yards from my gate, but the light doesn’t quite reach the boundary of my house. I never realised that until now. Perhaps it’s because of the wet pavement accentuating the shine from the L.E.D. bulbs. Perhaps it’s because my perception is heightened, but the two kids standing just at the edge of the circle of light, not quite on my drive, look like they’re waiting. I get the jitters, it’s not suspicious, I don’t think they’re waiting to rob me or anything, but it’s certainly ominous.
A sharp prickle of apprehension trickles up my spine. My head jerks as the prickle radiates out across my scalp and then back down my cheeks and neck, across my shoulders and down my arms to my fingers, making them feel numb for a second. I rub my fingertips against my thumb until the feeling comes back but I’m only half-aware I’m doing it; my full concentration is locked on those kids.
It has to be ten thirty, way too late for kids to be out, especially in the rain.
The kids turn to look at me in what looks like a synchronised motion. No kidding, they stop what they were doing, studying something between them, and lift their heads and turn to look at me. They move really weird too, more insect-like than the fluid human motion we take for granted.
When their heads jerk forward and up, then back to settle in the ‘human’ stance, the follicles in my scalp try to lift the hair on my head but the weight of my hair no longer allows movement. The muscles in the follicles on my arms, legs and chest had no trouble achieving the aim of making my body appear twice the size, under my clothes. That’s evolution for you, it’s kept the bit that can make a guy appear larger to ward of threats, but only if the guy’s naked. Such a powerful, primeval and instinctive reaction shouldn’t be ignored and I approach the kids with a great deal of wary unease.
“Hello? Can I help you?” I use my most polite voice because there’s no point in pissing off unknown entities before you find out what they’re capable of. Hah, yeah, that’s totally Alarick’s voice narrating my adventure.
“We’re lost and our mother will be worried. Please may we use your telephone device to call her?” the bigger kid says.
“Sure, what’s her number?” I say, taking my phone out of my pocket. Something’s not right here and I kinda know they aren’t going to take me up on the offer, so I search and find Alarick’s number and have it ready to go.
“No, we need to call from inside your home,” the bigger kid says.
I was just thinking their speech was a little off; who says ‘mother’, ‘please may we’ and ‘telephone device’ anyway?
The kids both have nice clothes, not designer or really expensive, but not shabby either. They both are wearing hoodies, like mine, so their hair is covered, their faces shrouded in shadow, but the spookiest thing is their movement. Jerky one minute, smooth and fluid the next.
“I’m not letting you in my house; I don’t know you guys,” I tell them. At the same time, my thumb swiped the call button to Alarick’s number.
The kids look at each other and I swear it looked as though they were speaking, but there wasn’t a sound coming from them. Their hands and heads move just like people do in conversation, but the absence of sound makes me shake my head to see if my ears were blocked. The relief when I heard Alarick’s voice through my ‘telephone device’ shook me, because I didn’t realise how anxious I’d become.
“Just listen,” I said and Alarick replied with “K.” I hold the phone closer to the kids so it can pick up their words as well as mine.
“You don’t understand,” the bigger kid said. “Our mother will be worried. We need to assure her of our well-being and inform her of the place where she may locate us.” The kid’s insistence is difficult to ignore and the dread I feel in my stomach increases, knotting my innards.
“Sorry kids, I can phone your mother from my mobile telephone device or you can find some other sucker to help you.” I tell them in a voice that sounds far more cheerful and assertive than I feel.
“It has to be you,” the kid says and a full body-shudder swamps me. I almost drop the damn phone.
“Did you hear that, Alarick?” I say, never taking my eyes off those kids.
“I heard it, I’m almost there.”
A cold droplet of sweat trickles down my spine and I just know I can’t hold the kids off much longer. My nerve is going and I just want to get away from them and go indoors, but I know I can’t do that, I can’t face turning my back on the creepy little fuckers.
“Alarick?” I say.
His voice comes from the phone and I clamp it to my ear to stop the kids hearing what he has to say. “’Sup?”
“You know what we were talking about earlier? Before I left for home?”
“Yeah, we talked about a lot of things, narrow it down,”
“B.E.K.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m already on my way. I think you have a serious case of ‘em but hold on, I’m not far. Keep ‘em talking.”
I nod like he could see me but I don’t terminate the call.
“So kids,” I say to them in a cheerful tone. “I suppose you have some agenda here?” The tone belies my abject terror. Throughout the evening, me and some of the guys had spent a few hours shooting the shit about every subject we could think up. Everything from the apocalypse to zoocryptophobia – that word was probably a made up name for it, but it covered a multitude of mythological animals – vampires, Yeti, B.E.K… Winding each other up, creating scenarios where we’d be face to face with one or another of the things we discuss, what we’d do in that situation.
In the cold light of day, discussing vampires - both the blood-sucking kind and the psychic kind - was cool, and when the discussion moved on to consider the similarities between vampires and B.E.K.s – Black Eyed Kids, the urban legend – it was still ok. Neither B.E.K.s nor vampires can cross a threshold without invitation. No one believes in them until they show up, in the dark, when you’re alone and unprepared.
I waited for the answer to my question. The kids didn’t confirm or deny an agenda. They seem to be discussing it though, they look like they’re deep in conversation again but silence reigns.
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I say.
The kids look at me with a sudden, jerky move of their heads, it turned my stomach, human necks just don’t move like that. Their movements remind me of the guy in Men In Black, the first movie. That first guy, the one that had the spaceship land on his property; the farmer. An alien steals his skin and can’t quite make the body work properly.
They look at me with an air of expectation, it’s the first time they actually resemble kids. I feel the urge to offer them a glass of sugar water and the thought half makes me want to giggle – that’s what the alien wanted when he took over the farmer’s body.
“If you answer all my questions before my friend gets here, I’ll let you in when he’s with me, ok?”
They nod in synch.
“OK, here we go. Are you guys vampires?”
They shake their heads.
“Aliens?”
They look at me but don’t move.
“OK I get the picture. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s ok.” I edge off toward my house.
The smaller kid holds up his hand as if to stop me. “Not don’t want to. Can’t,” he says.
“OK.” I stop, but don’t go back toward them.
“So, you’re here for a reason?”
“Yes,”
“What reason?”
Silence.
“Ah, ok. You want me to buy Girl Scout cookies?”
“No,” the bigger kid says.
“You collect souls,” I say.
That shocks them, they take a step back, in unison of course. It looks like I’ve hit them with a good question, one they never expected.
“Did you hear that, Alarick?” I say into the phone.
“I did. Keep them talking, I’m almost there.”
“To whom do you speak?” the smaller kid says.
“Who actually talks like that, kid?” I ask.
The kids look at each other in confusion.
Alarick shows up. I see him across the road. He’d deliberately followed my course home, thankfully.
“Hey!” he shouts. “Hey kids.”
They look at him for a split second before returning their attention to me.
Alarick arrives at my side and the relief I feel washes right over me. I feel like pissing my pants; the feeling that I’d been rescued is so strong.
“OK kids, let’s see what you’re made of,” Alarick says.
“Made of?” the bigger kid says.
“Yeah, I want to see if you’re Black Eyed Kids.”
“We don’t know what you mean.”
“The urban legend, Black Eyed Kids try to gain access to someone’s house so they can use the telephone device and scares the living shit out of the home owner. The thing is, there are a lot of tales about B.E.K.s that weren’t allowed in, but no stories about what happened if they were let in.” Alarick allows that piece of information to sink in before continuing, because the kids don’t seem so chatty all of a sudden.
“So, my theory is the B.E.K.s can’t come in unless they’re invited?”
No answer from the kids. I stage-whisper: “That could mean that’s right, but they can’t confirm.”
Alarick nods without taking his eyes off the B.E.K.s. “The B.E.K.s only show up where the home owner knows about them?”
No answer, but the kids look at each other in their silent conversation stance.
“They keep doing that, it’s freaky,” I say.
“You collect souls, don’t you?” Alarick says to the kids.
Still no reply, but Alarick isn’t taking silence for an answer this time. He reaches forward and pulls the hoodie from the head of the bigger kid.
The kid doesn’t pull back or react in any way resembling a normal, human kid. It – and I can confirm it was neither a he nor a she – it glares at Alarick and then at me. The eyes are completely black, including what should be the whites, and that shudder, the one that ran down my spine earlier? Well it skitters across every nerve ending in my body and causes my arms to jerk as the neurons react to the electrical impulses generated by the shudder. I guess I look like a manic puppet.
Alarick steps close to the kids. I try to reach him to pull him back, the kids change stance and look menacing now he’s discovered their intent.
He shakes his head in a gentle ‘no’ and got up close and personal to the kids.
“You may collect souls, but you’re not having his.”
They look from me to him then, it seems like they believe him and are no longer interested in me if they can’t have what they’d come for.
“Oh, you can’t have any of mine, either,” he says.
Wait, what? ‘Any of mine’ did he say?
He pushes his hoodie back and I realise I’ve never seen him without it up.
Alarick pushes the sleeves of his hoodie up to his elbows. He studies his arms for a moment and then reaches toward the kids. They stand mesmerised as his hands grasp their heads, palm on the forehead. The kids’ eyes flick from black, pupil-less eyes to normal and then back. The black leeches from their eyeballs and turns a dirty grey, then goes to lighter grey and opaque. When the kids crumple to the ground like two sets of empty clothing, Alarick closes his eyes, sighs in deep contentment, then studies his arms.
“There they are,” he says, pointing to a smattering of new freckles. “One set on each arm.”
“I never knew you were a Ginger,” I say. “So that’s not an urban myth either, you guys really do steal souls.”
Alarick grins. “See you at the next gathering,” he says. Then he pulls up his hood and stalks off into the rainy night.