Black-Eyed Children, The (2025)

[bunniefuu]

Police department.

Hello, please help me,

my name is Lisa Caldwell.

I'm calling from

Prineville, Oregon.

Where in Prineville exactly?

Um, near the town from

its first bus stop.

My daughter...

My daughter,

Madeleine is missing.

She was not on the bus, I

don't know what happened.

Please try to calm

down, I'm here to help.

What exactly happened, ma'am?

How old is your daughter?

Ten.

She was in camp for a week and

she was supposed to

come home today, but

she's not here,

she never arrived.

I already called the camp,

they said she got on the bus.

Which camp are we

talking about, ma'am?

Saint Beatrice.

Yeah, Saint Beatrice.

Sunriver, Oregon.

Please, my little girl.

Ma'am. Ma'am, are you there?

Can you hear me?

Ma'am?

You have to tell me exactly what

you are doing to find my son,

okay?

Nothing has happened and

no one has said anything.

Sir, the investigation is

ongoing and we are doing

everything we can to find you

son and the others.

Bullshit, that's not enough!

I don't sleep, I've even moved

as close to the area as

possible.

I walk in the woods

every day and every night!

You know it's hard to talk about

without starting to theorize.

So we heard a lot of crying,

shouting and strangely enough

sometimes laughing, giggling.

They all sounded like children.

We found nothing, but

a few abandoned toys.

I thought it was all a

myth, you know, and then

I was walking my dog, Betsy,

when

three of them reappeared in

front of me, about fifty yards

away.

At precise distances

from each other.

Betsy just kept

barking and barking

and I

I was literally shaking.

I was reaching in my pocket for

my cell phone, but it wouldn't

work at all, didn't even turn

on.

When I looked back at

them, they were gone.

In a blink of an eye.

Have you found anything, Sir?

Nothing.

It's empty.

There's no card in it.

We'll look around the house.

Leave that to me.

Understood, Sir.

Hello! My name is

Claire Russell.

Um...

This is Claire Russell.

I study child psychology at the

Oregon Health and Science

University.

This is my second year.

And...

One of my um...

One of my exam

requirements is to...

So, I'm going to work on a case

study video by the end of the

year.

It's been my third

recording so far.

And as I see it's not getting

much better so it will be a

fourth one, I can see it now.

Should I do it later maybe?

Okay.

Take four.

So I decided to take a job where

I could be close to little kids

and.

I'm gonna work in

a children's camp.

Yeah.

I'm sure it's gonna

be very exciting.

Although sometimes I can

barely even take care of myself.

Okay, I think I'll cut this

out before anyone finds out.

In terms of the camp, the

majority of the children are

orphans or

come from families where

they cannot offer to travel.

I've worked in a place

like this before.

Helping people in

need. In a kitchen.

I remember

a little girl.

I will never forget

the look in her eyes.

And the way she stood

in front of me with the tray.

Sometimes she'd turn up.

A very thin and little girl.

And that day she was

queuing for the third time, of

course she was very hungry, but

that I found it almost strange.

After her third round.

I ran out from the counter

and I saw that

there were two empty plates

next to her little brother.

And she just started to eat.

I think I can partly thank to

that little girl that I ended up

in this field.

And I've always wanted to work

in a place where I could help

them, so.

I'm very happy for

this opportunity.

The journey is quite

long, nearly four hours.

I had to send them a video

introduction and they said

they'd call me back, but then

they didn't call me back.

I just got an email that I got

the job and when I could start.

I've tried to call them,

but they never answered.

Maybe they'll hire me as a

telephone operator after all, it

wouldn't hurt them.

The last thing I needed.

Hi Junebug.

At first I thought I'd send you

an email, but these keyboards

are getting smaller and smaller.

And I couldn't reach

on your phone either.

Um, I don't have much time.

I've got an important case I

need to be working on, but

somehow all messages to you end

up here.

Look.

Junebug, I just want

to say I'm sorry.

Things went wrong.

Somewhere.

Seems strange to say it

like this, through messages.

I've sent you some money,

I would like you to use it.

And seeing as we are into

unsolicited advice right now

perhaps you shouldn't

embark on such a journey.

The money should

cover several months

of your expenses,

not to mention.

I have to go.

Think carefully about

what I've just said.

And please

let's talk sometime.

Take care.

Hey, it's me.

I told you, John, I

don't want your money.

Do you hear what I'm saying?

I don't want your money.

Screw your money!

That's the last thing

I've ever needed.

And screw you!

Screw you for leaving us.

For being a cowardly piece of

sh*t to come to Mum's funeral,

screw your g*dd*mn checks, your

sneaks.

Screw my childhood,

you son of a b*tch!

And if you've never been able to

be present in my life, then be

so kind as to get out of it for

good.

As well as my emails, since I

never told anybody where I was

planning to go, so I guess

you've been digging there too.

Stop calling me.

Nothing?

I don't know what

happened, it just went off.

And the surprise winner

in the best film category is...

Hermit.

Based on the true life tale

of Christopher Thomas Knight

who lived completely isolated

in the forest for three decades.

Andrew Beenie took home the best

actor award for his lead role in

the film.

Meanwhile Planet Hope, featuring

the world famous primatologist

Jane Goodall won in the best

international documentary

category.

We also have a winner, a

local winner to celebrate.

Our very own Val

Harvester, who directed

this morning's strange,

unpredicted meteor shower caused

power outages in many parts of

the city

but several people reported

electrical discharges, which

were also attributed to this

phenomenon.

As far as we've been informed,

they have begun to rectify the

problems and are asking for the

public's patience.

In any case, it is a rather

strange phenomenon, as

camelopardalids have already

visited the Earth in late

and we will not have the chance

to see a similar phenomenon

until March next year.

However, the natural light from

the moon's phase could further

complicate the...

We think we're alone, but

we're far from being alone.

If only a tenth of all those

stories, documents, even

recordings are true

it's worth wondering

if we might be wrong.

What I'm trying to say is it's

wrong to conclude, what's more,

it's pure arrogance, to think

that we are the only one in the

I've just arrived here.

Let's look around, shall we?

Okay, let's go.

They don't seem to be

waiting for me, huh?

You're going to think I'm stupid

but there's this funny feeling.

A feeling that I've

been here before.

Even though I'm sure I haven't.

Yet everything

seems so familiar.

Hello?

Is anyone here?

This is getting

to be quite funny.

Hello?

Nothing.

Nothing and no one.

What the hell is that?

Poor little guy.

Where the hell is everyone?

Hello, I'm here.

Okay.

What the f*ck has

happened here, seriously?

This is not funny at all.

What is that?

This poor thing.

I bet nobody played with you.

Wakey-wakey, little baby.

Oh, my god.

I love you.

Do you wanna be my friend?

Oh, at last, it's Claire

Russell, may I speak with Mr.

Donahue, please?

I'm the new camp counselor,

I've just arrived here.

We've been waiting

for you, Claire.

What? Hello?

Hello, can you hear me?

Surprise.

Okay.

Hello, anyone here?

Why should you work, huh?

Of course.

Magnificent.

I'm in one of the

rooms downstairs.

Okay.

Drawings on the wall, so there

must have been someone here.

Wow.

It's not exactly I was

drawing when I was a kid.

What the hell just

happened here?

Hello?

Anyone upstairs?

My God.

Nobody's here.

Oh, my God.

Holy sh*t.

Why are the tables set?

This place gives me the creeps.

Oh, yes.

Great.

What's this?

I found some books.

And an ugly yellow

phone, is anyone missing it?

What the hell?

What?

How can you still work?

No.

It's...

It can't be, it's

just impossible.

It's just my number in it.

It's the director's phone.

It has to have more than

one phone number on this list.

Okay.

Okay everybody, come in

out, I'm sick of your bullshit!

Okay, okay.

You had me, now we

can wrap this up!

Okay.

It has to be

something that makes

me forward, anything.

Names.

Okay.

Okay, okay, that's a start.

Hallo?

Um, hello, my name

is Claire Russell.

I'm calling from Camp St.

Beatrice, I'm one of camp

counselors here,

I have in front of me an

application form for an Emily

Stevenson, her contact had this

number.

Who am I speaking to?

My name is Claire Russell and

I'm calling from Camp St.

Beatrice, looking for a contact

for Emily Stevenson.

I'm sorry, but is this

some kind of joke?

No, it's not, I'm

I just... it's me.

Excuse me?

I am Emily Stevenson,

you are talking to me.

There must be some mistake.

I have the girl's application

form in front of me, and for

some inexplicable reason, I'm

here, completely alone at the

There has been almost 25

years since I've been there.

I must have been nine,

maybe ten years old.

No, no, no, there must

be a misunderstanding.

Camp St. Beatrice, 2001.

I remember my father

died a month later.

Um, I'm very sorry for your

loss, but I still don't

understand.

How could I have reached anyone

on a phone number that was

active over twenty years ago?

That's... that

would be impossible.

My mother never changed it.

I'm here with her.

I live with her,

in our family home.

She needs full time supervision.

I lost my father many years ago.

I have to take care of my

mother as best as I can.

I understand.

What did you say your name was?

Claire. Claire Russell.

It's strange.

You know my mother was diagnosed

with frontotemporal dementia.

I'm slowly but surely

losing her too.

I knew my mother wasn't

conscious, but...

She repeatedly mumbled questions

about whether I knew a woman

named Claire

and whether she

called me already.

What are you talking about?

So my first question

still applies.

Is this a joke?

This is madness.

Something is

very, very wrong here.

Hello, this is Claire Russell,

I'm calling from St. Beatrice

Camp.

I'm looking for the contact for

Sophia Jasperson, is this the

right number?

Has she been found?

I'm sorry, but I

don't understand.

I'm Peter Jasperson,

Sophie's father.

Have you found her?

I'm sorry, I just.

- I just work here, there's

nobody... - Are you from the

police?

Are you investigating

my daughter's case?

No, no, I just started today

here at St. Beatrice as a camp

counselor, I work here.

You don't mean to tell me

they've reopened that bloody

place after what happened to my

daughter.

And the others.

No, I... there seems to be some

misunderstanding. I got a job

here, or

at least I thought I did, but

there's not a single soul here.

Then you better get out of

that place as soon as possible.

What happened to your daughter?

It's been fifteen years now.

The camp was over and she was

supposed to come home by bus.

I was working that day, I

couldn't pick her up, but

she never got on that bus.

The police combed the whole

area, or so they said, but after

a while I didn't believe them.

They were hiding something.

I spent weeks out there

trying to find my daughter.

A few years after the incident,

it turned out that Sophie wasn't

the only one missing in the

area.

We tried to work together, even

paid for a lawyer, but some of

us couldn't stand the

uncertainty any longer.

And then there were others who,

as awful as it is to say, seemed

resigned to the whole thing.

That their child would

never come home again.

That's impossible.

You know what's really weird?

What?

I never found the camp again.

After Sophie disappeared, I wore

out my feet, but the camp...

It was like it

vanished into thin air.

I knew where I took my daughter,

I drove her there, it...

It's impossible that I

couldn't find the place again.

I even had a word with

the camp director.

Who was the camp

director at that time?

Donahue.

It can't be.

I'll never forget his name.

He avoided my eyes

when I left Sophie there.

Like... like he was

afraid of something.

Or someone.

Did you see him

after the incident?

I had every desire to, as did

the other parents, but no matter

how hard we tried,

we never found him again.

If you're there... in St.

Beatrice, you've really got

to...

Oh, my God.

Wow.

It may be another warning sign

to get the hell out of here.

No.

Come on.

Come on!

f*ck me.

f*ck!

Are you from the camp, guys?

What the children of

the corn is going on here?

Hey!

Hey, it's not good

to be here, come in.

Hey, guys!

For the love of f*ck.

Stop doing this right now!

This is not a good way to start

our relationship, I'm telling

you.

Enough from the

hide-and-seek, okay?

You won, but that's it!

It's not funny.

You have to obey me,

so come out right now!

Oh, sh*t.

You have exactly two

minutes to come in!

Come on in, will you?

They're hiding and watching,

just wait and see.

Oh, there are monsters,

for you,

and me.

Maybe not the best lullaby.

But most of my

children loved it.

I first told that old

nursery rhyme in 1988

after spending five years with

building St. Beatrice with my

own hands.

They were all my children.

After my wife Beatrice died

they were all I had left.

And I aimed to make those

children feel at home here.

Give them a sense of belonging

somewhere, even it was only for

a short time.

They loved being here.

Playing, making friends,

being in the nature.

I was proud of what

this place had become.

Then

one cold morning.

I couldn't sleep.

So, I was going

out onto the porch.

When I saw one of

the little girls

coming out of the woods.

So thin, so frail.

I can see her right now.

Just like she was

standing in front of me.

She apologized for disobeying,

going into the woods at night.

Agatha.

I'll never forget her name.

Or the look she

gave me that night.

Her eyes were black.

Completely empty.

I asked her where she'd been.

What happened to her.

She just said...

She said she met

monsters in the woods.

Her knees and arms were bruised.

So I went inside to get a piece

of cloth and some warm water.

To clean her wounds, but

when I came back she was gone.

I called the police right away.

But the police didn't come.

Strange people came instead.

After a while I started to

call them the untouchables.

They said everything

was just fine.

The camp should just keep

running and they would take care

of their

business.

They made me part

of the whole thing.

I tried to run away, I did!

But they tracked me

down, took me back.

They told me to do my job.

Told me to run the camp just

like nothing ever happened.

Then

they started experimenting.

Seventeen children disappeared.

They made sure nothing leaked.

No investigation, no press.

Those who were desperate to find

their children were silenced.

Sooner or later.

In one way or another.

Although the untouchables didn't

expect for some of the children

to reappear.

There's something

about this place.

It goes beyond all

we're able to understand.

I think Agatha found something

that could answer

everything.

I tried to look for it.

But I couldn't find it.

Just small clues.

Strange lights in the sky.

The suffocating

atmosphere of the woods.

Almost envelopes you.

Makes you feel

there's no escape.

Occasional knock on

the door or window.

Children's voices

in the darkness.

And an unknown gateway

that may have been

open for decades.

If a tribe

isolated from the world

finds gold in the river

what to them is the

gold shiny in the sieve

when what they value most is

the water in which is washed.

I believe it exists.

Just as I believe not

all of us can see it.

It's waiting to be found.

Right in front of us.

But no one's been looking

hard enough to see it.

I think St. Beatrice

is a gateway

to those secrets.

Decades have passed.

It would be foolish to think

that those children will always

remain children.

And God have mercy on us if they

all decide to turn against us

one day.

We can't be so arrogant

to think we can

control everything.

And I can't be so arrogant as to

think that I can escape the

consequences of not protecting

my children.

I let them down.

There are so many secrets

waiting for you, Claire Russell.

There's a reason you're here.

I was too cowardly to

look them in the eye.

To confront the untouchables.

You can't hide like I did.

The Beatrice was my life.

And now.

I'm taking what's left of it.

Who's there?

Stay right there!

Get out of here, get

the f*ck out of here!

Hallo?

Please let us in.

No f*cking way.

What do you want from me, huh?

We need you to come with us.

- We need your help.

- My help?!

What could I

possibly do to help?

You should help me

get out of this place.

What the hell happened here?

Don't ask a question

you know the answer to.

I don't know the answer.

So you tell me.

Agatha.

Every morning, right, Claire?

It's in you.

The sadness.

The fear.

And some kind of

strange feeling.

What?

A feeling that everything

has led you here.

You've been here before.

No I haven't.

You saw the gateway.

You stepped through it for a

moment when you were here as a

child.

You just erased that memory.

But deep down you know

you don't belong here.

This world has nothing

left to give you.

We cannot take you with

us, it has to be your choice.

I'll go with you to the gateway.

If we play hide-and-seek first.

Deal?

I used to love this

game when I was a kid.

It was my favorite one.

I'll go with you,

but first, we play.

Let's play.

Okay.

Count to fifty.

But don't cheat,

cover your eyes.

And count to fifty.

Oh, sh*t!

Off you go!

My eyes.

You found me.

Her mother and I

cooked her favourite.

She didn't have a phone.

I just tried to call

the camp over and over.

But all I heard was

a beeping sound.

I just.

I just wish I hadn't

let her go, you know.

Our family is not rich, if it

were, there would be a whole

army looking for those kids.

Without it, all we can do is sit

back and waiting for something

to happen.

You are totally in the dark,

there's not a bloody suspect.

And everyone who

worked in the camp is gone.

Come on, you think

I'm f*cking stupid?

Do you think all the

parents are idiots?

This is far more than fiction

or something you can find

hundreds of times on the

internet.

The really big mysteries always

remain in the background, okay?

They deliberately

don't talk about it

and anyone who gets even a

little bit close to the case is

f*cked!

I chose you to take

charge for a reason.

Somewhere deep down I

knew this would happen.

I can count on one hand the

number of times she's listened

to me.

She was seven when

I adopted her.

Her father abandoned

her when she was born.

And then was

found dead in a ditch with a

needle in his hand not long

after.

I know Claire has been to the

other side before, when she was

a little child.

Her mother made her go to every

camp she could, just so she

wouldn't be home.

This way proved to be the most

effective one for me to get to

the

bottom of all of this.

The doctors said she

had about a year to live.

With successful treatment, it

could probably have been pushed

up to three years.

What those children know can

fundamentally change everything

we humans know or are even

capable of comprehending.

Keep researching and keep the

authorities and any overzealous

parents or hacks away from the

camp.

Find her.

If you can track her down,

you'll find the children too.

Sir, I think...

Do I look like someone

who cares what you think?

It's an order.

Sweep the area around the camp.

If you've done that,

sweep the woods.

And then the whole

g*dd*mn state.

I'll be there

tomorrow.

I think St. Beatrice

is a gateway to those secrets.

Decades have passed.

It would be foolish to think

that those children always

remain

children.

And God have mercy on us if they

all decide to turn against us

one day.