Some newspapers called him, “The Silent Stalker,” but most chose the name, “Demeyes.” It was a play on the word "demise," because the only thing anyone was certain of when it came to his appearance were his glowing yellow eyes. Though no one actually knew his true name, and still don’t, Demeyes was able to strike fear into anyone and everyone who was aware of his existence.
Demeyes was the most notorious serial killer the world had ever seen. Claiming over three-hundred-fifty known victims during the twenty years he was active, (and believed to have at least a hundred-fifty unknown), he was ruthless and intelligent. And it seemed no one was able to stop him.
Phone calls to the police about sightings of Demeyes came in frequently. A survivor of one of his attacks was called in to an interrogation by the FBI. She was sixteen years of age when Demeyes had attacked her, all alone in her house at 10:00 PM, on the 16th of July 1994. It was also one of the very few times Demeyes was caught. Her audio account of the events of that night is as follows:
[INTERVIEWER]: Now can you please give us your account of the events of that night Hailey?
[HAILEY]: I was getting ready for bed and my parents were due to come home in about half an hour. They’d been out for dinner that night which they rarely ever do because they’re so busy looking after me all the time. I’m an only child so I stayed up and watched some T.V. for a while, but then I got bored and went to bed.
[INTERVIEWER]: And when did you become aware that someone was in your house?
[HAILEY]: I turned out the lights, but then I heard something creaking on the floorboards outside my room. I chose to ignore it, but they kept getting louder and louder and suddenly my door was opening and I had no idea what to do. Then I saw his... his eyes... they were so bright... like... they were impossible. It was like they... weren’t real. They were glowing and distracting me from the knife in his hands. I kept staring as he... stabbed my leg... then my arm. I grabbed my lamp and smashed it on him and called the police. He was lying on the floor when they came... and his eyes... they didn’t... they don’t belong to him.
Many people believed that Hailey had gone crazy after the incident, or had been completely crippled with a form of PTSD. No one really knows, because Hailey unfortunately committed suicide shortly after this interview, and extensive psychological therapy was never an option for her. Whatever it was, Demeyes had certainly altered her way of thinking forever.
I wasn’t born at the time he was an active serial killer. I only know this information because my mother happened to be one of the police officers who had worked the case. He was the most frightening man she had ever had to deal with.
Despite managing to avoid police officers most of the time, men fitting his description exactly were brought into interrogation rooms a number of times. Demeyes would always sit in the interrogation room patiently, wearing a black cloak allowing only his yellow eyes to be seen. No one knew what his face looked like, and despite their best efforts Demeyes was never persuaded to remove his cloak.
They would question him for a long time, watching him sit there without moving, giving absolutely nothing away. He never squirmed, never looked uncomfortable, and never got angry. He would remain in his seat across the table from the interrogator, never speaking, and when the interrogator had to take his break, Demeyes would vanish.
I don’t mean he got up and walked out. I don’t mean he broke his hands and wiggled free of his handcuffs. I don’t mean he climbed out through a window. Demeyes was simply there one minute, and gone when the interrogator returned. And no one ever saw how he escaped. Other names began to take hold like “The Disappearing Delinquent” and “The Vanishing Villain”, but the one that always seemed to stick was “Demeyes”.
With over three-hundred-fifty known victims Demeyes was the most prolific serial killer the world had ever known, and had the highest amount of deaths that could be traced back to him. He always killed by slashing the main artery in the thigh of one leg, and the forearm on the opposite side of the body. He also removed the eyes of all of his victims and instead placed egg timers inside the empty sockets. Though no one knew much about him, and a solid profile could not be constructed, one thing was certain. Demeyes had to be stopped.
The only question that came to anyone’s mind when Demeyes was finally caught was where to put him. He had managed to slip away from every interrogator and FBI office he’d ever been in without leaving a trace, and putting him in prison would endanger the other criminals serving time there. They had to figure out a way to ensure that Demeyes would never be able to escape.
Many people were brought in to the operation as Demeyes was kept under constant surveillance. As long as someone was staring into his eyes, there was no way he could escape. After many scrapped plans and broken ideas one scientist thought he had come up with the perfect place to keep Demeyes away from the public and locked up for good. The only place he would never be able to escape. They were going to lock him away in people’s dreams.
A machine was constructed, though my mother obviously cannot remember its name or how it worked, it did the trick. Soon Demeyes was safely off the streets and locked away inside the dreams. He remains hidden underneath a hill in a park where it is always raining. On top of the hill is an enormous willow tree, unmistakably marking the spot where Demeyes will spend eternity being punished for his crimes. The hill underneath the willow tree comes to an abrupt stop where it ends in a sort of cliff face.
Jagged rocks jutting out from the face of the hill, and a stony path shrouded in mist mark the entrance to his cell. A rounded wooden door, with a small window no bigger than an average brick and striped with strong steel bars, sits proud and tall, guarding the entrance to the tiny compartment containing Demeyes. Behind that door lies another one made entirely of steel bars. Behind that a long and dark hallway leads to yet another door, but this one has no hinges, no latch, and no padlock. It cannot be opened with a key.
Behind that door sits Demeyes, enveloped with darkness and ever-quiet. It has been a massive effort on behalf of many collaborated governments to try and cover up the very existence of Demeyes, though some people still know a thing or two. And if you dig deep enough, the evidence is still there.
There is a rhyme that was made up about him at the time. I believe it goes something like this:
Two golden eyes, “Demeyes 'Demeyes,
Locked away behind closed eyes
Only in terrible dreams he lies
He never eats, never moves, never cries
In ever-lasting patience he lies,
Memories of three-hundred-fifty or more cries
Ready to take the next person’s life
Whoever is next will surely die
If you see him in your dreams
Never look him in the eyes
Or before you could ever scream
Your life ended at the hands of “Demeyes”
He holds you in his golden gaze
Though he gives no thanks or praise
For releasing him from his steel cage
And now not a single soul is safe...
You might’ve seen him in your dreams sometimes. I bet the description of his cell sounds familiar. At the age you are now you’re bound to have seen him. He sits patiently and never moves an inch. You see, I'm worried because I went to visit him in my dreams last night. I followed the stone path to the big wooden door and peered in through the little window, but I couldn’t see him. You didn’t look into his eyes, did you?