March 8, 2024
My plans for an evening walk were ruined by a sudden onslaught of pollen, so I decided to hop on my treadmill instead. It’s set up in the sunroom, diagonal from a corner where Victim # 7 and Victim # 12 once appeared. As I began slowing down for my cooldown, I heard soft sobbing coming from that same corner. When I glanced over, I saw two faint shapes—a man and a woman.
I stepped off the treadmill, but before I could say anything, the woman spoke up, “Please, keep going. I miss the days when I could run; I miss it so much.” I gave her a kind smile, then walked over to the sofa and sat down, quietly inviting them to join me. They stayed where they were, though, still standing and holding hands. That’s when she started telling her story:
My last day alive is etched into me—every step of that winter jog, every moment leading up to the end. I had my Walkman strapped to my arm, my favorite songs drowning out the cold and the world around me. Music made me feel safe, like I was in my own little bubble.
But that bubble popped when a car slowed down next to me. A young guy leaned out the window and asked for directions. I was so caught up in the music and the rhythm of my steps that I didn’t even hear him at first. I had to pull my headphones off to catch what he was saying.
At first, it seemed normal enough. He asked if I wanted a ride, but when I said no, something in him snapped. Before I could react, he grabbed me—quick, violent, and overwhelming. One second, I was jogging along the side of the road, and the next, I was being shoved into the trunk of his car. My Walkman fell to the ground, the music cutting off abruptly, leaving a silence that made everything feel even more real, more terrifying.
He drove off but came back a few minutes later. I could hear him outside, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. He was looking for the Walkman. I guess it caught his eye when I dropped it. He picked it up, but he left the battery case and the batteries scattered on the street like they didn’t matter.
I didn’t know it then, but this wasn’t just some random act of violence. He wasn’t acting on his own. Candle Face—yes, her—had sent him. He was supposed to take me to some secluded spot in the woods, part of whatever twisted plan she had. But he didn’t follow through. He killed me instead, right there. Maybe he wanted control, or maybe he just couldn’t resist. Whatever his reason, he defied her, and that sealed his fate.
You see, Candle Face doesn’t tolerate disobedience. She came for him, too, and now he’s stuck here, just like me. She bound us together—literally. Our hands are fused, like some grotesque reminder of what he did to me. I can feel his presence every moment, and it’s unbearable. I hate him, but I’m trapped with him, and there’s no escape—not yet.
Ray, if you want to help, you need to find my Walkman. The battery case and the batteries—they’re still out there, somewhere along that lonely road where he grabbed me. Trace the path of my last run in the Georgetown area. Somewhere in that stretch of road, my body is waiting to be found. If you find it, maybe I can finally be free of him. Free of Candle Face.
Thank you for listening.
She offered a knowing smirk, thanked me for listening, and then slipped back into the portal, her killer following close behind—hand in hand.
Personal Note to My Readers
After they vanished from the sunroom, a thought settled in my mind. The young man, who orchestrated his own end without even realizing it, is now trapped with her in this ghostly realm—an ironic and somewhat fitting twist of fate. The room fell silent, and I couldn’t help but crack a small, dark smile at the notion of his shock and misery upon learning he’s bound to the very sentence he forced onto his victims.
That sense of amusement felt out of place but undeniably apt. As I replay the encounter in my head, I can’t help but feel that faint, hollow laugh in my chest. It isn’t a laugh of happiness, but rather a grim acceptance of the strange justice that keeps him tethered to the fate he imposed on her.
Yet my heart aches for her.
Key To Understanding
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I think I may know know who the female is. She might be Rachel Cooke. She went missing in Georgetown in January 2010 while she was on a jog near her parent's house. She was visiting her parents for Christmas break because she was a college student in California. If I remember correctly, people who lived near her parent's house reported seeing a car drive slowly around the area. This could be the guy who took her and he was looing for the Walkman. Reports say she had a pink Walkman and liked to run with it. But this all happened so long ago, I might be wrong around the details.