March 18, 2024
I’d had enough of crashing on the couch, so I made my way upstairs to sleep in a real bed. As I climbed the steps, I noticed the faint silhouette of a man standing in the bedroom. Unsure if he might get aggressive like some spirits have in the past, I edged forward, carefully pushing the door open wider. He looked about as wary as I felt, which put me somewhat at ease. I slipped inside and leaned against the wall in silence. Interpreting my quiet as a sign to proceed, he began to speak.
Every city has its share of stories, and Austin’s no different. I thought I knew them all, but Candle Face? She was just another one of those urban legends to me—until she wasn’t.
I wasn’t much for smooth walking after the accident. My limp made sure of that, and it wasn’t just my leg that felt broken—half of me never fully woke up after the crash. I’d mutter to myself sometimes, just to remind myself I was still here, still alive.
Most nights, you’d find me downtown, hanging around the edges of all the action. I never felt like I belonged, but watching the energy and the people—it was enough to keep me going. That’s where I met her, my ‘Lady Friend.’ That’s what she liked me to call her. She had this laugh, warm but sharp, like it could cut you if you weren’t careful.
She was obsessed with the stories that gave this city its pulse, especially the one about Candle Face. She’d light up when she talked about it, her eyes practically glowing as she told me about the woods in northwest Austin. How there was something out there—a creature with a face like melted wax and fire in its eyes, hunting down the doubters.
“You don’t believe, do you?” she’d ask, teasing, but with a seriousness underneath.
I’d just laugh and shake my head. “Nope. I believe in what I can see, what I can touch. Stories are just that—stories.”
That answer never sat well with her.
One night she took my arm and pulled me away from the comfort of downtown. We caught a cab out to the northwest side of town, and then she led me on foot into the woods. She didn’t say much, but the way she gripped my arm told me this wasn’t a stroll for fun.
“Why are we here?” I asked, my voice already shaky.
She turned to me and smiled. “You’ll see. I’m going to show you something real. Then you’ll believe.”
The trees closed in around us, the trail getting tighter with every step, like it was watching us. Like it was waiting.
We came to a creek. The water was dark and still, like it didn’t want to move. That’s when I saw her—Candle Face.
She stepped out of the tree line like she’d been there all along, her face twisted into this horrifying mask of melted wax. Her eyes burned like candles, dim but alive. She reached for me with a hand that shouldn’t have been solid but was. I tried to pull back, but it was too late.
“Thank you,” Candle Face said to my Lady Friend, her voice like the rustling of dead leaves in the wind.
And then my Lady Friend laughed, this wild, unhinged laugh that didn’t sound like her at all. “You should have believed,” she said.
I panicked, trying to yank my hand free, but Candle Face had me. My limp made it impossible to run, and she dragged me deeper into the trees. The trees seemed to laugh along with my Lady Friend, their branches closing in, blocking out everything but the sound of my own terror.
The pain in my leg burned as I stumbled, but it wasn’t just my body hurting. It was the betrayal, the realization that my Lady Friend—this person I thought I knew—had fed me to her monster. Candle Face wasn’t a myth. She was as real as the cold fear that wrapped around my chest, as real as the ache in my useless leg.
As we moved deeper into the forest, Candle Face’s eyes dimmed, like she was satisfied. Her voice, low: “Belief is the beginning and the end. Only when you believe do you truly see.”
And I saw. I saw everything in that final moment.
The spirit began reaching out his right hand but quickly withdrew it while glancing back toward the portal as if he knew he had made a mistake. I didn’t push the issue. I thanked him for his time and told him I’d try to help him. He looked at me surprisingly, like he didn’t know I could respond. He winked and limped back into the shadows of my bedroom.
Personal Note to My Readers
It looks like I’ve started speaking directly with the lost souls. This might be the second or third time I’ve done so. Whenever they tell their stories, I just take in what they say—no questions yet. Once they’re gone, I wonder why I can’t bring myself to ask them anything. With time, I hope that changes. I really want to ask them questions, but right now, I just can’t.
This situation makes me think of my childhood confrontations with Candle Face. At first, she got into the house through unlocked doors, so I made sure to lock them. Then she found open windows, so I closed and locked those. My family teased me for it, but I kept doing it. Eventually, I realized I could control some aspects of my dreams. In one encounter, I saw Candle Face outside a window trying to open it. Even though I knew I was dreaming, I rushed to lock the window, and right after that, she moved on to another one. By staying one step ahead—flying around and locking each window—I managed to stop her from getting in. It ended in a huge showdown once I figured out how to shape the dream. I’m hoping I’ll reach a similar point with these visits from lost souls. I have so many questions waiting to be asked.
Key To Understanding
Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One]
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