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  • Writer's pictureArthur Mills

Candle Face Victim #31: Crystal’s Tale from the Shadows

Candle Face Victim #31: Crystal’s Tale from the Shadows

May 24, 2024


I made a big mistake. I tried to sleep on the bed upstairs. This usually doesn’t end well for me because sleeping flat, either on my stomach or back, is a recipe for a major vertigo attack that will plague me for several days. That’s precisely what happened last night. Just as the room started to spin, the shadows stayed still. A female stepped out of the shadowy portal and stood motionless while the rest of the room spun around her. She began her story as I tried to concentrate, knowing my vertigo attack would undoubtedly distract me from much of her testimony. Here’s her story:


I worked the corners of North Austin and, at times, downtown. I was a good prostitute; people would ask for me by my street name, Crystal. I was also known to be rough and tough, and I wouldn’t take crap from any man. Try to rip me off, and I would punch, scratch, and kick until the son-of-a-bitch would pay up.
One day, a man drove up and told me to get in. After a few minutes of dealing, I agreed, and we went to a secluded spot to seal the deal. He became a regular, maybe once every week, sometimes more often. He was quiet at first, but as we got more comfortable with each other, we would talk about life in general. He started talking about saving me and making me his wife. He wasn’t the first person to say this. I knew this was when things started to get dangerous. I didn’t want him to think I belonged to him, and I definitely didn’t need a savior. But I needed the money, so I played along.
One day, he didn’t want to pay me because he said I was his girl. When I mentioned that if he wanted to get laid, I needed to get paid, he hit me across my face. This wasn’t the first time I got hit. I knew what to do. I bit him on his right cheek and punched him, and I got away. A few days later, he drove by and apologized, saying it was the drugs in his system that made him do it.
He looked at me with those puppy eyes, so I got into his truck. He drove me to our spot off the highway. I did my job, and he paid me. We continued this weekly for about two months. He pulled up next to me one day, and I got in. After doing the deed, we sat there talking like we used to. He brought up the story of Candle Face, the demon you named. He said he’s a disciple of hers, responsible for spreading her word and bringing her anyone who doesn’t believe in her. I asked what happens to those who don’t believe. He said Candle Face will deal with them individually. I just laughed, and eventually, we changed the subject. However, as weeks passed, he wouldn’t change the subject; he kept asking me to help him spread the word about her and asked me to tell my friends about her. I would refuse, saying I just don’t believe in ghosts.
One day, he asked me if I believed in Candle Face, and I went off on him. I got so tired of him asking me that I yelled at him and said no. I attempted to open the door, but he gripped my left arm and held me inside. I punched him with my right hand, but it barely landed. However, his punch to my face did land. He climbed on top of me and started to choke me with his thumbs squarely on my neck. I knew this was going to be different from the other beatings from my johns. I tried to scratch him but couldn’t reach his face. I tried to grab his hands and pry them off my neck, but to no use; he was just too strong. Right before passing out, he stopped and laughed. He asked, “What’s wrong? All the other girls like it.” He then continued to punch my face a few times and then went back to choking me. This choking and punching pattern continued until I just couldn’t fight or care anymore. He asked me, “Are you ready to believe?” I couldn’t answer, but the answer was no. He took to my neck one final time, and the blackness overtook me.
The second my life drained from my body, I appeared in a place filled with other souls. Shadows surrounded me, taller and skinnier than humans, gliding a foot or two above the ground. They grabbed me and told me that my job in death would be the same in life – to entertain. I fell to my knees, which stuck to the ground. A shadow pushed me forward. My forearms hit the ground, and they, too, stuck to the ground. One of the shadows said, “Now that’s the position you will remain in for eternity.” Other shadows formed two lines, one in front of me and the other behind me.
“Ray, I, um, I mean, we need your help. Please save us from this hell. You are the only one who can help us. You’re spending too much attention on the wrong things.”
I asked, “What can I do differently?” before realizing I had broken Candle Face’s rule of not asking questions. I felt my heart sink, but she answered.
“Read and reread our testimonies. There are more clues in the testimonies. You must find them. You were chosen for a reason. All you have to do is…” she said in a hurry, but a huge shadow figure appeared out of the portal. It had elongated limbs, and its eyes glowed a sickly yellow. The figure grabbed her by the neck with clawed hands, lifting her off the ground. She struggled, her form flickering and distorting.
The shadow looked at me and said in a voice that was both a whisper and a roar, “You were warned.” Its breath was hot and foul, burning my skin and lungs. It then yanked her back through the portal with a force that made the air ripple and crack. As she was pulled through, her screams were sharp and piercing, echoing around me and mingling with the cries of other tormented souls. I was left alone, my mind racing with the cryptic message she left behind.

Personal Note to My Readers


The testimonies of the spirits who visit me, filled with hidden messages, swirled in my thoughts. As suspected, the lost souls are providing names now. This is the second lost soul who mentioned a name, but this time, the lost soul mentioned her own street name, “Crystal.” I realized deciphering these hidden messages might be the key to their salvation. I need to review all the previous testimonies more thoroughly, searching for any clues that Candle Face’s victims had left behind. This intricate puzzle could be my path to uncovering the truth and perhaps freeing the tormented lost souls, including my own.

 

Key To Understanding

To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this article, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door, inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The book provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this article might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this article’s content and implications.


To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door, please visit Amazon


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1 Comment


Guest
Jun 04

Such bullshit!

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