October 17, 2024
I find myself wrestling with the same painful question: how can I help the lost souls if I can’t identify them? This conflict feels especially sharp after a previous encounter, when the family and friends of another lost soul reached out, asking me to stop mentioning their loved one in my podcast. I ended the podcast out of respect for their wishes, yet the dilemma remains. And now, when a spirit like Victim # 42 reaches out, full of hope and sadness, it’s as though she believes I’m her only chance left. How can I honor both their requests—the living who need closure, and the dead who need a voice?
In her testimony a few nights ago, the spirit revealed that October 10 was the anniversary of her death and that her birthday had been a few days earlier. Dates like these are invaluable clues—critical markers that can link to missing persons reports or trace back through timelines, offering insights into identities that might otherwise remain hidden. Knowing this, I began searching for any missing persons who disappeared in Central Texas on October 10 and whose birthday was shortly before she went missing. It was a long shot, but the urgency in her voice and the importance of those dates left me no choice. Google led me to a listing on TheDoeNetwork that was unsettlingly similar—a woman who disappeared on October 10, 1992, with a birthday of October 7, 1967. The report even noted that she was last seen wearing a yellow shirt and had a scar "in the scalp area on her forehead," an uncanny match to the spirit’s description.
It felt like she’d finally been waiting for someone to make the connection. But can I be certain? Even if this spirit is the woman I found in that report, how can I pursue this without betraying her family’s need for peace? The spirits want to be known, but I want to protect the families they left behind.
I think of what it would be like to show up on this woman’s family’s doorstep and say, “Your loved one came to me one night, asking for help.” And then, how would I even begin to explain that she’s missing half of her skull? I’d be seen as a cruel stranger dredging up old wounds, and the family might look at me with horror, questioning my sanity. But the pain in that spirit’s eyes was unmistakable. She trusts me to be the bridge between her lost life and the peace she longs for. So, how do I honor that trust without betraying her family’s need for closure?
I can’t just ignore her. I can’t turn my back on the lost souls who come to me, now that my abilities are growing. But every time I think I’m making progress, every time I feel like I’m getting somewhere, I’m dragged back into the same helplessness. How can I help her if I’m stuck here, balancing between helping the dead and protecting the living?
I question if I’m really prepared for this work. Yes, my skills are improving; I’ve reached a point I once only dreamed of. But for what? To be bound by the same restrictions I had before, forever torn between protecting the families and my duty to the lost souls. I see now that I can identify them if I try hard enough. Yet, where does that leave me? Just as desperate as before, only now I know who they are, and I know that I can’t do anything with that knowledge.
I don’t know what to do, but I do know one thing: if that spirit truly is who I think she might be, I won’t give up. I can’t promise that I won’t struggle or stumble along the way, but I won’t stop trying to find a way to help her and all the others who wait in line to speak to me. I may be caught between two worlds, but if there’s even the slightest chance I can free her without causing more harm, I’ll find it.
But tonight, as I sit here, I feel more alone than ever.
Personal Note to My Readers
As I write this, I find myself struggling with a difficult decision. I believe I may have a name for this lost soul. But as you may have noticed, I haven’t shared her name. I keep circling back to the question: should I? Should I include her name, bringing her closer to the peace she seeks, or should I protect the families she left behind? I’d like to ask you: what do you think? Is helping the lost souls more important than respecting the wishes of the living? Or are the living, with their fragile balance between healing and memory, more deserving of protection? When a lost soul comes to me, I’m faced with their suffering, longing to be known, and desperation to reach someone who can listen and understand. They’re no longer part of our world, yet their connection to it remains powerful through me. The living, however, carry the grief, often silently. To honor both sides of this mission—to give peace to the dead without harming the living—feels like an impossible line to walk. If I share a name, it could reopen wounds, but if I don’t, I’m leaving a lost soul adrift, missing a piece of their story. It’s a question that I wrestle with daily, and I’m not sure I’ll ever fully answer. I appreciate any thoughts or guidance you can share on this subject. I’m grateful to have each of you beside me in this mission.
Key To Understanding
To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, 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 memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications.
To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door, please visit Amazon
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To Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One], please visit Amazon
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You should identify them. That's why they're going to you.