December 30, 2023
Last night, I slept on the couch again. As usual, I left a light on, letting it cast that familiar shadow in the far corner—a kind of beacon for my nocturnal visitors. This time, a spirit showed up right as I was dozing off. Unlike others before her, she radiated anger rather than sadness. She looked around my living room, almost as if expecting someone else to be there. When she realized I was alone, she came closer but stayed in the shadows, keeping just enough distance to hide her face.
Here’s her story:
It was one of those sweltering nights when the air feels heavy, like you’re wearing layers of jackets you can’t take off. Our group always gathered at this old café. We’d talk for hours about anything and everything, but that night, someone brought up Candle Face.
My friends described her as this terrifying, vengeful ghost. I didn’t buy it. To prove how little I cared, I showed off my devil tattoo—it’s on my butt, a private little rebellion against stories I found ridiculous. They laughed, and so did I. It felt harmless at the time.
But as the weeks turned into months, Candle Face stopped being just a story. She started creeping into my dreams. At first, it was faint voices and hisses, her voice twisting through the edges of my mind. Then she began speaking to me, urging me to kill for her, to target non-believers. I refused every time. It seemed to amuse her, like my resistance was just part of her game.
My friends noticed something was off. They told me I seemed distant, distracted. “You should talk to someone,” they said, their concern genuine—or so I thought. I didn’t tell them about the dreams. I didn’t want to scare them, and I wasn’t ready to admit how scared I was myself.
Then the dreams escalated. One night, Candle Face pulled me from my bed into the shadows. The air was hot, and every movement felt like dragging through water. In the dim light, I saw faces—my friends’ faces. They weren’t clear, but I could hear them speaking, their words feeding Candle Face’s presence, making her stronger. It hit me like a punch: they were part of this.
The next day, I went to the café as usual, but everything felt different. I watched them closely, listening to the way they talked about Candle Face. They knew too much, spoke too easily about things that felt too specific. Their smiles felt hollow, their words rehearsed. I realized then that I wasn’t just a bystander. I was part of their plan, whether I liked it or not.
That night, Candle Face came for me again. She was more vivid than ever. “Are you ready to meet the devil?” she asked.
I laughed in her face. “The devil’s not half as scary as the friends who betrayed me,” I said.
As the shadows closed in around me, her grin widened. My laughter echoed, defiant and hollow, as I disappeared into her lair.
-----
The next day, my seat at the café was empty. My friends—if I can even call them that—pretended to mourn, but I could see the cracks in their facade. They knew what had happened. They had sealed my fate, and now they were left to live with it.
After she finished telling her story, she gave me a forced smile and let out a nervous laugh before slipping back into the portal. Left on my own, I sat there, replaying her words in my mind. Her experience was steeped in betrayal—how it can outweigh friendship—and it got me thinking: does fear really carry more weight than loyalty? Even Candle Face has mentioned betrayal. Clearly, I still have a lot to learn.
Personal Note to My Readers
During this encounter, I tried harder than usual to understand her words and catch a better glimpse of her. I was hoping to see her features more clearly, to understand her story on a deeper level. But she seemed to notice my extra attention and kept moving deeper into the shadows, staying out of sight.
Her reaction made it clear she sensed the change in how I engaged with her, and I suspect it cut our conversation short. Moving forward, I’ll need to rethink my approach. These spirits are sharing something deeply personal and painful, and I have to be careful not to push them away.
Navigating these encounters alone isn’t easy, but each one teaches me something new. I just hope I’m learning fast enough to truly help them.
Key To Understanding
Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One]
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