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  • Writer's pictureArthur Mills

Candle Face Victim #10: The Devil’s Mark - The Sign of Rebellion

Candle Face Victim #10: The Devil’s Mark - The Sign of Rebellion

Candle Face Victim # 10

December 30, 2023


Last night, I once again found myself sleeping on the couch. As is my custom, I left a light on, its glow casting a perfect shadow in the distant corner, serving as a welcoming beacon for any visitors. True to my hopes, a spirit materialized just as I drifted into slumber. This spirit, however, radiated anger rather than the usual sorrow. She keenly surveyed my living room, seemingly searching for someone else in my company. Upon realizing my solitude, she approached yet remained shrouded in the shadows, maintaining enough distance to obscure her features from my view. Here’s her story:

On a swelteringly hot night, I first learned about Candle Face, feeling as if I were draped in ten heavy jackets. Our group regularly gathered at an old café each evening, frequented by a few aimless wanderers. We were engrossed in casual conversation when the creepy story of Candle Face crept into our discussion. My friends depicted it as a vengeful, terrifying demon, but I scoffed, showing off my devil tattoo on my butt as a symbol of my disdain for such ghostly stories. It was my small act of rebellion.
As weeks morphed into months, Candle Face ceased to be mere hearsay. She invaded my dreams, hissing and murmuring, urging me to kill for her, to kill non-believers. I consistently refused, which seemed to amuse her, as if it were all a twisted game.
My friends noticed my deteriorating state but were unaware of the nightmarish visions. They expressed concern, urging me to seek help, but I refrained, not wanting to alarm them further.
However, the dreams intensified. One night, Candle Face yanked me from my bed into a shadowy land. Amidst this pain and terror, I was chilled to the bone by a haunting vision: my friends’ faces, partially obscured in darkness, uttering words that seemed to empower Candle Face as if they were collaborators in this nightmare. I began to suspect their concern was a façade, a means to enjoy my unraveling.
The next day, I joined them at the café, pretending normalcy while observing their conversations. They spoke of Candle Face with familiarity, hinting at a deeper involvement.
I realized they had entangled me in this twisted plot, possibly hoping I would join their macabre circle. My resistance was an unforeseen complication for them.
There I sat, sipping my cocktail, recognizing the hollowness behind their smiles reminiscent of the ghost stories I once ridiculed. I braced myself for what was to come, betrayed by those I considered friends.
That night, as I faced the encroaching shadows and Candle Face's menacing grin proclaiming my imminent encounter with the actual devil, I laughed. The real wickedness, I realized, resided not in demons but in those who walked in daylight under the guise of friendship.
As the shadows consumed me, my laughter echoed, a testament to the realization that the most terrifying horrors are often concealed in plain sight.
In the café, my vacant seat stood as a silent reminder. Those I thought were my friends mourned the loss of the girl who never believed in Candle Face, oblivious to their own role in sealing my fate.

After sharing her story, she gave a forced smile and an uneasy laugh before disappearing into the shadows. Left alone, I sat immersed in thought, reflecting on her words. Her story, marked by a theme of betrayal overpowering friendship, left me questioning: does fear truly have a deeper impact than the bonds of camaraderie? Her experience suggested that fear might overshadow trust and connection in the complex interplay of human emotions, prompting a reevaluation of the dynamics between fear and friendship—even Candle Face talks of betrayal. I have a lot to learn.


Personal Note to My Readers


Notably, during this encounter, I exerted more effort to discern her words and attempted to peer through the shadows more intently than with previous visitors. My goal was to get a clearer description of her. However, she seemed aware of my intensified scrutiny; she continuously moved deeper into the shadows, eluding my gaze. Her annoyance was very noticeable, yet she continued to speak. After she concluded her testimony, I realized that my newfound approach of cautious engagement with these spirits might be counterproductive. Her behavior suggested she sensed my altered strategy. I suspect she had more to share, but my tactics may have prematurely ended our interaction. Moving forward, I need to refine my approach, a challenging prospect given that I'm navigating this alone.

 

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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