Candle Face Victim # 16
March 1, 2024
I used to settle in bed early each night in anticipation of meeting a lost soul. Yet, their patience with me has worn thin, with some resorting to violence. The anticipation of their visits no longer excites me, but I recognize my obligation to assist them despite the potential perils their presence entails. This evening, the garage door raised as I was busying myself in my garage. The first thing to materialize was a pair of legs, followed by a bluish mini skirt and a snug white t-shirt crowned with flowing blond hair. This apparition wouldn’t wait for sleep to seek me out; she demanded my attention immediately. As she entered, the garage door shut on its own behind her.
When she began to speak, I interrupted, “May I ask you something?” Her stunned expression mirrored my surprise at finding my voice. I verbally communicated with one of my nocturnal visitors for the first time. I had managed to attempt physical contact in the past, but they always retreated. “I cannot answer questions,” she uttered in a frightened, evasive tone. Understanding the suffering that awaited her upon returning to the darkness, I chose not to press further. “OK,” I replied. She then recounted her story, pacing the garage as she spoke.
Life as a waitress on Sixth Street in Austin had always been an eclectic mix of vibrant nightlife and intriguing stories. Among these, the legend of Candle Face stood out—a ghostly child said to prey on non-believers. I’d heard the stories from locals and tourists alike, but I never gave them much credence. That is, until the night everything changed.
It started as just another shift at the bar. I overheard patrons exchanging stories about Candle Face between serving and refilling beer. According to legend, she is a vengeful spirit with a disfigured face who haunts those who doubt her existence. I laughed it off, joking with a regular, “If Candle Face is real, I guess I’m next on her list!”
On my way home that night, the air turned unnaturally warm as I walked down the dimly lit street. Out of the shadows, a small, distorted figure appeared. Her voice, a scary undertone, cut through the silence: “You mock what you don’t understand.”
Frozen in place, I managed to stutter, “W-w-who are y-y-you?”
“I am the truth in the dark, the belief you scorn,” the figure hissed. The air around her seemed to shimmer with a ghostly glow, revealing Candle Face’s charred and grotesque features.
My disbelief, my mockery, had summoned her. In a trembling voice, I said, “You... you can’t be real.”
Candle Face moved closer, her voice growing darker, “Your disbelief gives me strength. Your mockery invites your end.”
Fear gripped me as I realized the gravity of my situation. The stories were true, and my skepticism had become my undoing.
I turned to run, but a force I couldn’t see held me in place. Candle Face’s terrifying and mocking laughter filled the night. “You sought proof of my existence. Now, you shall become part of my legend.”
The following week, the bar was abuzz with the news of my mysterious disappearance. My colleagues and regulars were baffled, with no clues to what had happened. The last person to see me was the regular I’d joked with, who recounted our conversation about Candle Face with a shiver.
The story I once laughed at had become my reality. In the shadows of Sixth Street, my voice joined Candle Face’s, a reminder of the price of disbelief. My final words to the living world, now lost to the night, left a haunting question: Who will Candle Face claim next? My advice to all: Believe, it’s your only defense!
She expressed gratitude for my attention, to which I responded, “You’re welcome.” Her expression betrayed surprise once more at my capacity to converse. The garage door opened, and she vanished into the night. Eager to document her account, I rushed to my computer.
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
Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb
eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4
To Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One], please visit Amazon
Paperback: https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d
eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib
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