Candle Face Victim # 17
March 4, 2024
I believe I dozed off around 4:00 am, having spent several hours lounging on the sofa and scrolling through Facebook and YouTube videos. When my house alarm began to blare, I startled awake, only to glimpse a man clad in khakis and a button-down shirt. He started speaking immediately, not pausing to allow me a moment to shake off my grogginess.
In the vibrant heart of Austin, the legend of Candle Face was more than just a ghost story; it was a reminder of the dangers that lurk in the mind. Despite the stories, I remained a staunch skeptic. As a software engineer, logic and reason were my guiding stars. Ghosts and ghouls had no place in my world, or so I believed.
My encounter with Candle Face began on an unremarkable night as I sat immersed in coding. The air in my apartment grew inexplicably hot, and unease crept over me. In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of her—a ghostly figure with a charred and disfigured face.
“Why do you reject my existence?” Her voice was strangely calm, a stark contrast to her horrific appearance.
I scoffed, my skepticism unwavering. “Ghosts aren’t real. You’re just a figment of my imagination.”
“Am I?” she asked, her voice tinged with a haunting sadness. “Is it not arrogant to dismiss what you cannot explain?”
I stood up, trying to assert my rational mind over the growing fear. “You’re a legend, a myth. Nothing more.”
Candle Face moved closer, the air shimmering with an intense heat. “Your disbelief offends me. It denies the pain of my existence.”
Attempting to ignore her, I turned back to my computer. “You’re not real,” I muttered, but my voice lacked conviction.
She laughed softly, a sound felt in my soul. “You will learn the truth in time.”
That night, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, and yells echoed in the darkness. Sleep eluded me, and when it finally came, it was filled with nightmares of Candle Face, her charred appearance haunting my dreams.
The next day, I found myself questioning everything. Was it possible that something beyond my understanding was at play? I tried to shake the feeling, to regain my footing in the logical world I knew, but doubt had already taken root.
As the days passed, the hauntings intensified. Objects moved on their own, hot spots appeared randomly, and her voice filled the silence of my apartment. “Why will you not believe?” she would ask.
Panic set in. I started to avoid my apartment, spending nights wandering the streets of Austin, but the sense of being followed never left me. Her presence was always there, just out of sight.
One night, feeling cornered and desperate, I confronted her. “What do you want from me?” I demanded.
“Belief,” she whispered. “Acknowledgment of my pain.”
I shook my head, fear battling with my ingrained skepticism. “I can’t believe in something that doesn’t make sense.”
Her face twisted into a mask of sorrow and fury. “Then you leave me no choice.”
That night, the world around me changed. The familiar streets of Austin vanished, replaced by an endless darkness. Candle Face stood before me, her eyes glowing with a ghostly light.
“Where am I?” I asked, my heart pounding.
“Within the shadowed void of the disavowed,” she replied. “A place for those who deny the truth.”
I felt a surge of terror. “Let me go. I’ll do anything.”
“It is too late,” she said, her voice echoing in the void. “You had your chance to believe.”
I tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. The darkness was all-encompassing, suffocating. Candle Face advanced, her burnt hands reaching towards me.
“Please,” I begged, my skepticism shattered by fear. “I believe in you. I do.”
But my words were empty; it was too late to change my fate. She touched my face, and a searing pain shot through me. My screams echoed in the darkness, but there was no one to hear them.
Days later, my belongings in my apartment were untouched. In the following weeks, my disappearance became another chapter in the legend of Candle Face. The security guard said I had been taken as punishment for my disbelief, a warning to all who dared to deny the supernatural.
Without saying a word, he turned around, walked back into the dark corner of my living room, and disappeared. I checked my surveillance footage, but there was no sign of my nocturnal visitor.
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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eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib
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