December 13, 2023
My wife and I were getting ready to watch another episode of Breaking Bad when I felt an odd nudge, almost like a reminder that I should go to bed earlier than usual—maybe in case another spirit showed up. And then, as if I’d summoned him with my thoughts, a figure stepped out of the portal, walking toward my bed in a sharp business suit. Every step he took made a clear, precise tap against the floor.
Without any sort of greeting, he launched into what he needed to say, radiating a sense of urgency:
Surrounded by the energy of the city, I moved through the sea of people from all walks of life. The streets were alive—towering skyscrapers, flashing signs, the buzz of a metropolis that never stopped. Beggars sat in doorways, cafes overflowed with chatter, and the distant hum of live music added to the chaos.
My life, though, felt like the opposite of that vibrancy. It was a cycle of deals, profits, and endless deadlines. In the corporate world, my name was synonymous with ruthless efficiency. Boardrooms were my battlegrounds, and my sharp mind was my weapon. I thrived in the chaos of business, but beneath the surface, I wondered: Was it worth it? The sacrifices I made—joy, relationships—what did they amount to? I never voiced these doubts. I buried them deep under layers of ambition.
As I walked through the crowd, lost in my thoughts, something—or rather, someone—caught my eye.
He was standing at the corner of Congress Avenue and Sixth Street, a ragged man holding a tattered flyer. His clothes were worn, his hands trembling, but it was his eyes that stopped me. They were desperate, pleading.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said, holding the flyer out to me. “Please, take a moment to read this. It’s about our savior. She has saved countless lives. You could be next.”
I barely glanced at it, brushing past him like he wasn’t even there. The paper crinkled in my hand before I let it fall to the ground.
“Save my life?” I scoffed. “I don’t have time for delusions.”
I laughed to myself as I walked away, my mind already turning back to market strategies and stock prices.
But that night, back in my apartment, something lingered. The man’s eyes, his voice. My apartment, pristine and expensive, felt colder than usual, almost suffocating. It mirrored the isolation I tried to ignore.
I told myself it was nothing. Stress, maybe. A long day. But as I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, a voice whispered at the edge of my consciousness. It was faint, almost like a thought, weaving through the noise in my head.
Then the light flickered.
When I turned, she was there.
Candle Face.
Her presence was impossible to describe—both beautiful and horrifying. She looked like she was made of shadows and light, her body flickering like a candle’s flame.
“Do you still disbelieve, businessman?” she asked, her voice haunting and melodic.
I couldn’t move. My words came out broken. “This... this can’t be real. You’re… you’re an illusion.”
Her laughter was emotionless, almost mocking. “I am as real as the emptiness you felt when you dismissed my disciple yesterday,” she said. “Your skepticism, your disbelief, has summoned me to you.”
She reached out, her hand more shadow than flesh, and I felt its heat even before it touched me. Doubt and dread consumed me. The world I’d built on logic and profit shattered, and all that was left was fear.
When her fingers touched my forehead, it was like a floodgate opened. My entire life flashed before me—every moment of ambition, every sacrifice. I saw myself chasing success at the expense of everything else. Faces I hadn’t thought about in years appeared: family, friends, people I had pushed away. Their expressions were filled with sadness and disappointment.
I realized, too late, what I had given up. The moments I could have chosen happiness or connection, I had traded for something hollow.
I begged her for mercy. I told her I could change, that I wanted to believe. But it didn’t matter.
“It is too late,” she said, her voice final.
She claimed my soul, pulling me into her lair.
The next day, the city didn’t stop. No one noticed I was gone. My absence barely rippled through the relentless pace of the world. My apartment remained untouched, a pristine monument to a life that had looked successful but was empty at its core.
And somewhere, on those same streets, the ragged man stood at another corner, holding out his flyer. His eyes searched the crowd, pleading for someone to listen before it was too late.
After the businessman finished his testimony, he stepped backward into the portal in the corner of my bedroom, his shoes tapping just like before. Before disappearing completely, he had more to say:
Take a moment to step back from the relentless pace of work and truly listen to those around you; their stories can enrich your life in ways success alone can’t. Don’t wait until it’s too late to realize that life’s true value lies in connections, not just accomplishments.
Personal Note to My Readers
Reflecting on the businessman’s testimony, I’m reminded of something crucial: how important it is to truly listen to both the living and those who feel unheard. In our day-to-day rush, we can easily dismiss someone’s story or plea—just like that overlooked flyer. Whether it’s a friend’s warning, a stranger’s request, or a loved one’s silent struggle, these neglected voices hold information we often miss when hurrying through life.
The businessman’s words aren’t simply a call for our help but also his attempt to help us. He asks us to slow down and pay attention to what people around us are saying. We shouldn’t wait for something supernatural to remind us how important it is to listen. Let’s start with everyday moments and embrace the lessons we can learn from each other.
Key To Understanding
Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One]
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