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  • Candle Face Victim #36: The Assassin’s Confession

    July 12, 2024,   Tired from all the Hurricane Beryl cleanup, I decided to turn in early. Hours of wasted time browsing Facebook and YouTube videos would have to wait for tomorrow night. I turned off the living room light but kept the kitchen light on, creating a shadow in the far corner of the living room—ready for any lost soul that might want to visit me. The shadow pulsated just as I laid my head on the pillow. I wasn’t in the mood for this, not tonight, but I have a job to do. With a sigh, I sat up and prepared myself for a meeting. An old man in his late 60s wearing a cowboy hat approached me. He began his story. I’m the typical grumpy old man. I hate everybody and everything. My “wife” [using air quotes] nags all day long. She talks about how I’m not fulfilling her dreams and how everything wrong in her life is my fault. I don this big o’ cowboy hat to shield my face from people’s probing stares when the nagging gets too strong. Then, I jump in my van and drive aimlessly. Boy, I wish I could disappear. And I did—I disappeared. But not the way I wanted to. One day, when the nagging was unbearable, I got in my van and headed to a gas station. I planned to head south on I-35 to leave the nagging behind forever. I pumped my gas and went inside to grab some coffee and snacks. As I returned to my van, I saw several black helicopters circling it slowly. I could see people inside, wearing military-type uniforms, lowering ropes above my van. I knew what this was about. I knew they were coming for me. I’m no stranger to the law—I’ve been in and out of jail for decades for the crimes I was caught doing. The man paused for around 30 seconds, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. He had a satisfying smile on his face. I cleared my throat to covertly nudge him to continue. He took the hint and continued. “I figured my run was over, and I would spend the rest of my life in prison.” “Why? What did you do? Why would they want you?” I asked. He looked at me with wide eyes, then quickly glanced at the shadow from where he had entered my house. The shadow in the corner of my living room grew larger, and the lights in the kitchen began to flicker. “Quick, turn on the living room lights,” the old man said. I hesitated. “Now,” he demanded. Understanding he wanted to make the shadow disappear, I jumped up and turned on the light. The living room lit up with the occasional flicker. I sat back down as the old man sat next to me. I knew what we had just done would lead to something terrible now or later, but I didn’t care—I had a mission. “I used to kill for Candle Face. But that was back in the 70s and 80s. Of course, we didn’t call her that back then.” “Why did you stop killing for her?” I asked. “I lost my appetite for killing. Candle Face was so good to me when I first started killing for her in the 70s. But as time went by, she stopped praising me for my work. The favors she used to grant me dried up… I was becoming just another killer. I wanted to be special, so I killed more and more but got no response from her. Many years later, my wife told me Candle Face would likely come for me one day, but I didn’t care. So, I stopped killing. The last killing I did was in the summer of 1987.” “Who did you kill?” “I don’t remember her name, but she was an Asian lady. Those Asian names are hard to remember.” “Tell me about her. What happened?” “A fellow Candle Face follower with his own kill list asked me to go with him to take care of a disbeliever near Killeen. Having already completed my list, I decided to tag along with him. This man was a pro. He sure knew how not just to kill but to work over the disbelievers. We got in a car he stole and headed for the Killeen area. We got lucky; we saw her walking around her neighborhood, so we jumped out of the car and pulled her in. We took her past Copperas Cove, killed her, buried her, and placed large rocks over her body. She was never found.” He paused again, with the same satisfying look from earlier. As he paused, we both looked up towards the ceiling and heard soft but noticeable footsteps upstairs as the lights flickered again. “It’s just my son upstairs,” I assured him. “Anyway, we headed back to Austin. Even though it was a satisfying kill, I just didn’t want to do it anymore. The act was great, but I don’t kill for free. I killed for Candle Face’s attention, and she didn’t provide it to me anymore. So, the Asian lady was my last.” “How were you killed?” I asked, tapping his right arm to see if he had flesh. He did. “I got so tired of my wife nagging one day that I got in my van and headed off. I got gas—” “Oh, is this when you saw the black helicopters?” “Yes, that’s it. When I saw the black helicopters, I called my wife to tell her that my past had finally caught up to me. The helicopters circled lower, their rotors thundering. I could barely hear my wife’s frantic voice on the phone. Suddenly, the side doors of the helicopters slid open, and men in tactical gear began rappelling down, their movements swift and precise. They hit the ground running, surrounding me in seconds. One of them threw a rope around my neck, and before I knew it, I was being hoisted off my feet, the noose tightening. I dangled there, choking, as they lifted me up and away.” “They hung you? I don’t think the police would do that,” I said with a smirk. “That’s how I remember it. I know now that it was Candle Face who did it.” “So, how did you really disappear? The police didn’t do that.” “I don’t know how it really happened. All I know is what I saw and felt. That rope sure felt real. I was hoping you could figure it out for me.” “Why should I help you? You were a mass murderer,” I asked with a loud and robust tone. “I wish I had an answer for you. I don’t know why. I didn’t expect you to ask me that. By the way, why are you now asking questions?” “I figured, why not? The lost souls are already being tortured by Candle Face’s shadows whether I ask questions or not, so I might as well ask questions. Besides, it was suggested to me by a paranormal investigator to go ahead and ask questions.” “Ray, maybe you shouldn’t help me, maybe I deserve this. But I can help you help other lost souls.” “How can you help me help the lost souls?” “Ray, I just did!” the old man said with a grin and a soft laugh. “Now turn off the light and let me return to my torture. It’s where I belong, I guess.” I stood up and turned off the living room light. The old man walked towards the shadow that reappeared in the far corner. As he stepped closer, the shadow seemed to grow, pulsating as if alive. He turned around and said in a rushed voice, “Ray, the arms that are about to pull me in belong to the man who was with me when we killed that Asian woman.” As he finished speaking, he tipped his cowboy hat, and two long, muscly arms, almost skeletal, emerged from the shadow. They were inky black and seemed to absorb any light that touched them. The arms grabbed the old man with an iron grip around his neck, their touch causing him to shudder visibly. He tried to resist, but it was futile. The arms pulled him slowly and inescapably into the darkness. His eyes widened and bulged out of their sockets as he was dragged backward, his fingers clawing at the edge of the shadow in a desperate, final attempt to stay in the light. The shadow’s grip tightened, and the old man was pulled completely into the darkness with a final, powerful yank. His screams echoed briefly before being swallowed by the void. The lights in the room flickered one last time before stabilizing, leaving me alone in the suddenly too-quiet house. The living room fell into a deafening silence, the only sound of my own heavy breathing. The shadow in the corner seemed to shrink back to its normal size as if it had satisfied its hunger for now. I stood there momentarily, staring at where the old man had disappeared, feeling a mix of fear, confusion, and a strange, unsettling resolve. Personal Note to My Readers During the fourth episode of my podcast, Candle Face Chronicles , my guest Ernie Pack from Packman Paranormal suggested that I ask the lost souls questions despite my concerns about them receiving more torture. He mentioned that asking them questions could reveal important information. Reluctant at first because I knew the repercussions, I decided to try it. I don’t know if it was the right decision yet; after all, the shadows and Candle Face herself warned me not to talk to the lost souls. I’ve said it once and I’ll likely say it again: I may have to watch my back. This feels like the beginning of a major and dangerous new chapter. 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 Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

  • Distinguishing Reality from Imagination: The Candle Face Debate (Part 2)

    July 8, 2024 SPOILER ALERT : This journal entry contains insights about characters and themes in The Empty Lot Next Door . If you’re trying to avoid spoilers, it’s advisable not to read further until you’ve finished the book. Reading this journal entry may reveal important plot details that you’d rather discover on your own. Welcome to a two-part series that explores the legend of Candle Face, an evil entity that has haunted my childhood. In this series, I’ll attempt to uncover the truth behind Candle Face's existence—or lack thereof. In this series’ first journal entry, I’ll investigate the notion that Candle Face may be nothing more than a manifestation of my past trauma lurking in the shadows of my human psyche. However, in the second journal entry (this one), I’ll scrutinize the alternative perspective that suggests Candle Face is a genuine ghostly presence, separate from the realm of my human psyche. As you read through these two contrasting accounts, you're invited to weigh the evidence, confront the unsettling stories, and ultimately decide for yourself whether Candle Face is a supernatural entity or a manifestation of my past trauma. As Ray (my childhood name) and the narrator in my memoir The Empty Lot Next Door , I recount my experiences with Candle Face. I find myself constantly grappling with the question of her reality. Over the years, I’ve faced skepticism and disbelief, with many suggesting that Candle Face was merely a figment of my childhood imagination, a byproduct of fear, stress, or loneliness. However, the more I reflect on those harrowing encounters, the more convinced I become that Candle Face wasn’t just a creation of my mind but an actual entity whose existence and interactions with me and those around me cannot be dismissed as imaginary. Firstly, let’s consider the consistency and detail in my encounters with Candle Face. As a child, one’s imagination can run wild, but the details and consistencies of Candle Face’s appearances, actions, and impacts were far beyond the capacity of a young mind’s creations. From Candle Face’s evil presence in the empty lot next to my house to how she entered my home, there was a level of detail in her appearance that was startlingly vivid. She wasn’t just a shadow or a fleeting image; she had a form, a method, and a discernible pattern in her actions. My experiences with Candle Face weren’t isolated incidents but events that occurred over a prolonged period. If she were merely a product of my imagination, it would be challenging to maintain such a consistent and evolving story over time. The way she interacted with the environment, leaving physical marks, and how she was perceived under different circumstances added to the realism of her existence. For instance, her ability to leave cuts on my skin or to manipulate physical objects in my bedroom is hard to attribute merely to imagination. Another compelling argument for Candle Face’s reality is the shared experiences with others, particularly my brother Ricky. If Candle Face were merely a figment of my imagination, it would be implausible for Ricky to have also interacted with her. His reactions and the fear he exhibited were genuine and independent of my experiences. This shared perception lends credence to the argument that Candle Face was an external reality, not just a personal hallucination. Also, these encounters' emotional and psychological impact was profound and lasting, extending well into my adulthood. The fear and anxiety induced by Candle Face weren’t fleeting but had long-term effects on my mental health and perception of safety. This depth of impact indicates an encounter with an actual entity rather than an imagined one. The specific knowledge that Candle Face seemed to possess further supports her reality. She knew about personal details and future events that I couldn’t have known or predicted, suggesting a level of awareness beyond a mere mental construct. Her revelations about future events and knowledge about personal aspects of my life, which were later confirmed, indicate that she wasn’t just a product of my subconscious. Additionally, the physical evidence, such as the injuries I sustained and the disturbances in the physical environment, are hard to explain away as imaginary. The scratches on my skin, the disruption in my room, and the changes in the physical space around me during her visits point to an external force rather than mere hallucinations or dreams. Furthermore, Candle Face’s presence and actions seemed to follow a purpose or intent, which is atypical for imaginary figures that are usually more chaotic or nonsensical. Her actions seemed deliberate, often with a clear goal, whether to scare, warn, or communicate something specific. This sense of purpose is more aligned with an actual entity rather than an imagined one. Lastly, the nature of her appearances and the conditions under which they occurred also suggest a reality beyond imagination. Candle Face often appeared under specific circumstances and in particular locations, following patterns consistent with a real presence rather than random or fanciful imaginings. Her appearances were often tied to specific emotional states or events, suggesting a response to actual stimuli rather than arbitrary creations of the mind. While it’s understandable why some might view Candle Face as a product of my overactive imagination, the evidence and experiences I’ve recounted strongly suggest otherwise. The consistency, detail, shared experiences, physical evidence, and lasting impact all point to Candle Face being an actual supernatural entity. Her presence in my life wasn’t just a shadow cast by fear or loneliness but a tangible, albeit mysterious, force that left a permanent mark on my childhood and shaped my understanding of the world around me. For the opposing view, please visit: https://www.candleface.com/post/distinguishing-reality-from-imagination-the-candle-face-debate-part-1 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 Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

  • Distinguishing Reality from Imagination: The Candle Face Debate (Part 1)

    July 5, 2024 SPOILER ALERT : This journal entry contains insights about characters and themes in The Empty Lot Next Door . If you’re trying to avoid spoilers, it’s advisable not to read further until you’ve finished the book. Reading this journal entry may reveal important plot details that you’d rather discover on your own. Welcome to a two-part series that explores the legend of Candle Face, an evil entity that has haunted my childhood. In this series, I’ll attempt to uncover the truth behind Candle Face's existence—or lack thereof. In this series’ first journal entry (this one), I’ll investigate the notion that Candle Face may be nothing more than a manifestation of my past trauma lurking in the shadows of my human psyche. However, in the second journal entry, I’ll scrutinize the alternative perspective that suggests Candle Face is a genuine ghostly presence, separate from the realm of my human psyche. As you read through these two contrasting accounts, you're invited to weigh the evidence, confront the unsettling stories, and ultimately decide for yourself whether Candle Face is a supernatural entity or a manifestation of my past trauma. Candle Face has been a constant, lurking presence from my earliest memories, embodied by my deepest fears and anxieties. Yet, as I've grown and reflected upon those formative years, a dawning realization has emerged: Candle Face wasn’t an external entity but a creation of my own imagination, a manifestation of the inner turmoil and emotional upheaval I experienced as a child. My childhood was marked by a series of challenging circumstances, including familial tensions, social isolation, and a constant sense of being different from my peers. In this context, Candle Face emerged as a tangible symbol of the fears and anxieties I couldn't articulate or understand at the time. She was a projection of the turmoil within me, a way for my young mind to cope with and externalize the emotional chaos that I was unable to process. The intricate details and consistent story of Candle Face's appearances, which might be seen as evidence of her reality, can also be interpreted as the workings of a highly imaginative and sensitive child's mind. Children, especially those facing emotional stress, often create detailed and consistent imaginary worlds, as my brother Ricky had done with the stories he shared with the neighborhood kids at his treehouse. These provide a safe space to explore and process complex emotions and experiences. The vividness of Candle Face's presence, her actions, and the terror she evoked reflected the depth of my internal struggles. The physical manifestations attributed to Candle Face—the scratches and disturbances in my room—can be understood through the lens of psychosomatic responses. The human mind can produce physical symptoms as a response to psychological stress. In times of intense fear or anxiety, it's not uncommon for the body to react in ways that mimic physical harm inflicted by an external source. The shared experiences with Ricky, often cited as proof of Candle Face's reality, can be explained through the phenomenon of shared delusions or folie à deux. This psychological condition occurs when one person's delusional beliefs are transmitted to another, particularly in close relationships. Our bond, combined with the power of suggestion and the heightened emotional state we were in, could easily have led to shared hallucinations of Candle Face. As for the emotional and psychological impact of these encounters, it’s undeniable. However, the depth of this impact doesn’t necessarily corroborate the reality of Candle Face. Instead, it highlights the profound effect that our mental creations can have on us, especially when they’re born out of deep-seated fears and unresolved trauma. The specific knowledge and foresight attributed to Candle Face could result from my subconscious mind processing observations and information that my conscious mind hadn’t fully acknowledged. Children are often more perceptive than they’re given credit for, and it's possible that I picked up on cues and details about my environment and future events without fully realizing it. The purpose and intent observed in Candle Face's actions could reflect my need for structure and understanding in a chaotic and unpredictable world. By attributing these qualities to an imaginary figure, I was, in a way, trying to make sense of the senseless, to find meaning in the randomness of life. The nature of Candle Face’s appearances, tied to specific emotional states or events, further supports the theory that she is a product of my imagination. It's often the case that our fears and anxieties manifest more strongly during stress or change. Candle Face's appearances coincided with such periods in my life, suggesting a correlation between my emotional state and the intensity of her presence. In retrospect, it becomes increasingly clear that Candle Face was a complex psychological response to the challenges and fears I faced as a child. She was a construct of my mind, a way to cope with and make sense of the world around me. As I've grown and processed these experiences, Candle Face has receded (until recently), indicating that the need for this imaginary figure has diminished as my understanding and coping mechanisms have evolved. While Candle Face was a very real and terrifying presence in my childhood, the evidence suggests that she wasn’t an external entity but a manifestation of my inner world. Her existence was a testament to the power of the human mind to create and believe in realities as a way of coping with the complexities of life and the depths of our own emotions. As I've come to terms with my past and the challenges I faced, I've also come to understand that Candle Face was a part of me, a creation of my imagination, born out of necessity, and a symbol of the resilience and creativity of the human spirit. For the opposing view, please visit:   https://www.candleface.com/post/distinguishing-reality-from-imagination-the-candle-face-debate-part-2 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 Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

  • Candle Face: The Haunting Urge

    June 30, 2024   Last night was the worst experience of my life. Another spirit visited me, claiming he was killed by Candle Face's followers. He hinted that he was buried in the same house as two other spirits. One of them, I believe, is the well-known case of Jason Landry, a name familiar to everyone in Central Texas. After sharing his story, he left, and I rushed to my computer to document his testimony. As I finished, a bizarre, overwhelming urge gripped me—I had to get to that house in Luling, TX, two hours away. I don't know why, but I felt compelled. By 3:30 in the morning, I was driving over 100 miles per hour to get there. I called a friend, asking him to meet me, but he begged me to stop and turn around. Minutes later, the trance-like feeling lifted, and I returned home. It was the strangest thing I’ve ever experienced, and it terrifies me to think about what was drawing me there and what might have happened if I had arrived. Now I wonder what to do next. 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 Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

  • Candle Face Victim #35: The Lure of Luling

    June 30, 2024 It’s been three weeks since the last lost soul visited me. This isn’t the first time there’s been a long pause, so I knew they’d eventually return. Last night, they did. I was preparing the couch as my makeshift bed when the lights began to flicker, and the shadows in the corner of the living room materialized into a familiar portal.   Out stepped a man who walked straight towards me like he owned the place. During my podcast two days ago with Stacey Tallitsch , the renowned remote viewer, he suggested I pay close attention to the details of the spirits who visit me. Although I had attempted this with minimal success before, I had better luck this time. I looked him over, hoping to gather details about his appearance. He was a white male in his mid-twenties with long, unkempt, dirty blond hair, wearing a dark T-shirt with a single word above an indistinct image. Despite my attempts, I couldn’t make out what it said, and I felt awkward staring at his T-shirt, much like trying to read a woman’s T-shirt without looking like a creep. He sat beside me, his body facing the portal, but his head turned towards me. I nodded, and he began his testimony. Ray, my name is Dave, and I’m here to tell you my story. In October 2000, I went to a concert where I met a few friends. They were metalheads like me, into bands like Metallica, Slayer, and Pantera. We started hanging out and dreaming of starting our own heavy metal band. One day, our drummer mentioned writing a song that would brainwash fans into becoming fiercely loyal, even to the point of carrying out Candle Face’s wishes. He explained how we could embed subliminal messages within the aggressive beats, using layered vocals and reversed audio tracks. These messages would influence listeners to buy our CDs and follow Candle Face’s orders. The focus of our lyrics would be on Candle Face, enticing others who shared our musical taste to become her instruments. The drummer was deeply involved in the occult and believed in Candle Face, the ghost that haunts and kills those who don’t believe in her. He saw our music as a conduit for her influence, convincing followers to spread her power. Each song would contain hidden messages, encouraging loyalty and promoting her evil agenda. It wasn’t just about the music; it was a twisted form of worship designed to enthrall our listeners and spread her influence. At first, I was all in. We wrote our first song about an evil spirit demanding loyalty from its followers. The first few lines went something like this: “In darkness, we kneel, our goddess reigns, heed her call, forsake your chains!” We created a second song that was even more disturbing, demanding our fans to destroy and kill in her name. Both songs were to have reversed tracks that would list out names of followers to kill, and the drummer would provide the names. As we perfected our new songs, I started to hear voices in my head. These voices demanded my genuine participation, claiming the subliminal messages would be hidden in my guitar playing. I participated, but my heart wasn’t in it. The voices grew louder and more intense, accusing me of being a traitor to Candle Face and my bandmates. Desperate to repel the voices, I branded a cross on my left arm, thinking it would protect me. I initially considered branding it on my forehead, but that would draw too much attention. One day, my bandmates came to my house with the CD of our two songs. The drummer suggested we go to the woods to play undisturbed music from his loud car stereo. We all jumped into his car and drove south on 183 way outside Austin. We came to a mostly dirt road and parked. We all exited the car, and the drummer turned on the first song at full blast. We all sang along and air-played our instruments as if we were in a major rock concert at the Frank Erwin Center. When the songs were over, the drummer asked me what I thought. I told him they were our best yet. Then he played the second song in reverse, and the hidden message said: “In the name of Candle Face, spill the blood. Nonbelievers must now fall, heed her call, one and all.” He played more of the second song in reverse, revealing a list of names for their followers to kill. On the list was the name “Dave.” As the reversed track played, revealing my name, I laughed nervously, hoping it was just a sick joke. But my bandmates turned on me, showing they knew I wasn’t a true believer in Candle Face’s power. They beat me, leaving me barely conscious. They took me to a nearby abandoned house where Candle Face awaited. Confused and desperate, I asked why this was happening to me—I was a band member. Furious, Candle Face explained that true dedication was required, and I failed by not genuinely believing in the music’s power. In a final twist, Candle Face mocked me for believing a cross on my arm could repel her. She said, “You think that cross could protect you? I’ll place you under the floorboards with others who thought they could beat me.” Beneath the floorboards lay the souls of those who had also faltered in their loyalty, their screams echoing through the house: “Half-hearted devotion leads to eternal derision. When he was done, he stood up and said, “Ray, it’s better to believe, just in case.” He briskly walked back to the portal and stepped in. This is the second time I have heard this phrase. Personal Note to My Readers I believe the house mentioned by the lost soul, Dave, may be the same one referenced by Victims # 24 and # 27 . In all three cases, Candle Face places her victims under the floorboards. Could this be the same house in Luling, TX? Dave mentioned that he and his bandmates drove south on 183 and stopped on a mostly dirt road, likely Salt Flat Road. Could this be the same road and house? As I write this, I feel a strong pull toward the house, like I’m hypnotized. It’s as if invisible forces are compelling me to go, the urge becoming almost irresistible. Deafening screams fill my head, echoing with urgency and commanding me to get there now. The compulsion is so intense that it drowns out all rational thought. It’s 3:30 in the morning, and I can make it to Luling in about two hours. The idea of confronting whatever lies there both terrifies and fascinates me. I headed out the door and began my journey. Update   About an hour from Luling, I called my friend Michael, "Mark" in my memoir The Empty Lot Next Door . He’s a night owl like me, so I knew he would be awake. I thought that if he left now, we could both reach the house at the same time. However, Michael frantically begged me not to go, warning me about the dangers of confronting whatever presence might be there. He reminded me of the threatening stories surrounding Candle Face and that house, insisting that going alone—or even with him—is dangerous. He urged me to turn around and go back home. I heeded Michael's words and turned around. After talking to him, the eagerness dissipated. I can't help but wonder if this was a trap. Was it Candle Face's way of luring me in, finally ending my investigation and my life once and for all? Am I digging too deep into Candle Face? What would have happened if I had actually reached the house? Would I have been under the floorboards, just another victim added to her collection? What if I had arrived alone, or worse, taken Michael with me? The danger we might have faced is unimaginable. It leaves me questioning how far I'm willing to go in this pursuit and whether some mysteries are better left unsolved. Where do I go from here? Is it really up to me? These questions linger in my mind, pulling me in different directions. Should I continue to investigate Candle Face, or is it wiser to walk away while I still can? The choices weigh heavily, each path fraught with uncertainty and potential danger. But I must still help the lost souls. Then again, why would Candle Face insist that I help them and lay a trap for me at the same time? I just don't get it. What games is she playing? 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 Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

  • Unveiling the Mystery of Candle Face: A Research Project Derailed

    October 12, 2023 My return to Texas initiated an investigation into the origins of Candle Face, an 11-year-old ghost girl from The Empty Lot Next Door. Her haunting presence became a regular occurrence in my childhood dreams and waking hours, marked by her disfigured, melted appearance. Although I wasn't her only victim, accounts of terror stemming from Candle Face haunted Austin locals for years. Years ago, their correspondences to me were destined for research and were sidelined—until now. Back in Texas, my investigative journey commenced, though fraught with dark mysteries. Two of the three original witnesses I reconnected with have vanished without a trace, refusing to return my calls or emails. One withdrew in fear after a threatening dream warning from Candle Face herself. Despite his prior boldness towards talking to me, her menacing presence was enough to silence him. Now, their stories hang in a suspended, unnerving silence. Should they resurface, a desperate dash to Austin awaits to capture and share their stories with my readers. In the meantime, my research languishes in a haunted pause as I scour for new leads and tiptoe further into Candle Face's origins.

  • How a Wooden Doll Unexpectedly Joined The Empty Lot Next Door

    SPOILER ALERT: This journal entry contains themes and insights from The Empty Lot Next Door. If you’re trying to avoid spoilers, it’s advisable not to read further until you’ve finished the book. Reading this journal entry may reveal important plot details you’d rather discover alone. October 13, 2023 Imagine this: a terrifying scene with Candle Face, the villain from my memoir The Empty Lot Next Door, and me surrounded by a disorderly array of toys on my bed, including a fake Hot Wheels car and a GI Joe figurine. Unbeknownst to me, a little wooden doll was about to make a surprise entry! In Chapter 8, Candle Face quietly crept into my room in the dead of night, seized a fake Hot Wheels car and a GI Joe figurine from the floor, and smashed them together to create a loud crash. Candle Face symbolically reenacted a friend’s death that occurred just the day before. My illustrator, a highly skilled artist from India, presented a unique challenge – he wasn’t familiar with GI Joe figurines, which were critical to my original scene. Consequently, his first drawing featured a wooden doll, which, although adorable, wasn’t what I had described in my manuscript. This misalignment highlighted intriguing challenges and opportunities that can arise when two cultures merge in a creative endeavor. To resolve this issue, I sent photos of GI Joe figurines; thinking visuals might help my illustrator mimic them. However, understanding and reproducing a cultural icon without having a cultural context or personal memories is difficult. Despite his best attempts, the GI Joe figures in his drawings didn’t quite match what I had in mind. Interestingly, the wooden doll appeared in every new sketch, as if quietly insisting to be included. Confronted with strictly adhering to the actual scene or adapting to the developing situation, I rewrote the scene, creating a spot where the wooden doll could rightfully exist alongside Candle Face and me. An unexpectedly beautiful thing occurred: this unplanned wooden doll, initially a symbol of miscommunication and annoyance, seamlessly found its place in the frightful disarray on the bed, adding an unanticipated yet fitting twist to the story. Now, my story has gained an unexpected layer, prompting readers to recognize and value the sometimes unpredictable journey of creative projects. Candle Face, myself, and our new wooden companion are captured in a moment of creepy connection, a scene shaped by the hands of an artist from afar. In the end, even though the wooden doll wasn’t a part of my childhood memories, it has found its place in my story, imparting a valuable lesson. Sometimes, embracing unpredictability and allowing stories to unfold their own way can create a rich, complex story that is even better than the original plan. Thus, the wooden doll stayed in the second edition, serving as a reminder to all that wonderful outcomes can emerge when we allow different cultures and unforeseen events to sculpt and enrich our stories.

  • From Shadows to Light: The Elderly Witness to Candle Face’s Past

    October 29, 2023 In an unexpected twist, the elderly gentleman who once eluded my interview has made a dramatic reversal. Shrouded in mystery, the stage is now set for an eagerly awaited face-to-face interview scheduled for Monday, October 29th. At 82, this mysterious figure holds secrets from a forgotten time. He professes an intimate connection to Candle Face's early days. Before I awakened her and dubbed her Candle Face, he was there, silently witnessing her story’s genesis. His initial silence to share his insights has transformed into a firm resolve. An intense tension hangs in the air as he readies himself to reveal a story long hidden in the shadows. The risks are substantial; the danger is real. He confronts the potential for life-threatening consequences with unwavering courage. What hidden knowledge does he possess? How did his path intersect with Candle Face before the inferno that scarred her features, giving her the appearance of a scorched candle? As we draw nearer to the interview, the atmosphere brims with suspense. This is more than just a revelation; it’s a descent into a story that has remained untold until this moment. Stay alert as we prepare to uncover the mystery of Candle Face through the recollections of the man who knew her before the world took notice.

  • An Old Man’s Insight into the Candle Face Mystery

    October 31, 2023 In paranormal research and storytelling, stories have a frightening, inexplicable quality that echoes through generations. As the author of The Empty Lot Next Door, I’ve always been drawn to stories in the gray area between reality and legend. My current pursuit, the haunting of Candle Face, has pushed me deeper into this twilight world than ever before. To uncover the mysteries behind Candle Face, I sought out an 82-year-old gentleman who knew about the tragic fire on Ben Howell Drive in Austin, TX. For reasons of his own safety and privacy, he chose the pseudonym Mr. John Doe. He agreed to this interview on one condition: absolute anonymity. What follows is a transcript of our interview. I had ten minutes to unravel years of history with Mr. Doe, a constraint that lent urgency to every question. The interview explores the fire’s genesis and encounters with the ghost known as Candle Face. Interview date: October 30, 2023 Location: Austin, Texas Arthur: Mr. Doe, did you live near Ben Howell Drive in the 1960s or 1970s? John Doe: Indeed, my family and I lived a stone’s throw from Ben Howell Drive. Our time there has spanned from the mid-1960s to the mid-1980s. Once my children had all wed, we bid farewell to the neighborhood. Arthur: There was a devastating fire on Ben Howell in the late 1960s. Do you recall it, and if so, what do you remember? John Doe: The father was cleaning a car carburetor with gasoline in the kitchen. One of his sons knocked over the gas can, spilling its contents while the mother cooked. It was an accident waiting to happen. The gasoline or its fumes ignited rapidly, engulfing the house in flames. I believe there were several children in the home; all escaped with severe burns. But the father couldn’t locate his youngest son, a mere two-year-old. Assuming the boy had returned to the house, he, his wife, and his mother rushed back into the inferno. The flames forced them to retreat. However, the father, driven by paternal instinct, tried to re-enter, but a crowd of onlookers held him back. Firefighters eventually entered the blazing structure, but initially, no body was found, leading everyone to believe the boy was lost in the neighborhood. A frantic search ensued, with over two hundred people calling his name, I think it was Paul, though I’m not sure. Tragically, they later discovered his body in the kitchen. I vividly recall the boy’s mother, inconsolable on the curb across the street from her house, surrounded by comforting neighbors. Strangely, the father was arrested that night, reportedly for a parole violation unrelated to the fire. It was a cruel twist of fate; the police should have shown leniency, allowing him to tend to his injured family and grieve his lost child. Arthur: You said the child’s name was Paul? Do you know if one of the other children was named Griffin? John Doe: I believe the two-year-old was Paul, not Griffin. I’ve never heard of the name Griffin. Arthur: As you’re aware, I moved to the house adjacent to the empty lot where that house once stood. According to rumors... John Doe: (Interrupting) What rumors have you heard? Speak up. Arthur: When we settled into the house in 1976, I was only four. The local children spun a tale of a little boy causing the fire by playing with matches near the water heater, resulting in the entire family’s demise, purportedly buried in the backyard due to financial constraints... John Doe: (Laughing heartily for a couple of minutes) Children have a fondness for fabricating tales. It’s a part of growing up. No, there were no backyard burials, and only the little boy perished in the fire, not the whole family. Your book mentioned this, and I remember finding it amusing. Arthur: As detailed in my book, The Empty Lot Next Door, I began experiencing dreams about a little girl emerging from the hole in the back of the lot... John Doe: (Chuckling again) A hole, yes, but why would there be a hole there? Arthur: Perhaps an old, collapsed septic tank? John Doe: Unlikely, as the houses in that area [South Austin] aren’t equipped with septic tanks. It might just be a hole. Don’t fret over it (still chuckling). Arthur: Mr. Doe, I recall standing around that hole with my friends. Randy, one of the oldest kids, dared anyone to jump in, warning that the ghost of a little girl would haunt the jumper. One evening, I took the plunge. Soon after, a little girl with charred features began haunting my dreams and even left handprints on my windows, proving her existence. John Doe: But there’s no certainty she was buried there. Why did you jump in the first place? Arthur: I was often overlooked as the smallest kid. I sought something to distinguish myself from my brother Ricky’s shadow, to be recognized for my own deed. John Doe: Whatever your motivations, you might have awakened Candle Face. I doubt she was buried there; perhaps the hole was a portal. But what do I know, you’re the investigator (spoken condescendingly). Arthur: If it’s a portal, should I attempt to close it to stop Candle Face? John Doe: You’re the investigator. Now you’re starting to sound like a movie (sounding irritated). Arthur: Mr. Doe, you believe in Candle Face, I presume. John Doe: It’s better to believe, just in case. It’s akin to an insurance policy. If you believe, you’re safe. If not, you might end up with a visit. Arthur: Now you sound like a movie (I remarked, to which John Doe didn’t react). But how do you know this? How are you certain that Candle Face preys on skeptics? John Doe: I’ve heard stories for years. Rumor has it she targets skeptics who lead degenerate lives, though not exclusively. Some of her victims are upstanding citizens. So, belief is prudent, just in case. Besides, I’ve encountered her firsthand. Arthur: You’ve seen her? John Doe: Yes, around 1990, while walking my dog near the creek you mentioned in your book, at the intersection of Wilson and El Paso Streets. I saw a young girl with long dark hair, seemingly bathing in the water. We locked eyes. I kept trying to see better. I thought I heard a voice asking, “Do you believe?” Perhaps it was the wind, but I whispered “yes,” just in case. She continued her actions. I never saw her again, but I heard stories, not specifically about Candle Face, but of a little girl ghost. But I knew it was her. In a sick way, I hoped it was her. If so, I knew I wouldn’t be next. Arthur: Mr. Doe, do you think Candle Face is still out there? John Doe: I do. I’m a believer. Interestingly, after you contacted me in July, I dreamt of Candle Face warning me against talking to you. But recently, she reappeared in my dream, encouraging me to reveal everything. Any idea why she might’ve had a change of heart? Arthur: No, I don’t. But as you said, I’m the investigator; I aim to find out. Sir, you mentioned in a phone call in July that you had information about Candle Face before I awakened her. What can you tell me? John Doe: Well, all I know is I saw her with my own two eyes in 1990, well before you wrote your book. I didn’t know you or your story back then. That’s what I was referring to. Arthur: Do you think others in the community may have encountered Candle Face or know of her existence? Your sighting of Candle Face raises the possibility of additional witnesses or sources who might shed more light on her history and nature. You said you have heard stories of a little girl ghost. Can you provide me with the names of other people who may have additional information? John Doe: I know a few people, mostly my age, some younger around your age. They may not talk since they’re not believers like me. Arthur: If there’re nonbelievers, they have nothing to worry about… John Doe: (interrupting) You can still be scared if you don’t believe. And you should be afraid. But I’m not going to ask them, do your own investigation. Arthur: Fair enough. Sir, is there anything else you would like to add? John Doe: Yes, be cautious in your quest. You might find what you’re looking for. When you do, remember that belief is an insurance policy. Arthur: Thank you for your time, Mr. Doe. The interview with Mr. John Doe adds a new layer to Candle Face’s haunting, providing invaluable insights and reinforcing the necessity of belief. As I investigate this mystery, I'm reminded of Shakespeare’s words, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” The pursuit of understanding Candle Face and her world continues, bearing testament to the mysteries beyond our understanding.

  • Candle Face Genesis: The Nightmares

    November 4, 2023 Every night, as the world sleeps, my reality unravels, thread by vivid thread. It’s been four days since these strange psychedelic states began, each one strikingly like the last, like a terrifying déjà vu I can't escape. The sleep journey has become a treacherous path, where the ordinary act of closing my eyes is the prelude to a haunting sight. It started innocently enough—on the night following Mr. Doe’s interview. Our conversation was rooted in a grim reality: the tragic story of a house fire in 1969. He recounted the details with an unsettling mixture of detachment and relish. As Mr. Doe described the little boy who perished in the flames, I remember feeling hot despite the chill of the room. He spoke of the aftermath, not just the charred remains of a once happy home but of the stories in the streets of Austin about Candle Face, the ghost that emerged from a hole in the back of the empty lot that once held the doomed house. According to Mr. Doe, Candle Face was destined to roam in search of non-believers, her story igniting a mix of fear and skepticism in the community. The night after our meeting, my ordeal began to morph into something out of a psychedelic nightmare. As I lay in bed, the darkness behind my closed eyelids erupted into an array of colors, forming patterns that swirled and pulsed with a life of their own. This wasn’t merely the abstract art of the subconscious; it felt directed, intentional, as if I were being shown something—or warned. With the vibrant visuals came a sensation that tethered me to wakefulness and sleep but somewhere in between. I felt my body grow lighter as if I could float away at any moment. Then the voices began—a discord of angry and urgent screams and shout. They seemed to be yelling at me, perhaps at each other, but the words were muffled, lost in the storm of sounds surrounding me. Nearly every night, this experience repeated itself with alarming precision. I would wake up, my heart racing, only to find the yelling resumed when I attempted to return to sleep. In those waking moments, I tried to rationalize what was happening, telling myself it was stress or an overactive imagination. But the truth was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something more, something connected to the interview with Mr. Doe. By the time the fourth night arrived, exhaustion was my constant companion. During the day, I poured over websites and online forums, seeking anyone who might have experienced something similar. That’s when I stumbled upon the concept of hypnagogic hallucinations—vivid experiences that occur at the threshold between wakefulness and sleep. Yet, while the descriptions seemed to match, they didn’t account for the specificity of my dreams, the recurring themes that tied back to Mr. Doe’s haunting story. The little boy, the fire, and Candle Face all played roles in this nightly drama that unfolded in my mind. I couldn’t help but think back to the interview and the stories Mr. Doe had shared so nonchalantly. He had spoken of Candle Face with a believer’s conviction, painting her as a vengeful spirit preying on those who dared to doubt her existence. Had his stories somehow infiltrated my subconscious, manifesting as these nightly episodes? Desperate for sleep and answers, I contacted Mr. Doe once more. Our previous meeting had been difficult to arrange, and reconnecting with him proved to be just as challenging. When I finally managed to speak to him over the phone, his reaction was unsettling. “Perhaps she’s trying to tell you something.” His words weren't the reassurance I sought. Instead, they were an indirect warning, a confirmation of my deepest fears—that these experiences weren't just random hallucinations, but a connection to something beyond my understanding. I once awakened Candle Face by jumping into her lair. What have I done now? As I prepare for bed tonight, I feel uneasy. I am at a crossroads between the desire to uncover the truth behind these visions and the desperate need for restful, uninterrupted sleep. The prospect of encountering Candle Face or the echoes of the past in my dreams is frightening. I’ve taken to leaving a light on, [again] a small beacon in the hope that it might keep the darkness at bay—both the literal darkness of night and the metaphorical darkness that seems intent on seeping into my sleep [again]. Only time will tell whether this is the key to a peaceful night or merely a futile gesture. For now, I hope that understanding these nightly visitations will lead to some measure of control or even an end to them. Until then, I walk the strange line between waking and dreaming, searching for the light amidst the shadows. Personal Note to My Readers I find myself struggling with a deep yearning for uninterrupted sleep. These relentless sleepless nights, filled with psychedelic states, are encroaching on my daylight hours, disrupting my work, and straining my relationships. It’s as if by investigating Candle Face, I’ve unwittingly invited her back into my life, reigniting her attention and unsettling presence. Unlike many “paranormal investigators” who would flee at the slightest hint of the supernatural, my military background has instilled a different response: run towards the enemy, engage rather than retreat. This ingrained instinct tells me to confront Candle Face and seek answers rather than turn away in fear. It’s daunting, but I refuse to be intimidated or driven away from this challenge. I understand that facing this may be a long and difficult journey, potentially fraught with more sleepless nights and strange encounters. But I’m committed to this path. I hope that by confronting whatever truth lies behind these visions, I might finally reclaim the peace and normalcy of a good night’s sleep. I’m prepared to see through this fight, this investigation into the unknown, to the end.

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