Candle Face Victim #10: The Devil's Mark

December 30, 2023

Main subject:

• Victim #10

• Candle Face

Last night, I slept on the couch again. As usual, I left a light on so it would cast that familiar shadow in the far corner for my nighttime visitors. This time, a spirit appeared just as I was drifting off. She carried more anger than sadness. She looked around my living room as if she expected someone else to be there. When she saw I was alone, she came closer but stayed in the shadows, keeping enough distance to hide her face.

This is her story:

Our group always met at this old café. We’d sit there for hours talking about whatever came up. That night, somebody brought up Candle Face.

My friends talked about her like she was real, like she was some vengeful ghost. I didn’t believe any of it. To show how little I cared, I showed them my devil tattoo. It’s on my butt. It was stupid, just me trying to be funny and prove I wasn’t scared. They laughed, and I laughed too. At the time, it didn’t seem like a big deal.

But after that, Candle Face stopped feeling like some made-up story. She started showing up in my dreams. At first, it was just faint voices and hissing, like she was somewhere close but not close enough to see. Then she started talking to me directly. She told me to kill for her and go after people who didn’t believe. I said no every time. She almost seemed to enjoy that.

My friends started noticing something was wrong with me. They said I seemed off. Distracted. Distant. They told me I should talk to somebody. They sounded concerned, or at least I thought they did. I never told them about the dreams. I didn’t want to scare them, and I didn’t want to admit how scared I was.

Then the dreams got worse. One night, Candle Face pulled me from my bed into the shadows. The air was hot, and it was hard to move, like I was trying to push through water. I could see faces in the dark. My friends’ faces. I couldn’t see them clearly, but I could hear them talking. Whatever they were saying seemed to make her stronger. That was when I realized they were part of it.

The next day, I went to the café like I always did, but I looked at them differently. I listened more closely. They knew too much. The way they talked about Candle Face felt too easy, too specific. That was when I understood I was already part of it.

That night, Candle Face came for me again. She was clearer than ever.“

Are you ready to meet the devil?” she asked.

I laughed in her face. “The friends who sold me out scare me more than the devil ever could,” I said.

I was still laughing when the shadows closed around me and she took me into her lair.

The next day, my seat at the café was empty. My friends pretended to mourn, but they knew what had happened. They had a hand in it, and they knew it.

After she finished, she gave me a strained smile and let out a nervous laugh before slipping back into the portal. Once she was gone, I sat there replaying her words. Her story was full of betrayal, and it left me wondering how much fear can override loyalty. Candle Face herself has mentioned betrayal more than once. I still have a lot to figure out.

Personal Note to My Readers

During this encounter, I tried harder than usual to follow her words and get a better look at her. I wanted to see her features more clearly and understand her story with more precision. But she seemed to pick up on the extra attention and kept moving deeper into the shadows, staying out of sight.

That made one thing clear. She noticed the change in how I was dealing with her, and I think it cut the encounter short. Going forward, I need to be more careful in how I approach these spirits. They are sharing painful and deeply personal experiences, and I don’t want to push them away.

Handling these encounters by myself isn’t easy, but each one is teaching me something. I only hope I’m learning fast enough to help them.