Candle Face Victim #10: The Devil's Mark

December 30, 2023

Main Subjects: Candle Face

• Victim #10

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 flashed 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 spoke 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 noticed 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 marked.

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. 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. She’s not the first to be sold out by the people closest to her. Candle Face has brought up betrayal before. I still have a lot to figure out.

Personal Note to My Readers

During this encounter, I tried harder than usual to get a better look at her and pin down the details of her story. But she seemed to pick up on the extra attention and kept moving deeper into the shadows.

I think that extra attention is what cut the encounter short. I need to be more careful in how I approach these spirits. They’re trusting me with the worst moments of their lives, 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.

The investigation continues in the three most recent entries below. Each adds to the record on Candle Face (Isabel), the Lost Souls, and the Fugitives. You’ll find every entry to date in The Journal.