Candle Face Victim #32: Clean Shaven is her Punishment

June 5, 2024

Main Subjects: Candle Face

• Victim #32

The lights started to flicker shortly after midnight, more than they had in the last few days. I thought nothing of it, so I continued my nightly scrolling through YouTube videos. When one of the flickers lasted long enough to disconnect the internet, I looked up and saw a woman with what appeared to be a broken jaw, blood covering her face and dripping down between her legs. I put down my phone. This time, I didn’t motion for her to sit next to me. I just sat there and waited for her to begin. I smiled, and she returned it. A few teeth fell out, which she quickly picked up and put back in her mouth. She began, speaking slowly, knowing it would be hard for me to understand. Here’s her story:

Hi Ray, my name is Cayman. I loved and hated my husband. Our relationship was lovey-dovey one minute and at each other’s throats the next. Our arguments were mostly about money and his wandering eye. He had a thing for young girls, and I tried to look younger by shaving down there. He liked it at first. Soon enough, he wanted the real thing.

On the day I died, we fought over something trivial, though I can’t recall exactly what because we were both drunk and looking for a fight. I got right up in his face and spat at him. He punched me, and I hit the edge of the end table. He climbed on top of me and started hitting me in the mouth, warning me that if I ever spat on him again, he’d kill me. When he finally stopped, my mouth and my left cheekbone felt like mush. He seemed to realize he had gone too far and panicked. I was barely conscious as he yelled, “Look what you made me do!” All I could see were his feet pacing back and forth.

He lifted me into a sitting position against the couch. My eyes were slits as he looked at me and said, “I’m sorry.” I spat in his face again, blood and snot mixing in the spit that landed mostly in his mouth. He threw me back to the floor and stomped on my head and neck until I was no more. The whole time, I was laughing at the futility of it all.

When I died, I stared at the most wicked figure I had ever seen. It had the form of a woman with long hair, and her eyes were empty and pierced into my soul. She welcomed me to her Lair, saying I’d find my place there. She explained that my husband had killed me too soon. I was meant to be sacrificed later because of my disbelief. I tried to speak, but my mouth was full of broken teeth and blood. Then she pronounced my punishment. For the rest of eternity, a razor would keep me clean-shaven for the shadows to enjoy.

She gave me a half-smile while holding her hands just below her mouth, maybe to catch her teeth if they fell out again. She turned and walked slowly toward the portal. One step before reaching it, she hesitated and began to cry. A thunderous voice rang out, “Come.” She stepped into the portal and disappeared.

Personal Note to My Readers

Another Lost Soul provided me with a name: Cayman, or Caymen. It could also be Clayman or Claymen, as it was difficult to understand her through the gargling and broken teeth. Her voice was distorted and echoed unnaturally, and I missed every third or fourth word. I ran a Google search for missing persons in Central Texas with that first, middle, or last name. I haven’t found any leads yet, but I’ll continue looking.

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.