Candle Face Victim #35: The Lure of Luling

June 30, 2024

Main Subjects: Candle Face

• Victim #35
• Victim #24
• Victim #27
• The Empty Lot Next Door

It’s been three weeks since the last Lost Soul visited me. This isn’t the first 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 formed into the familiar portal.

A man stepped out and walked straight toward me like he owned the place. During a podcast two days ago, Stacey Tallitsch suggested I pay close attention to the details of the spirits who visit me. Although I had tried this before with little success, I had better luck this time. 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. 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 toward 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 hung out and dreamed of starting our own heavy metal band.

One day, our drummer pitched a song that would brainwash fans into becoming fiercely loyal, loyal enough to carry 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 her orders. The lyrics would center on Candle Face, pulling in others who shared our musical taste and turning them into her instruments.

The drummer was deep 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 worship, a way to spread her word and enthrall our listeners.

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 wrote a second song that was even more disturbing, demanding that our fans kill for her. Both songs were supposed to have reversed tracks listing the names of people to kill. The drummer would provide the list.

As we perfected the songs, voices started up in my head, demanding genuine participation and claiming the subliminal messages would ride in my guitar playing. I took part, but my heart wasn’t in it. The voices grew louder, accusing me of being a traitor to Candle Face and my bandmates. Desperate to shut them out, I branded a cross on my left arm, thinking it would protect me. I had considered my forehead first, 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 the music undisturbed through his loud car stereo. We jumped into his car and drove south on 183, way outside Austin. We came to a mostly dirt road and parked. We got out, and the drummer turned on the first song at full blast. We sang along and air-played our instruments as if we were playing 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 our Mother, spill the blood. Nonbelievers must now fall, heed her call, one and all.” He played more of it, revealing a list of names for her followers to kill. On the list was the name “Dave.”

When my name came up, I laughed nervously, hoping it was just a sick joke or coincidence. After all, I’m not the only Dave out there. But my bandmates turned on me. They knew I wasn’t a true believer in Candle Face. They beat me, leaving me barely conscious. They took me to a nearby abandoned house where Candle Face awaited. I asked why this was happening to me. I was a band member. Candle Face told me true dedication was required, and I had failed by not believing in the music’s power.

Candle Face looked at the cross on my arm. “You think that cross could protect you? I will 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 heard 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 walked straight back to the portal and stepped in. This is the second time I have heard this phrase.

Personal Note to My Readers

The house Dave described may be the same one from Victims #24 and #27. In all three cases, Candle Face places her victims under the floorboards. Dave and his bandmates drove south on 183 and stopped on a mostly dirt road, likely Salt Flat Road. Same road, same house?

As I write this, I feel a strong pull toward the house, like I’m hypnotized. It’s as if invisible forces are pushing me to go. Deafening screams fill my head, telling 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 reach Luling in about two hours. The idea of confronting whatever lies there terrifies me and pulls me in at the same time. I’m heading out the door.

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, so I knew he would be awake. I thought that if he left now, we could both reach the house at the same time. Michael begged me not to go. He reminded me of the stories surrounding Candle Face and that house and insisted that going alone, or even with him, was too dangerous. He told me to turn around. I did. After I talked to him, my eagerness faded.

I have to wonder if this was a trap. Was it Candle Face’s way of luring me in and 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 ended up under the floorboards, just another victim added to her collection? What if I had arrived alone, or worse, taken Michael with me? It leaves me asking how far I’m willing to go.

Where do I go from here? Should I keep investigating Candle Face, or walk away while I still can? But I have to help the Lost Souls. Then again, why would Candle Face insist I help them while setting a trap for me at the same time? I just don’t get it. What games is she playing?

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.