Candle Face Victim #42: The Crown of Bone

October 10, 2024

I’ve had some success with my newfound mediumship and remote viewing skills lately. Just a few days ago, I was able to ‘hear’ voices in an elderly woman’s head from about 50 years ago. It’s a start. I heard the voices mention a knife, even though a gun killed her. Did I not hear it correctly, or was I interpreting it wrong? For now, I believe I heard the word “knife,” though I wonder if the voices were lying to me, or at least trying to manipulate me. I don’t know yet. Hopefully, I can figure it out. I sure wish I had some brave and trustworthy psychics and mediums out there who could help me. I feel all alone in this investigation.

I hope I can enlist readers to help, though competing for their attention is hard work. Millions of books and websites are out there, all trying to grab their share of the audience. I’m one person trying to find the right readers, the ones who can help solve these cases and aid the Lost Souls.

Sorry, I digressed.

The lights flickered as I sat at the dining room table with these thoughts, staring deep into the crystal ball around 2:00 a.m. Flickering lights seem to be the norm these days, a sign that Lost Souls are about to visit. I was right. I felt a couple of pokes on the back of my right shoulder. I jumped a little, despite knowing what was happening. I turned to my right, but nothing was there. Then I turned to my left, and before I could really see anything, two hands grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard. I heard a loud “Boo!”

I turned further around and saw a young black woman, probably around 25 years old, standing slightly behind me, laughing.

“I always wanted to do that,” she said, still chuckling. “That’s what ghosts are supposed to do, right?”

“I guess,” I said, half-laughing, trying to hide that she had actually startled me.

She pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. She seemed completely at ease, as if she’d done this before. She had a nice smile and bright teeth, but her skin looked as though it had been drained of all color, with a faint bluish tint. Her eyes, though, were full of laughter.

But what stood out most was that she had been scalped. Not a patch of hair or skin on her head, just exposed skull, with blood still flowing down her face. Her yellow shirt was soaked in blood.

“What do you think of my hairstyle?” she asked, pretending to comb through non-existent hair.

“I like it,” I said, trying to remain calm.

She laughed, clearly picking up on my discomfort.

“I’m here to ask you to help me find my body and figure out how I was killed. I was too high on drugs the day it happened, so I don’t remember much. The word in Candle Face’s Lair is that you can see the past.”

She stressed the words “The word in Candle Face’s Lair,” almost mockingly.

Before she could say anything else, I interrupted. “No, I can’t do that. I’ve been practicing, but I can’t do it for real yet.”

“But Ray, you must try. Look into your crystal ball and do your thing.”

Reluctantly, I looked down into the crystal ball. I felt put on the spot. Her big smile had faded into a sad frown. I think I saw tears mixed with the blood running down her face. Now, I had to try.

“As a matter of fact,” she added, “today is the anniversary of my death. That’s why I’m here. My birthday was just a few days ago, and now this.”

“I’m so sorry. Celebrating a birthday, then dying a few days later. Happy birthday,” I said.

“Thank you,” she said, but her focus stayed on my crystal ball.

She watched me intently. My hands hovered over the ball, feeling a faint warmth, though I knew it was just my nerves. I put my hands down, thinking I must look ridiculous, like I was in some movie, acting out a scene.

I stared deep into the crystal ball, focusing on the energy around me, trying to reach whatever remained of her past. I followed standard remote viewing practices: grounding myself, clearing my mind, and letting the sensations and images come naturally. In mediumship, you open yourself to the spirit’s energy, allowing it to guide you to the memories or traces it leaves behind. The key is to trust that what you see, no matter how broken, means something.

The flickering lights in the kitchen slowed, and for a moment, the dining room fell into a creepy calm. I began to see flashes, not in the crystal ball, but in my mind: scattered images, unclear but connected to her story. A park bench, the flash of metal, muffled voices. Nothing was clear. One thing was certain: this was no simple death. Whoever did this didn’t want her found.

“I see something,” I began. “It’s not clear. It feels like you were in a public place, maybe a park.”

She nodded slightly. “That sounds right. But who? Why?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ll keep trying,” I said. “This isn’t easy to piece together, but I’ll do what I can.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, I could see that behind the blood and pain, there was still hope in her.

Before I could say another word, the room grew hot. So hot it felt like the sun’s surface, right in my dining room. I turned, and there she was, Candle Face. Her charred features looked darker than usual, and her hollow eye sockets glowed faintly as if the fire within her still burned.

The Lost Soul beside me looked terrified, her hands trembling. Candle Face’s eyes locked onto the woman’s forehead.

“What happened to you?” Candle Face asked in a low, mocking voice. “Looks like you have been scalped.”

She circled the dining room table slowly.

The woman didn’t answer, frozen.

Without warning, Candle Face pulled a knife from her cloak, its blade gleaming in the dim light. She leaned in, tracing an old scar just below the woman’s exposed skull with the tip of the blade. The woman whimpered, her eyes wide with terror, unable to move.

“You know what is funny?” Candle Face asked. “You came here to ask Ray what happened to you? I can tell you. I was the one who scalped you. It was not enough, was it?”

She moved swiftly, and in one motion, she scalped the woman again, this time taking the top of her skull off and exposing the brain. Blood gushed as Candle Face held the bloody top of the skull in her hands, inspecting it as if it were a trophy.

The woman screamed in pain.

“She thought she could betray me,” Candle Face scoffed while facing me. “She dared to speak my name, to reveal my secret, thinking she could escape. But no one escapes me.”

I watched in disbelief as Candle Face took the woman’s skull and placed it atop her own head like a grisly crown, the woman’s blood now dripping down Candle Face’s face but boiling away within seconds.

“This,” she said with a twisted smile, “is what happens when you speak my name to non-believers.”

So this woman had learned the truth about her, had tried to warn others, and had been silenced for it. Her death was a message.

The Lost Soul disappeared, and Candle Face remained with her new crown.

She returned her gaze to me, her hollow eye sockets narrowing. “So,” she scoffed, “you think you are getting better at this little ‘mediumship’ act of yours? How adorable.”

She paced around the dining room. “You think you can peek into my past? You think you are the first to try?”

She paused, leaning in so close I could feel the heat radiating from her charred skin. “That woman thought the same thing,” she said, gesturing to where the Lost Soul had sat moments before. “She thought she could use her ‘abilities’ to fight me too, to dig into secrets that do not belong to her. And look what it got her: scalped, mutilated, and now a crown for me.”

Candle Face ran her fingers across her new crown, smirking as she adjusted it on her head. “You see, Ray, my past is not for the likes of you. It is for my children. Non-believers, you saw what happened to them. My children know what to tell and what not to tell.”

“You could end up just like her,” she yelled, her voice hotter. “Scalped, gutted, and left for dead. You are playing with fire, Ray. Look into my past, and I promise you will burn.”

I clenched my fists under the table, forcing myself to stay calm. “I’ve heard these empty threats from you before,” I said, my voice firm. “Here I am, still here.”

Her smile faded, replaced by a look of fury. “You think you are safe? You think you are untouchable. You are wrong, Ray. So very wrong. I have not killed you yet because you are my ultimate prize. Do you have any idea how long I have waited for this? How long I have wanted to rip you apart, piece by piece, until there is no memory of your existence?”

She circled the table again, slower this time, her footsteps echoing in the quiet room. “I am patient,” she continued. “Oh, I am so patient. And when the time comes, when you finally slip, I will be there. I will be the last thing you see, Ray. And I will enjoy every second of it.”

For a moment, neither of us spoke.

“You want to know why no one from the paranormal community wants to help you?” she asked, breaking the silence. “It is because of me. They know what I can do. They have seen it. That is why they stay away. They know my power and are smart enough to keep their distance.”

She leaned in again, her face inches from mine. “You should be wary of your little ‘abilities,’ Ray. Keep looking into my past, and you may not like what you find. It is not just the Lost Souls you are dealing with. You are in my world, and in my world, the rules are different.”

I stared back at her. “Is that all you’ve got?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “More threats? More warnings? You’ve tried to scare me before, and guess what? I’m still here. I’ve fought bigger demons than you.”

Her hollow eye sockets flashed with anger. “Bigger demons?” she spat. “You have no idea what I am, Ray. You will. Soon enough, you will.”

For a moment, I thought she might attack. Her body tensed, her hand gripping the knife tightly. Then she straightened up, a strange smile creeping across her face.

“You know,” she said, her tone almost casual, “you are not as far along in your mediumship as you think you are. You are tapping into something much darker, much deeper than you realize. And that little crystal ball of yours? It is a window. You look through it, and I look through it too.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

She laughed again, that same mocking sound. “Oh, you will find out soon enough. Keep using your abilities. Keep pushing yourself. The more you try to see into my past, the closer you bring me to you. Every time you look, every time you connect with one of my victims, you open the door a little wider. And one day, I will step through for the last time and take you with me.”

She took a step back, her eyes gleaming with twisted delight. “So keep practicing, Ray. Keep looking. Just remember, whatever you are staring at is staring back at you.”

With that, she turned and walked toward the shadowy corner of the room. Just before disappearing, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “I will be seeing you soon.”

And then she was gone.

Personal Note to My Readers

I sat there for a moment, my mind racing. What had she meant? A window for her too? Was it possible that my mediumship and remote viewing were somehow connected to her, that I was giving her more power by using my abilities? This would explain why I can’t seem to see beyond her victims. Could Candle Face, the shadows, and even the Lost Souls be watching me through the crystal ball? Is that how they know my every move?

Once again, I felt like I had failed. I wanted to help, and I hurt another Lost Soul instead. Her trust in me was misplaced, and I worry that my attempts are doing more harm than good. How can I protect these Lost Souls when I can’t even find their remains? To date, I’ve only identified 6 of 42 Lost Souls. Maybe I need to focus less on identifying them and more on protecting them, even if I can’t yet give them the peace they seek.

Here I am again, swinging between hope and hopelessness. Every time I feel like I’m making progress, Candle Face rips it away and leaves me more helpless than before. It’s exhausting. I can’t keep up with the emotional whiplash anymore.

I’ve been here before. I’ve wondered if I’m making a difference or just playing into her hands. Am I in her hell, just like her victims, being tortured slowly, methodically, before she takes me too?

Then something in me shifted tonight. I surprised myself. My fists were clenched under the table, steady against my legs as they used to be when Candle Face visited me as a child. Back then, I was frozen in fear, unable to move, barely able to breathe when she came near. Tonight, I stood up to her, or at least I tried to.

I can’t believe I told Candle Face that I’ve fought bigger demons than her. Of course, that’s not true. I’ve never faced anything like her in my life. Maybe I said it out of fear, trying to sound tough. Maybe I said it because, deep down, I needed to convince myself that I can beat her. I don’t know. I said it, and I still can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. Kind of funny, though.

I don’t know if I can win this battle. I can’t give up on these Lost Souls, no matter how many times Candle Face tries to break me. I have to keep fighting, for them and for the truth.

I might be in her hell already. I’m not ready to give in. Not yet. Candle Face can threaten me all she wants. I’ve seen what she does, and I’m still here. There must be a reason why I’m still here.

I know Candle Face wants me to feel isolated, to think I’m in this alone. I don’t believe that. I’ve always trusted in the power of collaboration. She’s strong. But there are others out there, in the paranormal community and among my readers, who are just as strong, even though I know I must carry the bulk of the work. I welcome any help. With it, I believe we can free these Lost Souls, no matter how powerful Candle Face thinks she is.

I have to keep going. One way or another.