Reality vs. Imagination: The Candle Face Debate (Part 2)

SPOILER ALERT: This journal entry contains information about characters and themes in The Empty Lot Next Door. If you want to avoid spoilers, stop here until you’ve finished the book. Reading this journal entry may give away plot details you may prefer to discover on your own.

July 8, 2024

This is the second entry in a two-part series on the legend of Candle Face, an evil entity that haunted my childhood. In the first entry, I made the case that Candle Face was a manifestation of past trauma rooted in my own mind. In this one, I make the case that she is a genuine ghostly presence, separate from human psychology.

As you read these two accounts, weigh the evidence and decide for yourself whether Candle Face is a supernatural entity or something my own mind built.

In my memoir The Empty Lot Next Door, I write as Ray, my childhood name, and recount my experiences with Candle Face. I still grapple with the question of her reality. Over the years, I’ve faced skepticism and disbelief, with many suggesting that Candle Face was a figment of my childhood imagination, a byproduct of fear, stress, or loneliness. Every time I go back through those encounters, I come out more convinced that Candle Face was an actual entity, not something my mind made.

Start with the consistency and detail. A child’s imagination can run wild, yet the detail and consistency of Candle Face’s appearances, actions, and effects went far beyond what I would expect from a young mind. From her evil presence in the empty lot next to my house to the way she entered my home, there was a startling vividness to her appearance. She had a form, a method, and a clear pattern in her actions.

My experiences with Candle Face didn’t occur in isolation. They continued over a long period. If she were a product of my imagination, it would be difficult to maintain such a consistent and evolving story over time.

Another reason I believe Candle Face was real is that others, particularly my brother Ricky, shared those experiences. If she were only a figment of my mind, it would be hard to explain Ricky also interacting with her. His reactions and the fear he showed were genuine and independent of my own experiences. This shared perception supports the argument that Candle Face existed outside my own mind.

The emotional and psychological impact of these encounters was profound and lasting, extending well into my adulthood. The fear and anxiety she caused outlasted the encounters themselves, wearing on my mental health and my sense of safety for years. The depth of that impact points, at least to me, toward an encounter with something real.

The specific knowledge that Candle Face seemed to possess also supports her reality. She knew personal details and future events that I couldn’t have known or predicted. Some of what she told me was later confirmed. That is difficult for me to explain as the product of my subconscious.

The physical evidence is also hard to explain away: the scratches on my skin, the disruption in my room, and the changes in the physical space around me during her visits. All of it suggests an external force.

Candle Face’s presence and actions also seemed to follow a purpose or intent. Imaginary figures are often more chaotic or nonsensical. Her actions seemed deliberate, often with a clear goal, whether to scare, warn, or communicate. That sense of purpose made her feel like an actual entity.

The nature of her appearances fits the case too. Candle Face appeared under specific circumstances and in particular locations, in patterns consistent enough to recognize, tied to specific emotional states and events. That pattern suggests a response to something real and identifiable.

I understand why some might view Candle Face as a product of my overactive imagination. The evidence and experiences I’ve recounted lead me to a different conclusion. The consistency, detail, shared experiences, physical evidence, and lasting impact all point to Candle Face as an actual supernatural entity. Her presence in my life was a tangible, if mysterious, force that left a permanent mark on my childhood and changed how I see the world.

And that is only the childhood case. The last nine months built a second file: thirty-five testimonies, an 82-year-old witness who saw her in a creek in 1990, years before I wrote a word about her, a Nahuatl term I had to research just to learn what she calls her victims, and a night the pull toward Luling nearly put me under her floorboards. Part 1 asked what the human mind can do when it is pushed hard enough. Plenty. I no longer believe it can do all of this.