December 22, 2024
The attic is quiet now. Too quiet. The Fugitives—thirty fragile souls who risked everything to escape Candle Face’s hell—are no longer scattered across the beams, hiding in the insulation. They are sealed, and each one is safely contained in small glass bottles I received from Amazon yesterday.
It wasn’t a decision I made lightly. Aaron, from Gen X Paranormal Investigations, who specializes in spirit harvesting, suggested using specialized boxes to trap their energy safely. The boxes his team makes take time—weeks, sometimes months, but they’re the best way to ensure spirits remain secure and undetectable. Unfortunately, time wasn’t on my side. I needed something fast.
That’s when I decided on glass bottles. They don’t amplify energy like other materials, and they’re easy to seal. I added glitter to the bottles as an extra precaution—not just to obscure the spirits’ energy further but to make the bottles look like nothing more than decorative trinkets, harmless and unassuming. It wasn’t ideal, but it was my best solution with the resources and time available.
Getting the Fugitives into the bottles was easier than I expected but emotionally grueling. I returned to the attic last evening, carrying the bottles in a padded case. Each one gleamed in the dim light, their curved surfaces reflecting faint rainbows. I placed the case on the attic floor and turned to face the leader of the Fugitives.
“You need to enter these,” I said quietly, holding up a bottle. The leader studied it, the shadows of its form shifting uneasily. I could sense the doubt, the fear.
“They’re safe,” I added. “Glass will shield your energy. It’s the only way to hide you from Candle Face and her Master Shadow. Once sealed, your energy won’t combine with the others, which means it won’t become strong enough for them to sense. This is only a temporary solution, though,” I continued, my voice soft but firm. “Once you’re hidden, I’ll distribute the bottles across the country. That way, your energy will stay scattered, far enough apart to keep you safe for now. Eventually, I’ll figure out how to free you permanently.”
Before each Fugitive entered their bottle, they impressed upon me—the victim number I had given them when they testified. I wrote down each number, carefully recording their identities. Some didn’t come to me, so they didn’t have a number. Later that night, I placed a scannable QR code on each bottle to ensure I could keep track of their identities.
One by one, the Fugitives moved toward the bottles. As each entered, their ghostly forms condensed into faint, swirling lights camouflaged with glitter. I sealed the bottles tightly with a cork. Each seal shimmered faintly, a sign that the energy inside was stable.
When the final Fugitive entered their bottle, I stood there silently, staring at the row of containers. They looked so fragile, so small, yet they held the weight of thirty spirits who used to live among us.
I carried the bottles down to the garage and placed them carefully in the back of my car. For now, it seemed like the safest place. The Fugitives were hidden in plain sight. Now, I must contact trusted friends and serious members of the paranormal community if they’re interested in being caretakers of these fugitives until I can determine how to free them permanently.
Just as I closed the trunk, the air in the garage grew hotter. My breath caught in my throat. I knew what this meant. The Master Shadow was here.
He appeared in the doorway between the house and the garage, his form towering, dark, and shifting as though it were made of living smoke. The garage lights dimmed around him, as if his presence consumed the light itself. He stepped forward, his shadowy figure solidifying with each movement.
I stepped away from the car and stood tall, hoping to look brave in front of the Master Shadow, who could tear me to shreds.
“You think you’ve outsmarted me?” His voice was a low growl, vibrating through the air.
I froze, every instinct screaming at me to jump into the car, put the car in reverse, and smash through the garage door, but I forced myself to stand my ground. “There’s nothing here for you,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
His shadowed face tilted as if studying me, trying to peer through my disguise. Slowly, he moved deeper into the garage, his presence radiating unbearable heat. He brushed past the shelves, his smoky hands grazing random objects, but he didn’t stop. My heart pounded as he neared the back of my car while I kept my mind clear just in case he could enter it.
He circled the vehicle, his form rippling like heat waves. He paused by the trunk, his hand hovering over the button to open it. I held my breath, every muscle tense, but he didn’t open it. Instead, he turned back toward me, his shadowy face unreadable and apparently, so was mine.
“There’s nothing here,” the Master Shadow said, though his tone carried a hint of doubt. “At least, not yet.”
He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “But you won’t win this game. You can’t save them all. And when I find them...” He leaned in, his face inches from mine. “...You think you’re clever, but you’ve only delayed the inevitable. You can’t protect them forever.”
Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I said, “I’m not afraid of you, Kenneth McDuff.”
The name hit him like a slap. His form wavered, the shadows rippling violently as though fighting to hold their shape. For a moment, I thought he might lash out, but instead, he let out a low, menacing laugh. Was it fear or fury that had caused him to recoil?
“So, you’ve solved the riddle,” he said, his voice almost amused. “A name is a weapon, but it cuts both ways.” He leaned in closer, his voice a deep growl. “But don’t forget—every weapon can misfire.”
“You should take your own advice,” I shot back, but not before the Master Shadow laughed one final time. With that, he vanished, leaving the garage still. I leaned against the car, my legs trembling. Somehow, he knew I had the Fugitives nearby, but he couldn’t find them.
His words shot back into my mind: “You can’t save them all. And when I find them…” Did he know they had escaped Candle Face’s hell? Or was he guessing? His doubt gave me a slim advantage, but his confidence was unmistakable. The way he said “when I find them” instead of “if I find them” was a warning. He was certain that the Fugitives couldn’t stay hidden forever.
Personal Note to My Readers
I wondered briefly if this mistake could cost him something. The Master Shadow was responsible for overseeing the lost souls, wasn’t he? Does Candle Face know she’s missing some of them, or is he searching on his own, without her knowing? If she doesn’t know, maybe I could inform her—after I distribute the bottles, of course.
If I could exploit the division between Candle Face and the Master Shadow, pitting them against each other, it might buy me the time I need. This classic divide-and-conquer strategy, or as it’s formally known in intelligence circles, exploiting internal divisions, was a dangerous gamble. But here, the stakes were higher than any battlefield.
The thought of creating a wedge between them was tempting. If they turned against each other, maybe I’d have an advantage. But the risk was enormous. If she saw me as a threat, I’d be next in line for her wrath. But if I could make the Master Shadow her next target, it might be worth it.
Aaron mentioned that McDuff is buried in Huntsville, Texas, where he was executed in 1998. Dirt from his grave might hold some kind of connection to his spirit, a remnant of who he was in life. If I could use that, perhaps I could weaken him—or even bind him. The idea was tempting, but it would require careful planning and precision.
The thought stayed with me as I locked the house for the night. As I passed the hallway mirror, I caught a glimpse of my reflection. My face was pale, my eyes heavy with exhaustion, but my jaw was set. I looked drained, haunted, but I wasn’t defeated. Not yet.
Kenneth McDuff wasn’t just a shadow from the past. He was something far worse, something tied to Candle Face’s hell, and he wasn’t going to stop. The Fugitives had escaped, but the Master Shadow wouldn’t rest until they were back under Candle Face’s control.
The game had changed, and the stakes were higher than ever.
Key To Understanding
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