October 4, 2024
Last night, I did something different. Instead of wasting countless hours watching Facebook and YouTube videos, I decided to practice the mediumship techniques I’ve recently learned and combine them with remote viewing techniques. I moved my crystal ball into the dining room and sat down to meditate and clear my mind. It was around 1:00 am, and I was the only one awake, but I still felt a little silly staring into a crystal ball. After a while, the silliness disappeared, replaced by a sense of peace and mental clarity.
As I continued gazing into the crystal ball and focusing on my breathing techniques, I heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching me from behind. I didn’t turn around; I continued concentrating on the crystal ball because I somehow knew it was a lost soul. He sat down next to me and introduced himself as Mark. I finally looked up at him and saw a lost soul more clearly than ever before. The details of my dining room were much more vivid than I had ever seen. I knew I was in some kind of trance, brought on by the meditation and my newfound techniques.
He greeted me again with a look of amazement. He seemed tickled that I was looking around the dining room, almost as if he couldn’t believe I could see him. “Hello,” he said again, trying to get my full attention. I finally looked directly at him, noticing that he had a much larger head than most and had Spock-like, pointed ears. He was a white man, around 200 pounds, with blue eyes and looked to be about 40 years old. He seemed to wait for me to take him in before speaking again.
“Hello,” he said for the third time, laughing softly. “I walked here from Waco, nearly 175 miles, just to talk to you.”
“You walked here from Waco?” I asked loudly.
“Yes,” he chuckled. “I like to walk.”
I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask questions during these interactions because Candle Face forbids it. But I couldn’t help myself; this felt too important. I decided to ask anyway.
“Why did you come all the way from Waco, Mark?”
His gaze turned a bit more serious, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on the table. “Well, there’s some folks down there who, uh, asked me to help them with something. They wanted me to hand out these pamphlets around town—y’know, spread the word about Candle Face.” He said the name like it was something he’d repeated a hundred times.
“Pamphlets about Candle Face?” I pressed.
“Yeah, yeah… But we didn’t call her Candle Face back then. I don’t remember the name though, but it wasn’t Candle Face. But it was her, just with a different name. I didn’t believe in all that at first. Seemed like a buncha nonsense. I did it for the money. They didn’t pay much, but it was somethin’. I ain’t had much goin’ for me, so I figured, why not? But after a while, I dunno, started to make more sense to me, y’know?” He paused, glancing down at his hands. “Like, the more I talked to these folks, the more it seemed real. So, I got more excited ‘bout helpin’ ‘em.”
He hesitated before continuing, “They knew I was missin’ a few marbles, though. I ain’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed. They kinda took advantage of that. Had me doin’ stuff no one else wanted to do, but I didn’t care. I was just happy to be part of somethin’. They was my new family, y’know?”
Mark’s expression brightened a bit as he recalled the memory. “I really liked passin’ out them pamphlets—long as I didn’t have to talk to nobody. If folks started askin’ questions, I’d just tell ‘em, ‘Read the pamphlet. It’s all in there.’ I wasn’t good with answerin’ questions, y’know?”
“What kind of things were in the pamphlet?” I asked, leaning forward slightly.
“Ah, just, stuff ‘bout Candle Face, or whatever her name is. How she’s out there, helping her people and helping spread her message. The pamphlet made her seem like a god or something. My new friends would warn me to not cross her or she’ll come after me too. At first, I didn’t think it was true, but after a while, well, I started wonderin’ if it really was. I started gettin’ real nervous handin’ ‘em out, like maybe she was watchin’ me.”
“Did you keep handing them out?”
He shook his head slowly. “Nah, started feelin’ weird ‘bout it, like somethin’ was wrong. So, when I’d get more of ‘em to pass out, instead of doin’ it, I’d just walk. I like to walk, especially when I’m feelin’ low. Walked way out in the countryside. Buried a bunch of them pamphlets in the dirt. Didn’t wanna look at ‘em no more.” He glanced up at me, almost sheepish. “But I’d tell ‘em I was still handin’ ‘em out, though. Lied right to their faces.”
“Why didn’t you just quit?” I asked, even though I already sensed the answer.
Mark gave a small, sad smile. “Didn’t wanna lose ‘em. They was the only folks that ever cared about me. So I kept it up, kept walkin’ ‘round with those pamphlets. But then one day, I was walkin’ along Highway 84, and a truck full of them saw me. Didn’t have no pamphlets on me, just my own sorry self.”
“What happened then?” I sensed the story was about to take a dark turn, like all the other testimonies from the lost souls.
“They pulled over. Said I was lettin’ everybody down. Got real angry. I tried to say I’d do better, but they didn’t listen.” Mark looked down, touching his neck. “One of them pulled out a knife and stabbed me right here, right in the neck. Didn’t even see it comin’. Then, they dragged me off the road, into the brush. Left me there, bleedin’ out. I felt my body go cold, heard the buzzards flappin’ ‘round. They picked at me ‘til there wasn’t much left.”
I struggled to process what I’d just heard.
“That’s why I walk,” Mark said again, his voice growing softer. “Even after all that. I walk and I walk ‘cause I ain’t got nowhere else to go. And every place I go, it’s like I’m seein’ all the death and pain she’s caused. People dead on the side of the road. Houses burned down. Folks screamin’ for help that never comes.”
He paused. “It’s like I’m walkin’ through Candle Face’s own hell, a place she made just for me. My punishment for not handin’ out those pamphlets. She made me see all this death and destruction—things I coulda prevented if only I’d done what I was supposed to. If I’d just passed out more pamphlets, maybe people woulda known about her. Maybe they wouldn’t have died. Maybe, maybe they’d still be here.” He said, his voice full of regret and guilt.
“That’s my punishment. To walk forever in a place full of hurtin’ people, a place I coulda stopped. She’s showin’ me what happens when folks don’t know ‘bout her. All because of me.”
Mark’s eyes stared through me now, unfocused, as if he were no longer fully present in my dining room. His words tumbled out faster, almost frantic. “Every time I think I’ve walked far enough, I find myself right back where I started. I think I’m leavin’ it all behind, but then there’s more bodies, more pain. It’s like she’s watchin’ me. Like she’s laughin’ at me.”
I wanted to say something—anything—to ease his suffering, but the words stuck in my throat. What could I say? He believed he was trapped in Candle Face’s punishment, forced to witness endless suffering as a consequence of his actions.
“I’m so tired,” Mark cried. “I just wanna rest. But I can’t stop. I have to keep walkin’. Maybe if I walk long enough, she’ll let me go. Maybe, just maybe, one day, I’ll get outta here.”
He glanced up at me, eyes full of desperate hope. “D’you think that’s true? That if I keep goin’, I’ll find my way out? Or am I just stuck here forever?”
I tried to hold back the sorrow and empathy swelling up inside me. “I don’t know, Mark, but I hope you do. I hope you find peace.”
“Yeah, peace,” he repeated softly, as if the word was foreign to him. “Peace would be nice.”
Mark fell silent, staring off into the distance. Then, as if coming to a decision, he turned and started walking toward the door. I watched, helpless, as he moved with a slow, deliberate gait, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His form began to blur and fade as he stepped outside, but just before he disappeared completely, he glanced back over his shoulder.
“Thanks for talkin’ to me,” he said, his voice faint but sincere.
And then he was gone.
Even though I was alone again, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still out there, walking through a world of pain and sorrow, searching for a peace that might never come.
Personal Note to My Readers
Mark’s story left a mark on me (no pun intended). It made me realize how essential it’s for me to refine my skills to connect with souls like Mark in a more meaningful way. Since completing Nicole Riccardo’s Mediumship Bootcamp and Stacey Tallitsch’s remote viewing class, I’ve been diligently applying the meditation and focusing techniques they taught. While I’m far from mastering these skills, last night’s encounter with Mark was the first time I truly felt the impact of what I’ve been practicing. The structured meditation exercises are beginning to help me quiet my mind and filter out distractions more effectively. It’s slight, but I’m noticing a difference.
One of the foundational exercises I’ve learned from Nicole, grounding myself by visualizing roots extending from my feet into the earth, has been particularly helpful in stabilizing my energy and maintaining focus. During my session with Mark, this grounding technique kept me centered even as I felt his emotional turbulence wash over me. I wasn’t overwhelmed like I might have been before. Instead, I could observe and feel his emotions without getting caught up in them, allowing me to better understand his state of mind.
Another exercise I’ve incorporated is “target acquisition” from Stacey’s remote viewing course. Although I’m still getting the hang of it, I tried it with Mark. Instead of passively waiting for him to come through, I focused on his voice, letting my mind’s eye follow its resonance. This seemed to strengthen our connection, making his presence feel more solid. For a brief moment, I felt like I was on the edge of something—like a veil was lifting, giving me a clearer view into his world.
I know it’s just a start, but these techniques are already making it easier to pick up on details that might have slipped past me before. It’s almost as if I’m tuning in to a new frequency, one where the voices and sensations of the lost souls are coming through more clearly. Mark’s voice wasn’t just a faint voice; it had texture and depth. I could hear how it wavered when he spoke about his past and how it steadied when he asked me if I thought he could find peace. These are slight shifts, but they feel significant.
I’m not claiming to have perfected these techniques overnight. In fact, I’m still working on finding the right balance between using them and maintaining the spontaneity of these encounters. But last night’s experience with Mark gave me a glimpse of what’s possible. If I can refine these skills further, who knows what I might be able to uncover? For now, it’s enough to know that I’m making progress and that these new techniques are helping me bridge the gap between my world and theirs in a way I’ve never been able to before.
This is just the beginning. I have a feeling that these new techniques will lead me to even more profound encounters. I’m eager to see where this path takes me next, and I’m grateful to have you all along for the journey.
Key To Understanding
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