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 the spirit of an elderly woman’s head from over 50 years ago. It may not be perfect, but it’s a start. For example, I heard the voices mention a knife, but a gun killed her. Did I not hear it correctly, or was I just interpreting it wrong? For now, I believe I heard the word “knife,” but 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 all 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, but 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 just one person, but I’m on an important mission to find the right readers—readers 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, pondering these thoughts while 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 truly 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 the fact that I was actually startled.
She pulled out the chair next to me and sat down. She seemed so comfortable, as if she’d done this before, or at least like she was comfortable with me. She had a nice smile and bright teeth, but her skin looked as though it had been sapped of all color, with a faint bluish tint. Her eyes, though, filled with laughter.
But what stood out the most was that she had been completely scalped. Not a single hair or skin on her head—just exposed skull, with blood still flowing down her face. Her yellow shirt was almost completely 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 understanding 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 hell is that you can see the past.” She stressed the words “The word in Candle Face’s hell,” 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 like I was being put on the spot, asked to try something I wasn’t even sure I could do. Her large 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 responded.
“Thank you,” she responded, but her focus was on my crystal ball.
She watched me intently as I sat there with the crystal ball. 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 connect with whatever traces of her past still lingered. I followed standard remote viewing practices: grounding myself, clearing my mind, and letting the sensations and images come naturally. In mediumship, you open yourself up to the spirit’s energy, allowing them to guide you to the memories or traces they leave behind. The key is to trust that what you see—no matter how fragmented—holds the truth.
The flickering of the 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—disorderly images, unclear but connected to her story. A park bench, the flash of metal, muffled voices. Nothing was clear, but one thing was certain: this was more than just a simple death. Her end was brutal, and those involved didn’t want her to be found.
“I see something,” I began. “It’s not clear, but 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, but 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 hope in me.
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, like a predator toying with its prey.
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 her 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. But it was not enough, was it?”
She moved swiftly, and in one horrifying motion, she scalped the woman again, this time taking the top of her skull off, 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 as her brain was exposed.
“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.”
And that’s when it hit me—this woman was killed because she had learned the truth about Candle Face. She had tried to warn others, but Candle Face got to her first. Her death wasn’t just another random murder; it was a message, a reminder that Candle Face’s secrets weren’t to be exposed.
The female 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 on top of 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, well, 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 steady. “But here I am, still here.”
Her smile faded, replaced by a look of fury. “You think you are safe, don’t you? You think you are untouchable. But 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. “But 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. The tension between us thickened.
“You want to know why no one from the paranormal community wants to help you?” she asked, breaking the silence. “It’s because of me. They know what I can do. They have seen it. That is why they stay away. They know my power, and they 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. You are in my world, and in my world, the rules are different.”
I stared back at her, unflinching. “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. But you will. Soon enough, you will.”
For a moment, I thought she might attack—her body tensed, her hand gripping the knife tightly—but then, something changed. 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. But it is not just a window for you to look through, Ray. It is a window for me, too.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
She laughed again, that same mocking sound. “Oh, you’ll 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.
As terrifying as Candle Face is, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not alone in this fight. Yes, she’s powerful, but I believe there’s strength in numbers, in collaboration. The paranormal community has faced evil before, and together, along with my readers, we might just stand a chance against her. If there are brave souls out there who still believe in fighting for what’s right, I welcome your help. This battle isn’t just mine—it belongs to all of us.
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, but instead, I hurt another lost soul. 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 or 42 lost souls. Maybe I need to focus on how to protect them more than trying to identify them. I must find a way to shield them from Candle Face, even if I can’t yet give them the peace they seek.
And here I am again—stuck between hope and despair. Every time I feel like I’m making progress, Candle Face rips it away from me. She shatters every small victory, every flicker of hope, leaving me feeling more helpless than before. It’s exhausting. One minute, I think I’m getting somewhere, and the next, she drags me back into a great depression. I can’t keep up with the emotional whiplash anymore.
I’ve been here before, in these moments of despair. I’ve wondered if I’m making a difference or just playing into her hands. Am I really helping these souls, or am I just another pawn in her twisted game? Am I in her hell, just like her victims, being tortured slowly, methodically, before she takes me too?
But then, something snapped in me tonight. I surprised myself. My fists were clenched under the table, not trembling like they used to 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. But 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. But 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. Every day feels like a war—hope against despair, good against evil. But 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, for the truth, for something bigger than my own survival.
I might be in her hell, being tortured just like her victims before she takes them, but I’m not ready to give in. Not yet. Candle Face can threaten me all she wants, but 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. But I don’t believe that. I’ve always trusted in the power of collaboration. She’s strong, but I know there are others out there in the paranormal community and my readers just as strong, who aren’t afraid to face her, even though I know I must carry the bulk of the work. I welcome any help and insights. Together, I believe we can free these lost souls—no matter how powerful Candle Face thinks she is.
I have to keep going. No matter what Candle Face has planned for me.
Key To Understanding
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