October 31, 2023 In paranormal research and storytelling, stories have a frightening, inexplicable quality that echoes through generations. As the author of The Empty Lot Next Door , I’ve always been drawn to stories in the gray area between reality and legend. My current pursuit, the haunting of Candle Face, has pushed me deeper into this twilight world than ever before. To uncover the mysteries behind Candle Face, I sought out an 82-year-old gentleman who knew about the tragic fire on Ben Howell Drive in Austin, TX. For reasons of his own safety and privacy, he chose the pseudonym Mr. John Doe. He agreed to this interview on one condition: absolute anonymity. What follows is a transcript of our interview. I had ten minutes to unravel years of history with Mr. Doe, a constraint that lent urgency to every question. The interview explores the fire’s genesis and encounters with the ghost known as Candle Face. Interview date: October 30, 2023 Location: Austin, Texas Arthur: Mr. Doe, did you live near Ben Howell Drive in the 1960s or 1970s? John Doe: Indeed, my family and I lived a stone’s throw from Ben Howell Drive. Our time there has spanned from the mid-1960s to the mid-1980s. Once my children had all wed, we bid farewell to the neighborhood. Arthur: There was a devastating fire on Ben Howell in the late 1960s. Do you recall it, and if so, what do you remember? John Doe: The father was cleaning a car carburetor with gasoline in the kitchen. One of his sons knocked over the gas can, spilling its contents while the mother cooked. It was an accident waiting to happen. The gasoline or its fumes ignited rapidly, engulfing the house in flames. I believe there were several children in the home; all escaped with severe burns. But the father couldn’t locate his youngest son, a mere two-year-old. Assuming the boy had returned to the house, he, his wife, and his mother rushed back into the inferno. The flames forced them to retreat. However, the father, driven by paternal instinct, tried to re-enter, but a crowd of onlookers held him back. Firefighters eventually entered the blazing structure, but initially, no body was found, leading everyone to believe the boy was lost in the neighborhood. A frantic search ensued, with over two hundred people calling his name, I think it was Paul, though I’m not sure. Tragically, they later discovered his body in the kitchen. I vividly recall the boy’s mother, inconsolable on the curb across the street from her house, surrounded by comforting neighbors. Strangely, the father was arrested that night, reportedly for a parole violation unrelated to the fire. It was a cruel twist of fate; the police should have shown leniency, allowing him to tend to his injured family and grieve his lost child. Arthur: You said the child’s name was Paul? Do you know if one of the other children was named Griffin? John Doe: I believe the two-year-old was Paul, not Griffin. I’ve never heard of the name Griffin. Arthur: As you’re aware, I moved to the house adjacent to the empty lot where that house once stood. According to rumors... John Doe: (Interrupting) What rumors have you heard? Speak up. Arthur: When we settled into the house in 1976, I was only four. The local children spun a tale of a little boy causing the fire by playing with matches near the water heater, resulting in the entire family’s demise, purportedly buried in the backyard due to financial constraints... John Doe: (Laughing heartily for a couple of minutes) Children have a fondness for fabricating tales. It’s a part of growing up. No, there were no backyard burials, and only the little boy perished in the fire, not the whole family. Your book mentioned this, and I remember finding it amusing. Arthur: As detailed in my book, The Empty Lot Next Door, I began experiencing dreams about a little girl emerging from the hole in the back of the lot... John Doe: (Chuckling again) A hole, yes, but why would there be a hole there? Arthur: Perhaps an old, collapsed septic tank? John Doe: Unlikely, as the houses in that area [South Austin] aren’t equipped with septic tanks. It might just be a hole. Don’t fret over it (still chuckling). Arthur: Mr. Doe, I recall standing around that hole with my friends. Randy, one of the oldest kids, dared anyone to jump in, warning that the ghost of a little girl would haunt the jumper. One evening, I took the plunge. Soon after, a little girl with charred features began haunting my dreams and even left handprints on my windows, proving her existence. John Doe: But there’s no certainty she was buried there. Why did you jump in the first place? Arthur: I was often overlooked as the smallest kid. I sought something to distinguish myself from my brother Ricky’s shadow, to be recognized for my own deed. John Doe: Whatever your motivations, you might have awakened Candle Face. I doubt she was buried there; perhaps the hole was a portal. But what do I know, you’re the investigator (spoken condescendingly). Arthur: If it’s a portal, should I attempt to close it to stop Candle Face? John Doe: You’re the investigator. Now you’re starting to sound like a movie (sounding irritated). Arthur: Mr. Doe, you believe in Candle Face, I presume. John Doe: It’s better to believe, just in case. It’s akin to an insurance policy. If you believe, you’re safe. If not, you might end up with a visit. Arthur: Now you sound like a movie (I remarked, to which John Doe didn’t react). But how do you know this? How are you certain that Candle Face preys on skeptics? John Doe: I’ve heard stories for years. Rumor has it she targets skeptics who lead degenerate lives, though not exclusively. Some of her victims are upstanding citizens. So, belief is prudent, just in case. Besides, I’ve encountered her firsthand. Arthur: You’ve seen her? John Doe: Yes, around 1990, while walking my dog near the creek you mentioned in your book, at the intersection of Wilson and El Paso Streets. I saw a young girl with long dark hair, seemingly bathing in the water. We locked eyes. I kept trying to see better. I thought I heard a voice asking, “Do you believe?” Perhaps it was the wind, but I whispered “yes,” just in case. She continued her actions. I never saw her again, but I heard stories, not specifically about Candle Face, but of a little girl ghost. But I knew it was her. In a sick way, I hoped it was her. If so, I knew I wouldn’t be next. Arthur: Mr. Doe, do you think Candle Face is still out there? John Doe: I do. I’m a believer. Interestingly, after you contacted me in July, I dreamt of Candle Face warning me against talking to you. But recently, she reappeared in my dream, encouraging me to reveal everything. Any idea why she might’ve had a change of heart? Arthur: No, I don’t. But as you said, I’m the investigator; I aim to find out. Sir, you mentioned in a phone call in July that you had information about Candle Face before I awakened her. What can you tell me? John Doe: Well, all I know is I saw her with my own two eyes in 1990, well before you wrote your book. I didn’t know you or your story back then. That’s what I was referring to. Arthur: Do you think others in the community may have encountered Candle Face or know of her existence? Your sighting of Candle Face raises the possibility of additional witnesses or sources who might shed more light on her history and nature. You said you have heard stories of a little girl ghost. Can you provide me with the names of other people who may have additional information? John Doe: I know a few people, mostly my age, some younger around your age. They may not talk since they’re not believers like me. Arthur: If there’re nonbelievers, they have nothing to worry about… John Doe: (interrupting) You can still be scared if you don’t believe. And you should be afraid. But I’m not going to ask them, do your own investigation. Arthur: Fair enough. Sir, is there anything else you would like to add? John Doe: Yes, be cautious in your quest. You might find what you’re looking for. When you do, remember that belief is an insurance policy. Arthur: Thank you for your time, Mr. Doe. The interview with Mr. John Doe adds a new layer to Candle Face’s haunting, providing invaluable insights and reinforcing the necessity of belief. As I investigate this mystery, I'm reminded of Shakespeare’s words, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” The pursuit of understanding Candle Face and her world continues, bearing testament to the mysteries beyond our understanding. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 4, 2023 Every night, as the world sleeps, my reality unravels, thread by vivid thread. It’s been four days since these strange psychedelic states began, each one strikingly like the last, like a terrifying déjà vu I can't escape. The sleep journey has become a treacherous path, where the ordinary act of closing my eyes is the prelude to a haunting sight. It started innocently enough—on the night following Mr. Doe’s interview. Our conversation was rooted in a grim reality: the tragic story of a house fire in 1969. He recounted the details with an unsettling mixture of detachment and relish. As Mr. Doe described the little boy who perished in the flames, I remember feeling hot despite the chill of the room. He spoke of the aftermath, not just the charred remains of a once happy home but of the stories in the streets of Austin about Candle Face, the ghost that emerged from a hole in the back of the empty lot that once held the doomed house. According to Mr. Doe, Candle Face was destined to roam in search of non-believers, her story igniting a mix of fear and skepticism in the community. The night after our meeting, my ordeal began to morph into something out of a psychedelic nightmare. As I lay in bed, the darkness behind my closed eyelids erupted into an array of colors, forming patterns that swirled and pulsed with a life of their own. This wasn’t merely the abstract art of the subconscious; it felt directed, intentional, as if I were being shown something—or warned. With the vibrant visuals came a sensation that tethered me to wakefulness and sleep but somewhere in between. I felt my body grow lighter as if I could float away at any moment. Then the voices began—a discord of angry and urgent screams and shout. They seemed to be yelling at me, perhaps at each other, but the words were muffled, lost in the storm of sounds surrounding me. Nearly every night, this experience repeated itself with alarming precision. I would wake up, my heart racing, only to find the yelling resumed when I attempted to return to sleep. In those waking moments, I tried to rationalize what was happening, telling myself it was stress or an overactive imagination. But the truth was, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was something more, something connected to the interview with Mr. Doe. By the time the fourth night arrived, exhaustion was my constant companion. During the day, I poured over websites and online forums, seeking anyone who might have experienced something similar. That’s when I stumbled upon the concept of hypnagogic hallucinations—vivid experiences that occur at the threshold between wakefulness and sleep. Yet, while the descriptions seemed to match, they didn’t account for the specificity of my dreams, the recurring themes that tied back to Mr. Doe’s haunting story. The little boy, the fire, and Candle Face all played roles in this nightly drama that unfolded in my mind. I couldn’t help but think back to the interview and the stories Mr. Doe had shared so nonchalantly. He had spoken of Candle Face with a believer’s conviction, painting her as a vengeful spirit preying on those who dared to doubt her existence. Had his stories somehow infiltrated my subconscious, manifesting as these nightly episodes? Desperate for sleep and answers, I contacted Mr. Doe once more. Our previous meeting had been difficult to arrange, and reconnecting with him proved to be just as challenging. When I finally managed to speak to him over the phone, his reaction was unsettling. “Perhaps she’s trying to tell you something.” His words weren't the reassurance I sought. Instead, they were an indirect warning, a confirmation of my deepest fears—that these experiences weren't just random hallucinations, but a connection to something beyond my understanding. I once awakened Candle Face by jumping into her lair. What have I done now? As I prepare for bed tonight, I feel uneasy. I am at a crossroads between the desire to uncover the truth behind these visions and the desperate need for restful, uninterrupted sleep. The prospect of encountering Candle Face or the echoes of the past in my dreams is frightening. I’ve taken to leaving a light on, [again] a small beacon in the hope that it might keep the darkness at bay—both the literal darkness of night and the metaphorical darkness that seems intent on seeping into my sleep [again]. Only time will tell whether this is the key to a peaceful night or merely a futile gesture. For now, I hope that understanding these nightly visitations will lead to some measure of control or even an end to them. Until then, I walk the strange line between waking and dreaming, searching for the light amidst the shadows. Personal Note to My Readers I find myself struggling with a deep yearning for uninterrupted sleep. These relentless sleepless nights, filled with psychedelic states, are encroaching on my daylight hours, disrupting my work, and straining my relationships. It’s as if by investigating Candle Face, I’ve unwittingly invited her back into my life, reigniting her attention and unsettling presence. Unlike many “paranormal investigators” who would flee at the slightest hint of the supernatural, my military background has instilled a different response: run towards the enemy, engage rather than retreat. This ingrained instinct tells me to confront Candle Face and seek answers rather than turn away in fear. It’s daunting, but I refuse to be intimidated or driven away from this challenge. I understand that facing this may be a long and difficult journey, potentially fraught with more sleepless nights and strange encounters. But I’m committed to this path. I hope that by confronting whatever truth lies behind these visions, I might finally reclaim the peace and normalcy of a good night’s sleep. I’m prepared to see through this fight, this investigation into the unknown, to the end. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 7, 2023 SPOILER ALERT: This journal entry contains insights about Candle Face and her role in The Empty Lot Next Door . If you're trying to avoid spoilers, it's advisable not to read further until you've finished the book. Reading this journal entry may reveal important plot details that you'd rather discover on your own. Candle Face, a ghost from my award-winning memoir, The Empty Lot Next Door , is a complex and mysterious character. Initially, Candle Face appears as an observer, watching activities from a distance, evoking a sense of jealousy or resentment. This hidden observation suggests a character who is both curious and detached, hinting at a deeper, possibly unresolved emotional state. The character's ability to enter Ray's house (my childhood name) through unconventional means, like mirrors and shadows, further highlights this complexity, demonstrating a supernatural quality that blurs the line between reality and the supernatural. Candle Face's existence raises questions for Ray, leading to reflections on the nature of ghosts and the supernatural. These reflections stem from Candle Face's seemingly real impacts on Ray's life despite doubts about her existence. Such ambiguity challenges the reader to consider the boundaries between the physical and the metaphysical, as well as the reliability of perception and memory. Candle Face also exhibits a disturbing ability to invade personal spaces, creating a constant sense of vulnerability and fear. This intrusion is physical and psychological, as she appears to be able to read or influence thoughts. This aspect of Candle Face's character speaks to the theme of the unseen and unknown fears that can dominate our lives, particularly fears rooted in childhood experiences. Moreover, Candle Face is linked to past events and memories, suggesting a connection between personal history and present fears. This connection is exemplified when Ray learns that Candle Face might have died in the house he grew up in rather than in the fire next door, tying her directly to his personal history. This revelation adds a layer of personal tragedy to her character, perhaps explaining some of her haunting behaviors. Candle Face's interactions aren't limited to Ray but extend to other characters, such as Ricky and Andre, indicating her influence over a broader range of people and events. Her involvement in these characters' lives suggests a manipulative and evil nature, as she uses her supernatural abilities to influence or control others. Candle Face's actions aren't without consequence, as they lead to a confrontation where Ray gains the upper hand, symbolizing a personal victory over his fears and the ghostly figure that has tormented him. This confrontation underscores the central theme of overcoming fear and the power of facing one's demons. Candle Face's presence evokes a range of emotions in Ray, from frustration and anger to fear and confusion. This emotional response reflects humans' complex relationship with fear and the unknown. Candle Face's actions force Ray to confront his fears and take protective measures, illustrating the human instinct to seek safety and control in the face of uncertainty. Candle Face's ability to silence and immobilize Ray during their interactions points to the paralyzing effect of fear and the struggle to find one's voice in the face of terror. Her actions, such as mimicking Ray's words and inflicting physical harm, demonstrate a cruel and sadistic nature. Candle Face is a very complex character embodying themes of fear, the supernatural, and the impact of past traumas on the present. Her interactions with Ray and other characters in The Empty Lot Next Door  serve as a vehicle for exploring these themes, looking at the human psyche and the power of unseen forces in shaping our experiences and perceptions. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 8, 2023 Every night, as the world slips into a slumber, my reality continues to spiral down a nightmarish rabbit hole. It’s been a little over a week since my first encounter with those inexplicable, psychedelic episodes, and I’m still trapped in a relentless cycle of terror. The psychedelic episodes or dreams have evolved, growing more coherent and menacing with each passing night. The once-disjointed screams and shouts have now taken on distinct voices, echoing like souls yearning for my attention. They span all ages, genders, and backgrounds, and they all seem to have one thing in common: a greedy desire to communicate with me. I’ve become somewhat of an unwilling expert in hypnagogic hallucinations, the phenomenon that had initially seemed to explain my ordeal. However, as the voices grew clearer and more insistent, I couldn’t help but question the conventional wisdom that this was just a product of my overactive imagination or stress. The transition from the abstract, swirling patterns of colors to these voices was gradual but unnerving. Each night, as I lay down to sleep, I’d close my eyes, dreading the inevitable descent into the unknown. The visuals would manifest as before. Yet, this time, they seemed to be a precursor to the voices, as if the kaleidoscope of colors was a gateway into their world. The voices were a disturbing mix of conversations, screams, and cries, like a bustling marketplace of souls. They spoke in languages I couldn’t understand, sometimes incoherent, and other times vividly clear. But one thing was undeniable—they were addressing me, trying to get my attention, as though they had a message only I could decipher. Night after night, the relentless barrage continued, leaving me sleep-deprived, anxious, and on the brink of madness. I’d wake up in a cold sweat, heart pounding, desperate for reprieve. These voices, these nocturnal tormentors, had become my constant companions, and I had no idea how to escape. I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that this was somehow connected to my investigation into Candle Face. This investigation had unlocked a portal to another world, one where the vengeful spirit and these voices merge. Had I unwittingly invited these voices into my life by investigating Candle Face’s past too deeply? Desperation led me to contact Mr. Doe again, hoping for answers or guidance to break free from this torment. However, his response only deepened the dread in my chest. “You must listen,” he implored cryptically, his voice heavy with an unspoken warning. “They have chosen you for a reason.” He hung up the phone, but not before he demanded that I leave him alone. The ambiguity of his words worries me deeply. What did he mean by “they”? And why had they chosen me? I couldn’t fathom the answers to these questions, but one thing was clear—I wasn’t alone in this ordeal, and whatever spirit or spirits were behind it weren’t interested in letting me go. As the nights stretched into a relentless blur of sleeplessness, I began to discern individual voices from the chaotic symphony. Some sounded like frightened children, their innocence tainted by a profound sense of loss. Others were filled with anger and resentment as if they harbored grudges from lifetimes past. The older voices carried a weight of wisdom and regret, and their messages often hinted at forgotten truths and unfinished business. They called out to me by my childhood name, Ray, begging for my attention, and their words grew more coherent with each passing night. They shared glimpses of their own tragic stories, stories of lives cut short, unresolved conflicts, and the unfulfilled desires that tethered them to this ghostly world. It was as though they saw in me a glimmer of hope, a chance to finally convey their messages and find some semblance of closure. Yet, I remained steadfast in my resistance. I didn’t want to be their messenger, their conduit to the living world. The thought of becoming entangled in their unresolved affairs filled me with dread. I had to find a way to silence these voices, regain control over my mind, and reclaim the peaceful slumber that had eluded me for so long. The voices grew louder and more persistent each night as if they were growing impatient with my reluctance. I continued to leave a light on, hoping it would serve as a barrier between their world and mine. Still, it was becoming increasingly evident that the metaphorical darkness that had seeped into my sleep was becoming more challenging to dispel. Now, as I stand at this crossroads of my existence, I’m gripped by a sense of urgency. The voices are growing more coherent and their stories more compelling, and I fear that I can no longer ignore their pleas. But I remain cautious, for I don’t know what lies on the other side of this dark and twisted path. I’ll continue documenting my journey, for better or worse, as I navigate the space between waking and dreaming. Perhaps, in time, I’ll uncover the truth behind these voices and the mysterious connection between Candle Face and my descent into madness. Until then, I remain trapped in this never-ending nightmare, searching for the light amidst the relentless voices that seek to grab my attention. Personal Note to My Readers These spirits, each desperately trying to convey their lost histories and unspoken stories, become a deafening musical in my mind. Their simultaneous cries and pleas create a feeling of being cornered by them. I didn’t ask for these nightly visits. I guess it was my primal defense mechanism that I chose to forget the specifics of these encounters upon waking, leaving only the remnants of terror and confusion. This selective amnesia indicates the instinctive human response to shut out what we fear, even if it might hold significant meaning. I want no part of this. But it looks like I don’t have a choice. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 12, 2023 My nightmares continue. At this pivotal moment in my journey, I stand at a crossroads. The voices are growing more coherent, and their stories more compelling. It’s a scary thought, but I fear I can no longer ignore their pleas. I must venture deeper into this nightmarish world to uncover the truth behind these voices and their connection to Candle Face. My dreams have evolved, and my ability to remember them has sharpened. I’m no longer a passive observer but a reluctant participant in this surreal story. As I navigate the space between waking and dreaming, I hope that, in time, I'll unlock the secrets of these voices and find the light amidst the relentless darkness that seeks to demand my attention. And then, last night, it happened—a dream so vivid and real that I rushed to write it down the moment I awoke. In this dream, a spirit reached out to me, her unnerving presence filling the space around my bed. She differed from the other voices—a distinct spirit with a story to tell. As I listened, transfixed by her words, she revealed herself as one of Candle Face’s victims. Her name was never revealed, but she yearned to share her tragic story to ensure that her story wasn’t forgotten in the annals of time. Once mixed with all the others, her voice resonated with haunting clarity. Here’s what she told me: I hate life. I hate people. And most of all, I hate myself. Everyone and everything has been against me from the very beginning. Parents, siblings, friends, schools, the government, and everyone and everything else is against me. I want out of the world, this life of mine. I could end it myself, of course. I had tried many times, but somehow, I survived. I know ending my own life would mean heaven wouldn’t take me, and I think hell wouldn’t want me either. A few years before Candle Face kidnapped me, I had hoped that I wouldn’t wake from surgery, but I did. I cried when I woke. I even ripped open the stitches above my own heart, hoping my heart would fall out. I wished for death many times, but my body kept betraying me. My own body wants me to continue to be tormented by life. Why? Why must I constantly be tormented? Candle Face explained it to me when she took me to her lair. She said my punishment for losing my faith in her would be eternal life with pain that would compound over time with each of her kills. I’m not dead, I know. She keeps me alive just to torture me. Will you help me? Ray, please help me die. Her revelation shook me to my core. It was as though a missing puzzle piece had fallen into place, connecting the dots between my dreams and Candle Face's stories. The spirit’s plea, filled with desperation and purpose, left a permanent mark on my psyche. Previously, I mentioned that I didn’t want any part of this, even though I had no choice. If I can help these lost souls find peace, then maybe—just maybe—I’ll be more willing to participate openly. In time, I hope to unlock the secrets of these voices and find the light amidst the relentless darkness. Personal Note to My Readers It’s crucial to understand that the sequence of victims listed in the Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls  may not necessarily reflect the actual chronological order in which Candle Face killed them. Instead, the order presented is based on when these victims shared their experiences with me. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 18, 2023 People often inquire about a peculiar scene in The Empty Lot Next Door  of how I transformed my innocent toenails into jagged weapons, all to thwart my brother Ricky’s relentless sheet-stealing antics. To those inquiries, I affirmatively respond with a vivid account of this audacious act. At the tender ages of around four and five, Ricky and I shared a rather disagreeable resting place – a pullout couch that offered little respite. Ricky’s mischievous habit of snatching the coveted sheets further exacerbated this uncomfortable arrangement. His pilfering was far from discreet, for he lacked the patience to wait until I fell asleep. Instead, he brazenly yanked the sheets from my body, enveloping himself in victory. This ceaseless skirmish persisted for weeks until my determination to assert myself (a recurring theme in The Empty Lot Next Door ) reached its zenith, compelling me to employ my mother’s trusty toenail clippers. On a fateful night, my eagerness to enact my daring plan led me to retire to bed early. Undeterred by the impending showdown, Ricky leaped onto the bed and lunged for the coveted sheets. Just as he pulled the sheets from my body, I unleashed a powerful kick aimed at his upper right thigh. Now sculpted into jagged saws, my toes found their mark, plunging deeply into his flesh with unrelenting force. The result was a gruesome gash that stretched nearly a foot in length, a gruesome display of blood splattering across the sheets and bed. At that moment, the bed bore witness to a scene reminiscent of a heinous crime. As one would expect, Ricky’s response was an inharmonious chorus of agonized screams while I, wearing a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat’s, stared back at him, triumphant in my defense of territory. Within mere heartbeats, the thunderous arrival of our father, summoned by the chaos, disrupted the unsettling scene. He was greeted by the grotesque scene of gore that had overtaken the room. Swiftly and decisively, our father administered a stern punishment by way of a resounding spanking, rendering my butt as red as the sheets that had borne witness to my triumph. Yet, in the wake of this punishment, I didn’t care. For on that night, amid the chaos, I emerged victorious. Ricky never stole the sheets again. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 18, 2023 Last night, another nocturnal visitor paid me a visit. A vague, dark form materialized near my bed as I was on the cusp of sleep. Gradually, its details became clearer. This wasn’t my childhood visitor, Candle Face; this was something different. The figure, now just a short distance from where I lay, revealed itself as a young black girl, appearing to be around four or five years old. A palpable sense of fear emanated from her, seemingly more frightened of me than I was of her. Tears were streaming down her face as she implored me for help. She had a story to share: I remember the day I last saw my Mama. I was playing outside our mobile home, and it was really, really cold! The wind was like, “Whoosh!” on my cheeks. But the sky was all blue, and the sun was low. I sat there all wrapped up in my cozy winter coat, playing with my teddy bear that my Granny made for me. My teddy was dirty and fuzzy, but I loved it so much! Then, I saw some big kids playing near our mobile home. They were in a circle, and one of them, a big boy with nappy hair, was telling a spooky story. He said there was a girl ghost around here who died in a fire, and now she’s a ghost who scares kids who don’t believe in her. The other kids were listening, all wide-eyed and excited, even the tough ones! But my Mama didn’t like those stories. She came out of our home all fast and waved her hands like she was mad. “Stop scaring my baby girl with those stories!” she yelled. One of the ladies with the kids said maybe we should believe just in case, but Mama was like, “Nope, my baby girl won’t believe in silly stuff like that.” After Mama helped me brush my teeth at night, she tucked me into bed with my teddy. I felt safe and warm under the covers. Mama leaned in close and said, “Those ghost stories aren’t real, sweetie. Grown-ups sometimes make them up to make kids behave.” I believed her because Mama knew everything and could protect me from anything. But that night, something weird happened. I felt hot and heard a sizzling sound like bacon in a frying pan. My heart went boom, boom, really fast. Something hot picked me up, and it smelled bad, like burnt cookies. I wanted to scream for Mama, but I couldn’t. I was so scared! Then, Mama appeared. She was strong and loving, and she held me tight. She said it was just a bad dream and not real. I cried and told her about the ghost girl, but Mama said those stories can’t hurt good girls who don’t believe in them. Her words were like a cozy song, and I fell asleep without any more bad dreams. The next day, I heard a little cry while swinging on our swing in front of our mobile home. Mama was inside, next to the window, to keep an eye on me. I heard some noise coming from some bushes. My heart raced with curiosity and worry. When Mama moved away from the window, I went to check. I found not a hurt puppy like I had hoped, but a girl. Her skin was all burned, and her clothes were torn. She looked really sad. I wanted to scream and run to Mama, but I couldn’t. I was too scared. I don’t remember much after that. But I’m not with Mama and Granny anymore. I’m in a strange place with other kids and adults who had tough times, too. I’m really scared here; I don’t like it. I wish I could hug Mama and Granny one more time and feel their love and protection. Maybe you can find them one day and let them know I miss them. Let them know that I still carry their love with me, even in this terrible place. The young girl expressed her gratitude with a smile, yet her eyes were pools of agony and despair. She rose and began to retreat towards the wall, her form gradually losing its solidity, transforming into a shadow that dissolved into the darkness. An alarming sensation of liberation surged through me, prompting me to bolt out of bed and stumble downstairs, moving with the urgency of someone besieged by intense discomfort. At my computer, I frantically typed, capturing her words before they faded into the air. These visits, once mysterious, have now revealed their truth. Each ghostly encounter, initially beyond my understanding, has become vividly clear. These nocturnal visitors, trapped by the wicked ghost known as Candle Face, plead for my aid. I never chose this haunting responsibility; it was thrust upon me, a demand I can't refuse. My role is to document these exchanges and witness their stories. The path forward is uncertain, shrouded in mystery and trepidation, leaving me to wonder what fate awaits. Personal Note to My Readers This nocturnal visitor left behind intriguing clues to her identity. I estimate she’s about four to five years old. She’s African American, with her hair styled in short braids, which seemed black and white, though this could be a trick of the shadows. Her voice was gentle, yet her speech would hasten, and she frequently glanced behind as if someone, or something, lurked unseen in the darkness. The location of her home is unclear, but she mentioned Candle Face, suggesting Austin, Texas, during winter as a probable setting. She shared that she lived in a mobile home with her mother and grandmother, whom she affectionately called “Mama” and “Granny,” respectively. A notable feature outside her home is a swing. I assess that her mother’s last memory of her is likely of her playing on this swing. These details are crucial in unraveling the mystery surrounding her. For those drawn to solving this case and aiding this little girl in finding tranquility, it’s time to don your detective cap and join the investigation. Share your discoveries and insights in the comments to contribute to this collective effort to piece her story together. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 20, 2023 SPOILER ALERT: This journal entry contains insights about major characters and their roles in The Empty Lot Next Door . If you’re trying to avoid spoilers, it’s advisable not to read further until you’ve finished the book. Reading this entry may reveal important plot details you’d rather discover alone. In 2010, The Empty Lot Next Door  debuted to favorable reviews on Amazon and quickly received awards. Despite its success, not all elements of the book were embraced warmly. The main point of contention? A character named Griffin. Many readers critiqued Griffin’s stories for their overly lengthy and childish nature, noting that they constituted about 30 pages of the 300 total pages of The Empty Lot Next Door . Others didn’t grasp Griffin’s importance to the story, leading me to a challenging task in the second edition: to decrease his presence while simultaneously strengthening his meaning. I took this feedback to heart, yet I couldn’t overlook Griffin’s pivotal role in the story. Griffin wasn’t just any character; he was a figment of my brother Ricky’s vivid imagination: a hybrid of a boy and a lion. Ricky’s stories about Griffin captivated the neighborhood children in our treehouse, nestled in the empty lot next door to our house. These stories, enchanting by day and spooky by night, became Ricky’s solace from the loneliness and upheavals of childhood and a shield against neighborhood bullies. According to ancient myths, Griffins are guardians, and to Ricky, Griffin fulfilled this role. This duality of Griffin’s existence, hovering between reality and fantasy, forms the book’s heart. Returning to Texas after retiring from the military, I sat out to refine The Empty Lot Next Door . The intention was to craft a second edition that transitioned from the young adult genre to a story anchored in reality, aiming to reflect what truly happened more accurately and align with the true horror elements often missing in young adult books. Nevertheless, Griffin’s essence remained untouched, as integral as the presence of Ricky, myself, or Candle Face. Altering this would risk losing the soul of the story. The revised edition introduces significant changes. While maintaining Griffin’s core significance, the fantastical elaborations of his adventures are scaled back. The Empty Lot Next Door, Second Edition veers away from youthful imagination, instead focusing on a more factual recounting that amplifies the evil lurking on Ben Howell Drive in Austin, TX. Promising a blend of grim realities over fanciful escapades, the second edition aims to unsettle with truths rather than fantasies. Reflecting on the initial feedback, I realize it wasn’t just about Griffin’s character but about finding the right balance in storytelling. These reflections, both challenging and enlightening, have profoundly shaped the evolution of The Empty Lot Next Door . As I share this second edition, I hope readers will find a deeper connection to the story’s truths and appreciate Griffin’s role not as a mere flight of fancy but as a beacon of resilience and imagination that illuminates the darker corners of our reality. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 23, 2023 As I was on the brink of sleep last night, a nocturnal visitor once again visited me. This time, there were two of them, one male and one female. Their presence remained elusive, shrouded in the dimly lit corner of my room, where the shadows concealed their identities. The male voice broke the silence, a plea for assistance. They yearned for me to be their conduit, to reveal the story of their demise and uncover the truth behind the individuals responsible. They seamlessly intertwined their stories with each word they spoke, piecing together a haunting story of their shared tragedy. Here’s their story: I traveled to Austin with my girlfriend to visit a childhood friend. Upon arriving at his house, we quickly decided to venture out for a night of partying. Sixth Street offered many entertainment options, and we eagerly explored its nightlife. We visited several bars, each with its own unique charm, and indulged in the atmosphere, drinks, and laughter. After an extended night of partying, we returned to my friend’s house. We gathered in his kitchen/dining area, where we continued to drink beer and a touch of marijuana. As the intoxication settled in, my friend began to speak of a threatening presence haunting his house with rattling chains and whispers in the air. I exchanged amused glances with my girlfriend, attributing his stories to the effects of alcohol and weed. My girlfriend chuckled, “Ghosts rattling chains? That’s straight out of a horror movie.” I joined in, “Exactly, ghosts are just a product of our imagination.” However, my friend’s demeanor grew increasingly serious, which only fueled our laughter. “I may have exaggerated, but there's a recurring presence here. She visits me now and then...,” he insisted. “She?” I interrupted skeptically. “Does she say ‘Boo’ too?” Ignoring our jests, he continued, “She asks for my assistance, urging me to find others who believe in her.” “What do you mean, ‘believe’?” I inquired, intrigued despite my disbelief. A somber tone crept into his voice as he described dreams featuring a disfigured little girl who communicates with him. Initially incomprehensible, her words grew clearer with time, and her messages became more unsettling. “I’m out of here,” my girlfriend declared. “This is too much for me.” “Why? Are you scared?” he asked, his gaze unwavering. “No, I don’t believe in ghosts, but something about this story gives me goosebumps,” my girlfriend replied, her voice quivering. “Believe it or not, Candle Face rewards those who heed her,” he revealed. “Candle Face?” my girlfriend and I erupted in laughter at the bizarre name. “She hears you,” he said, growing agitated. “She’s everywhere, always listening.” “Does she have a list? Checks it twice?” I quipped as we laughed heartily. Laughing, our friend left abruptly, walking out of his own home and vanishing into the night. “Where did he go?” my girlfriend inquired, worry evident in her voice. “I don’t know. Give him some time; he tends to get carried away,” I reassured her. Fifteen tense minutes later, he returned with three strangers. A wave of dread washed over me instantly. One of the men held a machete, and the other a large tarp. Instinctively, I tried to flee, making a desperate dash toward the back of the house. The loose rug beneath me hindered my escape, and I was forced back into the living room, my heart pounding with fear. “He left you behind,” one of the men laughed. The man with the tarp laid it carefully on the kitchen floor. “Get on the tarp. It’ll make cleanup easier.” My girlfriend screamed, “Do something!” The man with the machete laughed, saying, “He abandoned you.” “I won’t get on that tarp,” I declared defiantly, my voice trembling. My friend produced a monstrous cattle prod and immobilized me with a jolt. Powerless, I was dragged onto the tarp. The man with the machete severed my hands, one by one, while another gagged me with a handkerchief to stifle my screams. Pain wracked my body as the machete sliced through my flesh, but I remained alive, tortured, and helpless. My agonizing screams faded into muted cries as my body was brutally dismembered. Only my head to pelvis remained intact, and the pain was unbearable. I yearned for death. My girlfriend watched in horror, unable to intervene as my friend held her captive, forcing her to witness the grotesque ordeal. She, too, endured the same torment, though they stopped short of ending her life too. They wrapped us in the tarp and tossed us into the trunk of my car, alive. Some of my blood was left behind in the house, unseen by detectives. We drove for what felt like an hour, the car filled with an oppressive silence. Eventually, the trunk opened, and we were cast into a dark gravel pit. My girlfriend and I were barely breathing by then, our lives slipping away. The last thing I heard before succumbing to my injuries was my friend’s voice: “All you had to do was believe.” Now, I find myself in a nightmarish underworld, surrounded by tortured souls from all walks of life. Their agonized cries fill the darkness, creating a symphony of despair. The air is heavy with an unsettling stillness, interrupted only by the distant cries of tormented souls. I lie here in excruciating pain, unable to move, my body a grotesque patchwork of severed limbs. The torment persists, and I long for the release of death. After the pair left just as mysteriously as they had appeared, I hurried downstairs to document their story. This marked my third encounter, and fear had long given way to a profound understanding of my purpose. I recognized my role – to share their testimonies and help liberate them from the torment that bound them within Candle Face’s nightmarish grasp. Personal Note to My Readers We have two victims. Their stories ended in a frightening and unresolved manner. I invite you to join me in this investigative journey to uncover the identities of these victims, identify the final resting place of their bodies, and identify their killers. Consider the evidence laid out in their testimony: the victims were last seen at the house of a childhood friend, a place that later became the scene of their tragic end. Let’s ponder the journey in the victim’s car, driven for about an hour - a detail that is crucial in determining where the bodies might be buried. Are any gravel pits within an hour’s drive from a suspect’s house? Your insights could shed light on the shadowy corners of this story. Who are these victims, and where have they been taken? We know the killer has already been questioned at his home, but who is it? Every theory you propose, every connection you draw, brings us closer to the truth. Let’s unravel this mystery together. Your ideas and deductions aren't just welcome; they're essential to give closure to this story. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666

November 25, 2023 Tomorrow promises to be an intriguing day for an interview! Today, I received an email from someone who asserts that he possesses information about Candle Face, the renowned ghost believed to haunt the Austin area. The email didn’t provide much detail, but the sender is enthusiastic about granting me an interview tomorrow. According to “Mr. Smoe,” Candle Face supposedly aids individuals in “finding peace.” It’s perplexing how haunting and, ultimately, killing people could be connected to peace. This contradicts the messages I receive from spirits in my dreams. Nonetheless, I must remain open and allow this individual to share his perspective. He has agreed to let me record the interview on video for documentary purposes, ensuring I have a comprehensive and accurate transcript of our conversation. I will make the transcript available as soon as possible. Key To Understanding To ensure readers grasp the full context and significance of this journal entry, it’s crucial to be familiar with Arthur Mills’ award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door ,  inspired by actual ghostly events in Austin, TX. The memoir provides essential background information, and without it, the nuances and depth of this journal entry might not be fully appreciated. Therefore, reading The Empty Lot Next Door  is highly recommended for a more enriched and coherent understanding of this journal entry's content and implications. To purchase The Empty Lot Next Door , please visit Amazon Paperback: https://amzn.to/46lCovb eBook for Kindle: https://amzn.to/44YFww4 Purchase Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls [Book One] Paperback:   https://amzn.to/4dz3m7d eBook: https://amzn.to/4bsM6ib Visit Us Online Website: https://www.candleface.com Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/candlefacechronicles Facebook Group (Dream Team Members Only): https://www.facebook.com/groups/candleface YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@CandleFace666