November 12, 2024 Everyone is asleep, and I’m ready to practice my remote viewing and mediumship skills. I was sitting at the dining room table, preparing to conjure up a lost soul. I had the crystal ball in front of me. After a long, stressful day, I just wanted to focus on something familiar, something I could control. But a lost soul had other plans for me. As I was getting ready to begin, the lights in the kitchen began flickering. I know what this means—time for a nocturnal visitor to arrive. But tonight, something was different. No one appeared, and the flickering wasn’t random. It was rhythmic, almost like it had a pulse of its own. I stayed at the table, watching as the lights flashed in quick, deliberate bursts, then paused, only to start again. It felt like the house itself was trying to speak, to get my attention. Then, without warning, a strange, crushing pressure gripped my chest. My heart started to race, beating so hard it felt like it would burst. The pain was sudden, a searing line of fire across my left side. I clutched at my chest, my mind racing. Was this it? Was I having a heart attack? My breaths came in short, shallow gasps as I tried to steady myself. The room began to darken, my vision blurring at the edges. I could feel the blood rushing in my ears, drowning out every other sound. The pressure in my chest only grew worse, like a vice tightening around my ribs, squeezing the life out of me. But that’s when I noticed it—my heartbeat wasn’t just racing. It was in perfect sync with the flickering lights in the kitchen. Flash. Thud. Flash. Thud. The pounding continued, relentless, and as I focused, I began to hear it more clearly. It wasn’t just my heart—it was a drumbeat. The rhythm was deep, raw, almost primal, like someone striking a drum with their bare hands. Each beat seemed to echo through my chest. The rhythm wasn’t just a typical drumbeat—it had a wooden, hollow resonance to it, almost like someone striking a hand drum. The sound was distinct, not something I had heard before. And then, everything shifted. I was no longer sitting at my dining room table. I was in the woods. The scent of wet leaves and damp earth filled my nostrils. The humid air stung my lungs with every forced breath. I was running—my legs felt heavy, my breaths shallow and panicked. The drumbeat was relentless, pounding in my chest and ears, driving me forward along a path deeper into the woods. I couldn’t see where I was going, only that I had to keep moving. The shadows seemed to shift and dance around me. My heart continued to pound in my chest, the rhythm urging me on, faster and faster. I followed the path to a clearing. That’s where I saw them—three shadowy figures. They stood like sentinels, their eyes glowing faintly. The familiar drumbeat grew louder, more frantic. “You have failed her,” they chanted in unison, their voices echoing. Suddenly, she appeared—Candle Face, her face a twisted, melted mask illuminated by a backdrop of flames. The heat of her presence was overwhelming, and I could feel it searing into my skin. The drumbeat became deafening. “You sought perfection in your music yet ignored my demands, Jacob,” Candle Face said. “You were to bring me those who didn’t believe, yet you chose not to obey. Now, you will pay the price.” The shadows closed in, and everything went black. And just like that, I was back at my dining room table. The lights had stopped flickering, the drumbeat had faded, leaving only the pain in my chest. My hands were shaking, my heart still pounding as if it were trying to catch up with reality. The vision had ended, but the terror lingered. Personal Note to My Readers (November 13, 2024) Last night, something unexpected and deeply unsettling happened. During the vision, Candle Face referred to me as Jacob . At first, I was confused. Clearly, Candle Face knows who I am, so why did she call me Jacob? Was it some kind of psychological trick? For a while, I was convinced that I had become the target, that she was trying to toy with me. But as I began to reflect on the experience, trying to make sense of what I had just witnessed, pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. The drumbeat, the shadows, the overwhelming sense of dread—it all felt too familiar. The story felt familiar, like a story I had heard months ago. That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t the first time I had connected with this lost soul. On March 22, 2024, he came to me, desperate to share his story about shadows pursuing him in the woods. Back then, I only heard his words, but tonight, I lived through his eyes. I witnessed what he experienced on the day he died. For a few terrifying minutes, I became the lost soul from Candle Face Victim # 21: A Drumbeat Away from Darkness . But here’s what’s truly unsettling—I didn’t consciously use the crystal ball or any of my remote viewing techniques. The moment my heartbeat synced with the flickering lights, it was as if the crystal ball activated on its own. I was pulled into a vision, but I wasn’t in control. It felt like the lost soul was reaching out to me, forcing the connection. The rhythm of the drumbeat felt like a message, a cry for help that I still can’t fully understand. I can’t help but think that this experience is a warning—both for me and for all of us trying to piece together these fragments of the past. I’ve always relied on my remote viewing techniques with some degree of control, but tonight shattered that sense of safety. If anyone reading this has experienced something similar, if you’ve felt your abilities start to activate without your intent, I need your help. The lost souls are counting on us to understand what they’re trying to communicate, but I fear I’m opening doors that I won’t be able to close. There’s something hidden in that drumbeat—something urgent that I need to decode. But I can’t do it alone. Please reach out if you have any insights. The lost souls, perhaps even my sanity, and safety depend on what we discover 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 Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/artmills

November 30, 2023 As I settled into bed, twilight enveloping my room, I wasn’t surprised when a spirit materialized in the corner, adopting the same entrance as its predecessors. Unlike the others, this ghost moved towards me with a pronounced limp, yet its steps had an unmistakable purpose. A sense of calm anticipation filled me; I had grown accustomed to these nocturnal visits. As it drew nearer, the air around me seemed to thrum with an untold story. This is his story: Every time I limped down the streets of downtown Austin, things got quiet. The suit-and-tie crowd and folks in fancy clothes would clam up as I got close, their chit-chat cutting off like they hit a mute button. They’d start yapping again after I’d limp by, leaving them behind. My limping was like a steady drum, showing life’s hard knocks didn’t knock me down. I didn’t mind that people didn’t look me in the eye. It’s better that way. Trusting people? That’s not for me. Candle Face had been a constant topic in the homeless community, a story I clung to in search of something to combat the demons that danced in my mind. She was supposed to be a savior for the lost, a beacon for the broken. But she never answered my calls for help, and in that silence, my belief withered like neglected flowers. It wasn’t in a caring manner or a guiding light when she finally appeared. It was a scream that cut through the monotony of my days and nights, demanding that I serve her and spread her legend. Her demands became another voice in my mind that was already too loud and too crowded. I lashed out in anger, and my faith in her faded and turned to acrid bitterness. That was my mistake. One evening, as I sat alone on a bench waiting for the bus, the streetlights flickered and dimmed, casting long shadows where none should have been. And from these shadows, she emerged — Candle Face, her eyes hollow, her mouth a gaping maw of darkness. “You do not believe,” she hissed her voice a twisting whisper that coiled around my heart. “Your faith is the light that feeds me, and your doubt... your punishment.” Before I could respond, her hot, sizzling hands gripped my shoulders, and the world fell away. I was pulled into the shadow of the bus stop into a place where the city’s heartbeat was a distant echo, and a void replaced the heat of the Texas sun. The darkness was absolute, a blanket of night without stars. Candle Face’s voice became clear here — they were the lamentations of the forgotten, the regrets of the lost. She wasn't the ally I had imagined but a collector of forsaken souls, feeding on the disbelief of those who dared to question. Here in the shadows, she showed me her truth. Candle Face was a guardian of a place that was neither life nor death, a world where spirits lingered, trapped by their own skepticism. It was her hell, and I had become its newest resident. I had become one of her tales to be told on the edges of reality, a warning to those who let their faith slip away. My punishment wasn’t just in the haunting but in becoming part of it, a fate I would never have chosen but one I had earned with my anger and disbelief. Candle Face retreated into the darkness, leaving me to my new existence—a shadow within shadows, a story waiting to be told. Perhaps, in time, I would become just another part of the legend of Candle Face, a cautionary tale told on the streets of Austin. Gratefully, the spirit nodded in thanks, then slowly turned and hobbled back to the corner from where it had appeared, eventually fading into nothingness. Eager to preserve the details of his testimony before they slipped from memory, I hurried downstairs to document his story. Personal Note to My Readers The victim is probably a homeless individual who often spends time downtown. The fact that he’s waiting for a bus at night suggests that he doesn’t reside downtown but in a different location. A key aspect of identifying him is his distinct limp. This raises the question: Has there been any report of a missing homeless man known for having a limp who spent time downtown? 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

December 1, 2023 I recently conducted a brief interview with an individual who claimed to be a Candle Face believer. The conversation was short, ending abruptly when I questioned the alleged compassionate nature of Candle Face. The man described Candle Face as a compassionate spirit despite stating that she targets and harms those who don’t believe in her. My probing into this contradiction angered him, leading to the interview’s premature conclusion. Although I recorded the interview, I had agreed to let him review it before posting it online. However, he hasn’t been in touch since. After the interview, I took a nostalgic walk to a creek near my childhood home. The creek, known for its challenging terrain and steep cliffs, was more than just a shortcut to our elementary school; it was a cherished playground where we played games like hide-and-go-seek and captured the flag. I captured footage of this visit and intend to share it along with the interview. Later, I visited an old friend in Southeast Austin. We talked about the interview and the dreams I’ve been having, where I think victims of Candle Face are trying to communicate with me. During our talk, his Ring doorbell camera detected something outside, but no one was there. The camera showed a large shadow and a strange orb on his porch. My friend expressed concern that my interview might have provoked Candle Face, especially since he's familiar with the lore and danger associated with her from growing up in the same neighborhood. I'll share the interview, my visit to the creek, and the footage of the dark shadow as soon as I receive permission. 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

December 3, 2023 Date of interview: 26 Nov 2023 In the strange world of the supernatural, some legends stand out. One such legend that has frightened Central Texas residents for decades is that of Candle Face. Known for her mysterious and menacing tendencies, Candle Face is said to haunt non-believers, eventually leading them to a grim fate while bestowing believers with the vanishing of their pain and mental torment. My journey into the heart of this investigation takes a compelling turn as I sit down with a man who not only passionately believes in her existence but has encountered Candle Face firsthand. I was granted an exclusive interview with a witness who prefers to remain anonymous, using the pseudonym “Mr. Smoe.” Mr. Smoe’s story intertwines with mine; after all, I was instrumental in naming and conjuring Candle Face from her lair in the 1980s. As I continue this unsettling exploration, I must note Candle Face's dual nature. To believers, she’s a compassionate and caring spirit capable of alleviating their suffering. Yet, for those who dismiss her as mere folklore, her wrath is said to be relentless, leading to a dark and ominous end. Mr. Smoe firmly belongs to the first category, having experienced firsthand the transformative power of Candle Face. Mr. Smoe’s journey into the supernatural realm began in a place of profound despair. His childhood was marred by abuse and hardship, primarily driven by his father’s alcoholism. By the age of 13, he found himself succumbing to the same destructive path, becoming an alcoholic like his father. Trapped in a cycle of pain and addiction, Mr. Smoe’s life spiraled out of control. However, a pivotal moment in 2002 changed Mr. Smoe’s life trajectory. At the brink of despair, with a loaded gun in his hand and the weight of his torment bearing down on him, he experienced an encounter with a ghostly being. A shadowy figure, resembling a young girl with hollow eye sockets and a noseless face, materialized in his living room. Her skin seemed to ripple like boiling oil, and her voice carried a creepy sincerity as she whispered, “Don’t do it. I can help you. I can make your pain disappear.” In that moment of desperation, Mr. Smoe uttered the words that would forever bind him to Candle Face: “Yes, I believe.” Remarkably, his pain vanished, and the tormenting voices in his head fell silent. Mr. Smoe found relief from his inner demons for the first time in years. This ghostly being, now known to him as Candle Face, retreated into the shadows, leaving a transformed man in her wake. From then on, Candle Face visited Mr. Smoe in his dreams, urging him to gather more believers for her cause. He heeded her call and began sharing his story with others who struggled with addiction and pain, primarily within the Alcoholics Anonymous community. The impact of his story was profound, with many individuals professing their belief in Candle Face and experiencing relief from their suffering. Mr. Smoe’s mission extended beyond the confines of AA meetings, reaching out to those living on the streets and prostitutes. His encounters with the homeless and prostitutes of South Austin became a part of his mission to expand the circle of believers in Candle Face’s compassion. However, it’s important to note that the legend of Candle Face is not without its dark side. Those who mock or dismiss her as a mere myth reportedly continue to suffer, often spiraling into madness and meeting untimely ends. It raises unsettling questions about the nature of her compassion and the consequences of disbelief. In this exclusive interview, I, Arthur Mills, the author of the Amazon best-seller and award-winning memoir The Empty Lot Next Door , who played a pivotal role in the early days of Candle Face’s emergence, seeks to understand Mr. Smoe’s deep conviction and the moral complexities surrounding this mysterious entity. Their conversation looks into Mr. Smoe’s personal journey, the impact of Candle Face on believers, and the consequences non-believers face. As the interview progresses, it becomes clear that my probing questions about the nature of Candle Face’s compassion strike a nerve with Mr. Smoe, leading to an abrupt conclusion to our discussion. Mr. Smoe warns me to be cautious, hinting at the potential dangers that may lie ahead. This interview leaves me with more questions than answers. Is Candle Face a force for good or evil? Can her actions be attributed to compassion, or is a darker purpose at play? As I continue investigating the mystery of Candle Face, I’m left with a sense of unease and curiosity, compelled to investigate deeper into the mysteries of this legend that haunts the depths of Central Texas, particularly Austin. Stay tuned as I uncover more about the elusive Candle Face and the believers who swear by her supernatural presence. The following video features the interview between Mr. Smoe and me. Mr. Smoe expressed a desire to maintain anonymity, so specific measures were taken during the recording. The video has been adjusted to increase brightness, focusing on Mr. Smoe’s ceiling fan, while his distinctive deep voice has been modified to prevent easy recognition. Our conversation ended abruptly as soon as I probed into the mysterious depths of Candle Face’s compassion. It’s intriguing to note that Mr. Smoe described the presence of Candle Face as something hot. Unlike the typical ghostly encounters portrayed in movies, characterized by a chilling sensation, Mr. Smoe and I shared experiences where the temperature seemed to rise significantly. His mention of Candle Face’s skin appearing as if it were boiling is also consistent with what I observed. The absence of eyes and a nose in her description adds further consistency. It’s increasingly compelling to believe that Candle Face may have visited both of us. With the interview concluding earlier than anticipated, I decided to take a walk, heading a few blocks away to a creek with fond and haunting memories. This creek served as a convenient shortcut for neighborhood kids, including myself, on our way to Dawson Elementary School. It was a central gathering point where many local children converged on their journey to school, but it was also a hotspot for confrontations and fights. My brother, Ricky, often faced bullies there, and I, too, encountered Candle Face in that creek. The video below offers a glimpse of what the creek looks like under the shroud of night. After my nostalgic visit to the creek, I decided to meet an old friend who once resided near the creek, so he was very familiar with the area. He was also well-informed about the infamous Candle Face and her wicked deeds. As we talked about the details of my interview and my journey to the creek, he was all ears, deeply engrossed in every detail. His Ring camera app signaled movement at his front door as our conversation neared. Stepping outside, he found nothing unusual. However, upon reviewing the camera footage, he discovered an unusual sight: a large orb-like apparition and a daunting, intense shadow lurking around his porch. He cautioned me with a worried tone, “It seems you might have stirred Candle Face’s wrath once more. She appears to be more powerful now. Mr. Smoe’s advice rings true: Be careful; you might just find what you are looking for.” Note to my friends who are familiar with this house and its owner: Please keep his identity confidential. My journey into the mysterious world of Candle Face, a legend deeply rooted in the folklore of Central Texas, reaches a distressing and thought-provoking juncture. My immersive investigation, marked by an intense interview with the eager believer Mr. Smoe, casts a new light on the dual nature of this ghostly entity. Through Mr. Smoe’s personal story, I glean insights into Candle Face’s paradoxical character – a figure of solace for believers and terror for skeptics. This contrast raises profound questions about the essence of belief and its power in the supernatural world. The abrupt end to the interview with Mr. Smoe, punctuated by his stern warning, leaves a lingering sense of unease and curiosity. It underscores the fine line between skepticism and belief and the potent, possibly dangerous, impact of challenging entrenched convictions. The unexpected encounter at my friend’s house, where a mysterious orb and shadow were captured on camera, further amplifies the intrigue and suspense surrounding Candle Face. As I investigate this legend deeper, the quest for understanding becomes more complex and compelling. The journey is about uncovering the truth behind Candle Face and exploring the intricate interplay between myth and reality, fear and faith, and the human psyche’s response to the unknown. Stay tuned as this investigation continues, venturing further into the shadowy world of Candle Face, where the line between the natural and the supernatural blurs, challenging our perceptions and beliefs in the most profound ways. 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

December 7, 2023 It has been a week since the last visit from my nocturnal guests. I have begun to wonder if they have abandoned me. Ironically, what once filled me with dread now brings anticipation. To ensure I’m tired by nightfall, I’ve stopped taking my usual afternoon naps, keeping myself occupied during the day. Previously, I would stay awake through the night, but now I retire to bed early to be ready to assist a new spirit. My journey in aiding these entities is still in its early stages; so far, my role has been limited to listening and recording their testimonies. Despite not having made a significant impact yet, I remain hopeful that I’ll be able to guide these tormented spirits in their quests. Then, a breakthrough occurred. As I concluded my prayers, the shadows in a corner of my room began to stir, almost as if dancing. Gradually, they merged into the form of a young woman, her figure still cloaked in darkness. She moved towards me with a sense of urgency, eager to share her story, not wanting to lose a moment. This is her story: As I walked into the nearby gas station, seeking shelter from the encroaching darkness, I noticed a young girl with messy hair pass me. It triggered a memory, a story I had heard at the women’s group home where I lived. It was a story of a female ghost. The women would huddle together during late-night conversations, discussing this ghost in the dead of night. They spoke of a girl who had perished in a fiery blaze and now haunted those who doubted her existence, seeking vengeance on skeptics. Back then, the story had hardly registered with me. I had been preoccupied with my own internal battles, the relentless struggles of my mental health, which overshadowed any fear I might have had for an urban legend. But today, as I stood in the gentle glow of the gas station, those memories resurfaced. Feeling an unexpected twinge of nostalgia, I let out a soft laugh. “If only she were real,” I mused aloud, “she’d see that life had scarier demons.” After leaving the gas station, I decided to take the longer route back to the group home. I needed the solitude, the opportunity to gather my thoughts in the quiet night. The path led me through a stretch of woods off the main road, where the trees rustled gently in the breeze, and the world felt serene. But then, I felt it – a hot, prickling sensation on the back of my neck, as if someone’s eyes were fixed on me. Trying to shake off the unease, I quickened my pace, but then I heard a faint whisper, barely audible above the rustling leaves, “Believe...” Panicked, I spun around, my heart racing. There was nothing but the vast, seemingly endless expanse of the woods. I cursed my overactive imagination, berating myself for letting the ghost stories get to me. But then, a soft glow emanated from the woods to my right. My curiosity overcame my fear, and I ventured closer to investigate. There, hidden amidst the trees, I found a weathered camping tent. I couldn’t resist peering inside through the unzipped flaps. A single candle illuminated the interior. And within that flickering light, I saw a little girl holding the hauntingly beautiful flame. Time seemed to stand still as our eyes locked. Hers were pools of unending sorrow, seeking understanding, yearning to be understood. “Do you believe now?” she asked, the soft glow of the candle reflected in her hollow eye sockets. I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper, “I...I don’t know what to believe.” Suddenly, the wind roared, extinguishing the candle’s flame. Darkness descended, and she was gone. I ran, the weight of regret heavy on my chest. Why had I ventured this way? Why had I invoked the legend of the ghostly girl? My thoughts swirled in a chaotic dance of fear and disbelief. Days blurred into nights, and her presence seemed to linger everywhere, an ever-present shadow reminding me of our encounter in the woods. With each blow of the wind, with each flicker of a candle or light, the same question echoed in my mind: Do you believe? A week later, I was drawn back to the gas station, compelled to revisit the old tent. Part of me hoped it wouldn’t be there, that it had all been a figment of my imagination, a nightmare I could dismiss. Yet, I stood before that same decrepit tent, its presence undeniable. The tent was zipped shut this time, and I hesitated momentarily before unzipping it. Inside, the tent was bathed in hundreds of candles’ soft, warm glow. And there she stood at its center, her face illuminated by the flames’ soft radiance. “Why?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Why me?” “You needed to believe,” she responded, her voice echoing the pain of years gone by. “In life, you faced your demons, you battled your fears, but you never believed in me. My existence, my pain, was invalidated by your skepticism.” Tears streamed down my face as I gazed into her sorrowful eye sockets. “I believe now,” I said, my voice filled with remorse and understanding. “I believe in your pain, in your existence.” The room grew brighter as every candle flared up, their flames reaching out, almost touching me. She took a step closer, her face inches from mine. “It is too late,” she whispered. My world went dark. Days later, they found my lifeless body in those same woods. The cause of my death remained a mystery, but the legend of the girl ghost, Candle Face, took on a new chapter. She was no longer a mere myth to scare children; she had become a symbol, a reflection of the deep-seated human need for validation and belief. In death, I had become a testament to the importance of listening, understanding, and, most importantly, believing. Sometimes, the most haunting stories aren’t about the ghosts that lurk in the shadows but about the ghosts we create when we choose not to believe. After she finished her testimony, I did something I had never done during these visits: I sat upright. Extending my hand towards hers, she also began to reach out. Suddenly, a loud screech echoed from the shadowy corner of my room, assaulting my ears. The spirit hastily retracted her hand and darted towards the corner, vanishing into the darkness. In response, I hurried downstairs to document her story, holding onto the hope that I might be able to assist her. Personal Note to My Readers Reflecting on this ghostly encounter, I’ve noticed a significant shift in perceiving fear and the supernatural. Initially, these visits from the other side were terrifying, but over time, they sparked curiosity and anticipation. This change underscores a more profound truth: confronting our fears can transform them into something new, like curiosity or purpose. This resonated with me, especially recalling my experience with Candle Face during my childhood. The young woman’s story, blending the supernatural with deep human emotions like the need for validation, profoundly impacted me. When I reached out to her, an action I’d never dared before, it wasn’t just an attempt to help but an acknowledgment of their existence and her story. Even the frightful interruption of a screech only fueled my determination to assist and understand these spirits. This journey, especially this distressing story, taught me a crucial lesson. The ghosts we fear often mirror our own doubts and the parts of ourselves we’re reluctant to face. In documenting these stories, I’m investigating the essence of belief and understanding, essential elements of human experience. This story serves as a reminder of the power and importance of belief. 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

December 11, 2023 I, Arthur Mills, with over thirty years of experience as an intelligence analyst and private investigator, have encountered many puzzles and mysteries, but none as complex and frightening as the case of Candle Face. Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls is not just a collection of ghostly encounters; it is an invitation to join me in a real-life investigation. These are not mere ghost stories; they are authentic testimonies from real spirits, victims of a vengeful ghost known as Candle Face. Their stories, rooted in reality, showcase her wrath on those who doubted her existence, resulting in their tragic fates. These lost souls visit me at night, sharing their encounters with Candle Face. Once skeptics, they faced her terrifying wrath, either suffering directly under her hands or through her followers. Their stories in the anthology reveal Candle Face’s strategy of targeting and punishing those who dared to question her. Surviving an encounter with Candle Face has set me on a mission. My extensive background in intelligence analysis, missing persons, and human trafficking investigations aids me, yet this paranormal situation presents unique challenges that require more than my experience alone. I am seeking your help in this extraordinary and very real endeavor. There are two critical areas where your assistance is vital: Identifying the Lost Souls’ Remains: Many of these lost souls were taken abruptly, leaving their earthly remains undiscovered. Locating where they rest is crucial for giving them peace and solving the mystery. This requires piecing together details from their testimonies, such as references to specific locations or landmarks mentioned during their encounters with Candle Face. Identifying the Lost Souls’ Killers: In cases where Candle Face manipulated her followers to kill for her, we must uncover these perpetrators. This involves carefully analyzing the testimonies for any hints or descriptions that might lead to identifying these individuals. Some spirits mention specific events or characteristics of their attackers, which could be crucial in solving these crimes. Law enforcement will only connect with the spirits’ killers, not me or anyone from this investigative team. Moreover, deciphering the dreams where these spirits communicate with me is a task laden with complexities. Each dream is a trove of potential clues, including locations, dates, and other specific details that can lead us to uncover the truths behind these paranormal mysteries. Candle Face Chronicles: The Lost Souls is a journey into genuine supernatural accounts. It is an immersive experience where you, as the reader, actively investigate these real-life ghost stories. This anthology is a unique blend of true horror, interactive investigation, and a call to action. It challenges you to confront your beliefs about the paranormal and to engage actively in a real-world supernatural crisis. Your role goes beyond being a reader and an observer; you are a crucial part of a team working to locate the spirits’ remains and identify their killers. Your insights, theories, and research can help bring these stories to light, offering justice and liberation to the spirits haunted by Candle Face. This is more than a collection of ghost stories; it is an actual account of lost souls crying out for help. Join me in this meaningful quest to bring peace to those who have suffered at the hands of a ghost whose existence and terror are all too real. Together, we can uncover the truth and bring solace to those haunted by Candle Face. Personal Note to My Readers I invite you on a journey that is both extraordinary and profoundly personal. This investigation is more than a collection of ghostly accounts; it’s a call to action, a plea for your assistance in a real-life investigation that blends the boundaries of the paranormal with reality. The spirits that visit me at night are not mere figments of my imagination. They are real victims of a ghostly terror, each with a story that cries out for resolution. Your role in this investigation is crucial. We need to identify the spirits’ remains, find their killers, and locate their living relatives. These tasks require a collective effort, a synergy of our combined skills, intuition, and research. This investigation is a testament to the power of collaboration in facing the unknown. It’s an acknowledgment that sometimes, the most profound mysteries require more than one mind to solve. I am confident that together, we can bring peace to these lost souls and unravel the mysteries that Candle Face has left in her wake. Thank you for joining me in this unique and meaningful endeavor, Arthur Mills 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

December 12, 2023 SPOILER ALERT: This journal entry contains insights about themes and elements 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 journal entry may reveal important plot details you’d rather discover alone. The Empty Lot Next Door  is a story rich in symbolism, psychological depth, and supernatural elements, all woven into the fabric of a coming-of-age story. While it’s a true-life ghost story, it explores the complexities of childhood, familial relationships, and the impact of one’s environment on personal development. The empty lot is at the story's heart, a space that becomes a central figure in the story. To the children in the book, myself included, it represents freedom, adventure, and endless possibilities. It’s where we play, explore, and escape from the confines of our troubled home lives. However, as the story progresses, this lot becomes gloomier. It becomes a ground for supernatural occurrences and a symbol of unknown and uncontrolled aspects of our lives. The empty lot thus serves as a metaphor for the transition from innocence to the awareness of life’s darker realities. Candle Face, the mysterious ghostly figure haunting the lot, is another pivotal element. Her appearances and interactions with us aren’t just for scares; they represent the intrusion of the past into the present. Candle Face is tied to a tragic history that reflects the broader themes of loss, unresolved trauma, and the echoes of history in our current lives. Her presence forces me to confront my fears and uncertainties, mirroring the journey from childhood to adolescence. Family dynamics play a significant role in the book. The relationships between my brothers – Dan, Felix, Ricky, and me – are complex and fraught with tension. The depiction of these relationships offers insights into the impact of family on a child’s development. The struggles within our family, including neglect, conflict, and the search for belonging, are portrayed with a raw honesty that speaks to the broader experiences of many growing up in challenging environments. The book also tackles the theme of coping mechanisms in adversity. Each character, particularly Ricky and me, develops unique ways to deal with the chaos of our lives. From Ricky’s non-violent stance to my eventual confrontation with my fears, these coping strategies highlight the varied responses individuals have to trauma and stress. Another significant aspect of the story is its exploration of the psychological impact of fear and the supernatural. The experiences with Candle Face and the various occurrences around the empty lot aren’t just plot devices; they explore the boundaries of reality, the power of belief, and the impact of fear on the human psyche. The Empty Lot Next Door  is more than a ghost story; it explores childhood, family, fear, and the transition from innocence to a more complex understanding of the world. The story resonates with readers on multiple levels, offering a compelling blend of the supernatural, psychological depth, and social commentary. 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

December 13, 2023 My wife and I were settling in for another episode of Breaking Bad, but I felt the urge to turn in early, anticipating the possibility of another nighttime visitation. As if summoned by my thoughts, a figure emerged from the shadows, striding towards my bed in a crisp business suit. His expensive dress shoes tapped loudly with each step. He approached without any preamble and, exuding an air of urgency, immediately began to speak: Surrounded by urban life, I navigated the sea of people from all walks of life. The streets, lined with towering skyscrapers and flashing signs, buzzed with the energy of a metropolis in constant motion. Beggars, busy cafes, and the distant sound of live music filled the air with vibrant and intense energy. In stark contrast, my life was a monotonous cycle of deals, profits, and endless deadlines. In the corporate world, my name was synonymous with ruthless efficiency. Boardrooms and business meetings were my battlegrounds, where I wielded my sharp acumen like a weapon. Yet, beneath this polished veneer of success, I often pondered the cost of my achievements. Was sacrificing personal joy and relationships worth the hollow accolades and fleeting triumphs? These thoughts, however, were never voiced aloud, buried deep under layers of ambition and drive. As I weaved through the crowd, lost in my reflections, a figure caught my attention—a ragged, weather-beaten man standing at the corner of Congress Avenue and Sixth Street. He held out a tattered flyer with trembling hands, his eyes full of earnest desperation. They met mine, piercing through my façade of indifference. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, his voice a mixture of hope and resignation, “Please, take a moment to read this. It’s about our savior, Candle Face. She has saved countless lives. You could be next.” I barely glanced at the flyer, my mind dismissing it as quickly as my hand did. The paper felt rough and worn, like the man’s weathered face. I let out a mocking laugh, pushing past him. The flyer fluttered to the ground, forgotten. “Save my life? I don’t have time for delusions,” I scoffed, striding away, my mind already returning to the familiar thoughts of stock prices and market strategies. That evening, back in my upscale apartment, in contrast to the bustling streets, the encounter replayed in my mind. The luxurious space felt cold and impersonal, reflecting my isolated existence. Something about the man’s eyes and his plea’s earnestness left me unsettled. I tried to focus on my work, but his words echoed in the depths of my consciousness. Sleep was elusive that night. My mind raced with financial forecasts and client meetings, yet a barely audible whisper grew steadily, weaving through my thoughts. I tried to dismiss it as stress, the consequence of a life lived in the fast lane. But then, a flickering light interrupted the darkness of my room. There, in the dim glow, stood Candle Face. Her appearance was both mesmerizing and terrifying. She seemed made of shadows and light, her form flickering like a candle flame. Her eyes were pools of infinite darkness, drawing me in with an inexplicable force. “Do you still disbelieve, businessman?” she asked, her voice a melody of shadows. It resonated with a haunting beauty yet carried an undercurrent of something darker, more gloomy. I found myself paralyzed, my voice barely a whisper. “This... this can’t be real. You’re an illusion,” I stammered, my confidence shattered by the surreal encounter. Her coldhearted, ghostly laugh gave me goosebumps. “I am as real as the emptiness you felt when you dismissed my disciple yesterday. Your skepticism, your disbelief, has summoned me to you.” She reached out, her hand wraithlike and scorching. Doubt and dread filled me. My world of logic and profit crumbled, revealing the fragility of my beliefs. I had spent my life chasing material success, oblivious to the spiritual void within me. As her fingers touched my forehead, memories and emotions engulfed me. I saw my life through a prism of relentless ambition, realizing the loneliness and isolation I had fostered. Moments of potential happiness and connection had been sacrificed for success. The faces of loved ones, long forgotten, flashed before my eyes, their expressions filled with sorrow and disappointment. In a final, desperate plea, I cried for mercy, for a chance to believe. But it was too late. Candle Face claimed my soul, drawing me into her world, a world beyond the physical, where the consequences of one’s actions were laid bare. The following day, my absence went largely unnoticed. The city continued its relentless pace, indifferent to one less businessman. My apartment remained pristine, a hollow testament to a life spent chasing material success, devoid of genuine human connection. And somewhere, in the bustling streets of Austin, a ragged man held out a flyer to another passerby, his eyes searching for a flicker of belief in a world too busy to notice. In his gaze, he lingered a silent plea, a hope that, perhaps this time, someone would listen before it was too late. After the businessman gave me his testimony, he stepped backward, back into the shadows in the corner of my bedroom, his shoes tapping just like before. Before disappearing completely, he had more to say: Take a moment to step back from the relentless pace of work and truly listen to those around you; their insights and stories can enrich your life in ways success alone can't. Don’t wait until it’s too late to realize that life’s true value lies in connections, not just accomplishments. Personal Note to My Readers Reflecting on the businessman’s testimony, I’m reminded of a crucial lesson: the importance of listening to the living and the unheard voices around us. In the hustle of life, we often overlook the stories and pleas of others, much like the ignored flyer. Whether a friend’s advice, a stranger’s plea, or a loved one’s silent struggle, these neglected voices hold wisdom and insights we miss in our rush. This man’s testimony isn’t solely a plea for our assistance but also his endeavor to aid us. He calls us to slow down and open our ears and hearts to the world. Let’s not wait for a supernatural encounter to realize the power of listening. Let’s start now, in our daily interactions, embracing the lessons and wisdom offered by those around us. 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

December 15, 2023 I stayed awake later than usual tonight, not expecting any visitation since these nocturnal encounters typically happen every five to eight days. My wife had retired to bed earlier, leaving me alone, idly browsing through Facebook and YouTube videos. Unexpectedly, I experienced my first encounter with a spirit while fully conscious. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a faint movement in my sunroom, which had transformed into a dark void by midnight. I watched with anticipation and trepidation as she lingered there, seemingly waiting for me. I cautiously opened the double doors, stepped inside, and approached her, perhaps too closely, prompting her to retreat a few steps. Her eyes looked weary, and her body appeared exhausted, yet there was an intense sense of desperation about her, an urgency to share her story. And so she did, her story scattered with lengthy pauses for sobs as she struggled to compose herself and convey her haunting message. Here’s her story: It was the Autumn of 2011, a season of change, but it was the beginning of an unending nightmare for me. It started innocently enough, like any other dream, just a dark bedroom, cold and quiet. The kind of silence that feels heavy and oppressive. But from the shadows, a figure moved, a crawling silhouette, its movements deliberate. It was Candle Face, the phantom, a legend from my hometown of Austin, Texas. She approached the foot of my bed, her form barely more than a wisp in the darkness, and slowly, deliberately, rose to kneel before me, waiting for my response. It was a ritual, a sacred and terrifying communion. And every time she asked, her voice barely a whisper, “Do you believe?” I did believe. I always did, even when folks in town would laugh it off as superstition. I wasn’t lying. “Yes,” I’d whispered back, my heart hammering against my ribs, a primal fear and exhilaration drumbeat. When she spoke, her voice was like a sizzling breeze against my skin, burning yet chilling. “Thank you,” she always replied. And as suddenly as it began, I’d find myself gasping, awake in the dim light of dawn. Ready to start the day as if nothing had happened, as if the night hadn’t been filled with shadows and whispers. But the dreams changed in the following weeks, evolving into something far more menacing. I was no longer just a passive observer in my nightmares. Candle Face, this haunted being of darkness and dread, took me to the voids of terror, letting me witness the horrors she inflicted upon the disbelievers. As their screams echoed in those desolate spaces, she would turn to me, her face obscured, a paradox of shadows and fear, and whisper, “Bring more to me.” Those words hung in the dark of the night, an echo in my mind as I’d jerk awake, bathed in sweat, the terror lingering like a bad aftertaste. One evening, an ordinary night like any other, the room around me began to shift subtly as I lay in bed watching TV. It felt more tangible, as if the line between dream and reality had blurred, the boundaries fraying like old fabric. She came again, slithering from the shadows, a formless fear manifesting. But this time, her presence bore an intense, unmistakable purpose. “Find them,” she hissed, her voice scratching the very walls of my soul, a sound that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. “Bring me the disbelievers, and I’ll reward you.” My voice wavered but held firm, “I believe in you, nothing more. I won’t be part of this.” She drew herself closer, her form coalescing into something more solid, her voice dripping with malice, “Belief is merely the gateway; your soul is the prize.” “Bring me the disbelievers, and I’ll reward you,” she repeated, her voice a serpent’s whisper, a temptation and a threat all rolled into one. Those encounters became the rhythm of my nights, an unending cycle of fear and resistance. Her lingering whispers haunted the days, her words a constant, unnerving presence in the back of my mind. Her relentless demands consumed the nights. I resisted every single time. I’d faced my own demons before, faced darkness both within and without, and I wasn’t about to be commanded by an external one. But she, Candle Face, had her own timeline, her own patience. And it ran out. She came on a night much like any other, filled with the howling wind and a room with a thick, intense dread. As I lay there, paralyzed, she began her assault, consuming me, starting with my feet. The pain was intense and very real, a searing agony that seemed to burn me from the inside out. I could feel her taking me, piece by piece, my essence being peeled away until I became a part of her. Now, I exist, but not as myself. I’m her eyes, her witness, forever bound to the chaos she spreads. From the other side of those haunting sockets, I see the world through a shroud of darkness, the pain, the fear, and the endless night she sows. And as she moves through the night, consuming the souls of those who defy her and dare to disbelieve, I watch, powerless, trapped in the prison of my belief, a silent observer in a world of shadows and screams. The apparition retreated into the corner from whence she emerged. Heavy with desperation, her voice implored, “Help me, Ray. Please find my body somewhere in the Barton Creek Greenbelt...” Before she could utter another word, two immense skeletal arms burst from the shadows behind her. With a force so violent, her legs were lifted off the ground as she was yanked back into the darkness. Accompanying this terrifying scene was a scream so chilling, so filled with agony and fear, it seemed to echo endlessly, haunting the very air around me. I hurried downstairs, driven by a sense of urgency to document her traumatic experience. My fingers trembled, and my heart ached with empathy for her suffering, a consequence of revealing too much to me. This turmoil caused me to lose some details in the chaos of the moment. Personal Note to My Readers This is the second instance where it seems like a spirit has suffered consequences for making physical contact with me or perhaps revealing too much information. I’ve attempted to assist these lost souls, but I can’t help but fear that I haven’t fulfilled my part of the bargain. As I begin to share their pleas and stories, it becomes apparent that I may be doing more harm than good. Doubts creep in, and I worry that I’m not the right person for this task and have failed to aid them thus far. I don’t think I can handle this alone. Are there any paranormal investigators, mediums, or psychics out there who won’t shy away from helping 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

December 18, 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 journal entry may reveal important plot details you'd rather discover alone. The relationship between us, the siblings in The Empty Lot Next Door , is a complex web of camaraderie, fear, and transformation. As the youngest sibling, I, Ray, have always held a mix of admiration and apprehension toward my older brothers, Dan and Felix. Their influence on our family life has been complicated, wavering between guidance and turmoil. Dan and Felix’s tendencies towards rebellious behaviors, including substance abuse and aggressive conduct, cast a long shadow over our family dynamics. This often left Ricky and me in constant unease, navigating our interactions with them with caution and uncertainty. The instances when their actions escalated into outright abuse were particularly distressing, leaving permanent marks on both Ricky and me. Ricky’s quest for approval from Dan and Felix further complicated their relationship. His efforts to join them in activities like drinking and drug-taking were attempts to carve out his place within the family. Unfortunately, this often resulted in our brothers manipulating or harming him. Despite the tumultuous relationship, there were moments of genuine brotherhood. For instance, when Felix stood up for Ricky against a bully, it momentarily bridged the gap between us, highlighting the complex nature of our brotherly bonds. As the youngest, I often observed and sometimes mediated the chaos. Dan and Felix's recklessness profoundly influenced me, shaping my perception of family dynamics and brotherhood. Balancing loyalty to my brothers with awareness of their harmful actions was a continuous struggle. Our paths diverged as we aged, with Dan and Felix eventually moving out. This departure brought a mix of relief and unresolved emotions. The legacy of our relationship with them continued to impact Ricky and me, influencing our understanding of family and relationships. In a significant turn of events, my relationship with my brother Dan has dramatically improved. This evolution in our relationship was instantaneous –over a phone call in 2022. That conversation, the first in nearly 13 years, brought understanding and forgiveness. The physical distance that once separated us eventually became a bridge to a new kind of closeness. Once scarce and strained, our conversations transformed into meaningful exchanges where we shared life experiences and laughter and even acknowledged our past difficulties. These dialogues have been crucial in redefining our relationship, allowing us to connect as brothers. The change in our dynamic is particularly evident during our current interactions. When we meet now, a genuine sense of camaraderie and respect is present, which was missing in our earlier years. We reminisce about our childhood with a sense of nostalgia, acknowledging both the good and the bad times with a newfound understanding. These moments of reflection have been therapeutic, helping us to heal old wounds and build a stronger bond. This transformation also brought new insights into the nature of brotherhood. It taught us that sibling relationships, like any other, require effort, understanding, and the willingness to see each other as individuals with their own paths and struggles. Our story shows that even the most strained sibling relationships can evolve, leading to deeper connections and mutual respect. The sibling relationship in The Empty Lot Next Door  is marked by complexity and paradoxes. It’s a story woven with fear, conflict, and moments of brotherly connection. Our experiences, though fraught with challenges, were crucial in shaping our development and worldview. 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