Subjects of Interest:
Candle Face Chronicles
The Lost Souls
February 20, 2024
Last night, I woke up from my usual middle-of-the-night routine—a trip to the bathroom—only to find a dripping-wet man standing by the couch when I returned. He was holding a beer bottle, and right away, I realized he wasn’t a burglar or intruder, but another spirit in need of my help.
I approached him, offering a handshake, but he pulled back, keeping a cautious distance. I was expecting that, so I sat down and got comfortable, prepared for his testimony. He looked like he was ready to talk, too. And so, his story began.
The Texas sun was just starting to dip, painting long shadows across Sixth Street. I was standing there, taking it all in, feeling like I’d finally made it. Months without a drink—it was something I never thought I’d manage. I wanted to prove I could be around it all—music, bars, people having a good time—without falling back into my old habits.
The street was buzzing that night, full of life and energy. Music spilling out of every doorway, laughter rolling through the air. Even though I was by myself, I felt like I belonged, like I was part of something bigger. I played a few games of pool, grabbed some street food, and for the first time in forever, I was really enjoying myself—no alcohol involved.
But then, things changed. A group of kids came up, handing out flyers like their lives depended on it. They had this wild look in their eyes, like they’d seen something no one else could understand. I tried to dodge them, but one girl stepped right in front of me. Tears were streaming down her face as she shoved a flyer into my hand, telling me it would save my life.
I glanced at it—a picture of a pretty little girl who they said was their deity. I didn’t buy into it. I mean, it was obviously some bizarre cult thing. The girl, though—the way she looked at me, like she was desperate and furious all at once—she said something about being punished if I didn’t believe. I just shook my head and walked off, chalking it up to a bad night for her.
I needed to get away from all that noise, so I headed down to Lady Bird Lake. It was quieter there, the air cooler. It felt like a good place to clear my head.
That’s when I heard it—a faint splash, then a child crying out for help. I didn’t even think. I ran toward the water, kicked off my shoes, and dove in. There she was, this little girl struggling to keep her head above water. I swam out and grabbed her, pulling her back toward the shore.
But when she spoke, it stopped me cold. ‘Why did you save me? Take me back,’ she said. Her voice—it wasn’t right. It didn’t match her small frame, and there was something so... wrong about the way she said it. I tried to calm her down, but she started pulling at me, dragging me back into the lake. She was impossibly strong, stronger than any kid could be.
Then her face—it changed. It wasn’t a little girl anymore. It was a girl with a burnt face. My heart felt like it froze right then and there.
I tried to fight her off, but she was relentless. She pulled a bottle out of the water—it just appeared in her hand—and shoved it against my lips. I begged her to stop, but she just laughed. The bottle tipped, and I couldn’t stop her. I swallowed, choking on the burn of it, and she just kept laughing.
I don’t know how long it lasted, but I could feel myself sinking. I was so weak, and she was so... powerful. My last thoughts were full of regret. I couldn’t believe it—after everything, they’d think I went back to the bottle. That I couldn’t stay sober. That was how they’d remember me.
Days later, they found my body. The papers said it was alcohol poisoning, that I must’ve fallen in the lake drunk. My friends, my family—they mourned the man they thought I was, not knowing the truth. It wasn’t the drink that killed me. It was that little girl.
And that girl with the flyers? I wonder if she ever thinks about me. Does she regret that night? Or does she take pride in what happened? Either way, regret is mine now—forever.
After he wrapped up his story, he took a step back. I caught myself staring at the beer bottle in his grip. Noticing my curiosity, he explained, “This bottle’s become part of me—my reminder and a sign to everyone trapped in Candle Face’s lair. It brands me as a drunk, a man who lost to his cravings.” With that, he took a sip, turned around, and disappeared into the portal.
Personal Note to My Readers
While listening to his testimony, I couldn’t help but think about the girl handing out flyers. How deep did her regrets go? Did she lie awake every night, haunted by the faces of those she believed she was helping, or—somewhere inside—did she take grim satisfaction in Candle Face’s curse as it unfolded?
The tragedy of this spirit—a sober man overtaken by forces beyond his control—leads me to consider all those who’ve met Candle Face’s wrath. How many people left home one night and never returned, their stories never told? And as our days roll on, how many more will become trapped by Candle Face, fates sealed by a flyer clutched in their trembling hands?
Thank you for walking these dimly lit streets of Austin with me, through the murky waters of Lady Bird Lake (Town Lake). May these stories stay with you, challenging all of us to consider fate, the power of belief, and the indelible marks we leave on the world—and on each other.
Is Candle Face real?
This is a complex and deeply personal question. On the one hand, there's the possibility that Candle Face is a manifestation of my childhood trauma, a figure created by my mind to cope with fear and emotional turmoil. On the other hand, the consistent details, physical evidence, and shared experiences with others suggest that Candle Face may be a genuine supernatural entity. Whether Candle Face is real or a creation of my psyche, her impact on my life has been undeniably profound. Ultimately, the answer to this question is up to you.
How are you able to communicate with the dead? Are you a psychic or medium?
I don’t consider myself a psychic or medium, although many in the paranormal community believe I have some kind of gift, perhaps one that I haven’t fully tapped into yet. Unlike those who claim to communicate with any spirit, my ability seems limited to connecting with Candle Face’s victims and Candle Face herself. While I’m not sure how this works, the connection is strong and focused on these particular Lost Souls, allowing me to share their stories and seek justice for them.
Do you use AI to create your content?
From October 2023 to around March 2024, I personally wrote the short descriptions you see on Google and social media platforms when my web pages or journal entries are shared or found in search results. These descriptions are those brief, 160-character summaries that pop up beside the URL. It was challenging to condense complex ideas into such a small space.
By March 2024, I began letting Wix, my website host, handle this task for me. Their AI generates these summaries much faster and often with more precision than I could manage within that tight character limit. It was a practical decision to let the system take over this small aspect of my work, allowing me to focus more on my writing and investigations.
The web pages and journal entries themselves are entirely my own. My writing encompasses a wide range of topics, including the testimonies of the Lost Souls, my investigations into Candle Face/Isabel, my books like Isabel: The Forgotten Daughter of La Llorona and The Haunted Handbook, as well as other works and research. Everything I write is rooted in my decades of experience in writing (over ten books in 15 years) and my 30+ years of expertise in intelligence analysis, missing persons cases, and human trafficking investigations. The core content you read always comes from me.
By early March 2025, I decided to create a Shopify account to sell copies of Isabel: The Forgotten Daughter of La Llorona, The Haunted Handbook, and to look for caretakers for The Scrolls of Souls. It was a tremendous amount of work to manually transfer all 130 journal entries from Wix to Shopify and recreate the Google SEO titles and descriptions for each entry. Shopify’s blogging platform also required a summary for each journal entry. Summarizing my work was taking around 30 minutes per entry, which became overwhelming and unsustainable.
To streamline the process, I allowed AI to create the summaries for me by uploading each journal entry and letting the AI generate the SEO descriptions, summaries, and ALT text for images. Here's a clear breakdown of what is AI-generated:
- Some journal entry titles.
- Nearly all SEO journal descriptions (up to 160 characters).
- Nearly all summaries (which are only available in the backend and not visible to the public).
Everything else you read comes from me, whether it’s documenting testimonies from the Lost Souls, researching Candle Face/Isabel, or writing my books. The AI simply handles the tedious, mechanical parts of the process, leaving the writing, storytelling, and investigations entirely in my hands.
I review all AI-generated summaries and descriptions to ensure they accurately represent the essence of my writing. My decision to use AI for these backend tasks is about maintaining efficiency and allowing me to focus on what truly matters: writing, storytelling, investigations, and giving voice to the Lost Souls, protecting the Fugitives, investigating Candle Face/Isabel, and exploring new projects. Your experience as a reader is shaped by my work, not by AI.
Why did you end the podcast?
I decided to cancel the Candle Face Chronicles Podcast for two key reasons. First, while the Get Haunted Network is a fantastic community for paranormal entertainment, it wasn't the right fit for the serious and important nature of my work with Candle Face Chronicles. The network's lighthearted tone didn’t align with my mission.
Second, the friends and family of one of Candle Face's victims reached out and asked me to stop discussing their loved one on the podcast because it was causing them too much pain. Their request made me realize that my work, while well-intentioned, was unintentionally hurting those who are still living and grieving.
These reasons led me to end the podcast, but I remain committed to continuing my mission to uncover Candle Face’s origins and methods with a renewed focus on compassion and respect for the living.
Why did you stop using www.candleface.com and start using www.branchingplotbooks.com?
I have had the branchingplotbooks.com domain since 2012, but I transferred the domain to Shopify to use it as my storefront. I needed to do this because Isabel: The Forgotten Daughter of La Llorona can't be published or sold via Amazon's Kindle Direct Publishing because of its spiral binding requirement. The same goes for The Haunted Handbook.
I decided to sell them, along with most of my other books, on Shopify because it allows me to provide a more streamlined and reliable experience for my readers. It also enables me to have full control over my work and how it reaches my audience. Additionally, all my books are still available on Amazon (paperback and Kindle), except for Isabel: The Forgotten Daughter of La Llorona and The Haunted Handbook due to their unique binding requirements.
I also chose to use Shopify’s blogging platform, keeping all books, my journal, and the shopping experience located in one place.
I plan on keeping www.candleface.com up for the interim, but it will likely go down as well, or at least be redirected to www.branchingplotbooks.com. In the end, I want my work to be more streamlined and easier for the paranormal community and my readers to find my work, read and help the lost souls, protect the fugitives, and care for the Scrolls of Souls.
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