Candle Face Victim #3: Laughter to Terror - A Night Gone Bad

Subjects of Interest:

• Candle Face Chronicles

• The Lost Souls

November 23, 2023

Just before I drifted off last night, I sensed another presence. This time, there were two of them—a man and a woman—hovering in the shadowy corner of my room, their faces hidden in the dim light.

The man spoke first, asking for my help. They needed me to serve as their voice, to tell the story of how their lives ended and reveal who was at fault. They stitched their experiences together with every sentence, forming a story of their shared fate. Here’s what they said:

I traveled to Austin with my girlfriend to visit a childhood friend. As soon as we got to his house, we decided to hit the town and check out the nightlife on Sixth Street. The bars, the energy, the music—it was everything you’d expect. We hopped from place to place, enjoying drinks, laughing, and soaking it all in.

By the time we got back to my friend’s house, we weren’t ready to call it a night. We ended up in his kitchen, cracking open more beers, and my friend passed around a little weed. We were buzzed and happy—at least until my friend started talking about a ‘presence’ haunting his house.

“She comes with rattling chains,” he said.

My girlfriend and I exchanged looks, barely able to hold back our laughter. “Rattling chains? Seriously?” she chuckled. “That’s straight out of a bad horror movie.”

“Exactly,” I added, grinning. “Ghosts are just a product of imagination.”

But my friend wasn’t laughing. He got serious, which only made us laugh harder.

“I might have exaggerated,” he said, his tone growing somber, “but she visits me in my dreams. She asks for help. She asks me to find people who believe in her.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, believe?”

He hesitated, then described the dreams—a disfigured little girl trying to communicate with him. At first, he couldn’t understand her, but over time, her words became clearer.

“I’m out,” my girlfriend said, standing up. “This is too much.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you scared?”

“No,” she replied, her voice shaking. “I don’t believe in ghosts, but this story gives me goosebumps.”

He leaned in closer. “Believe it or not, Candle Face rewards those who listen to her.”

“Candle Face?” My girlfriend and I burst out laughing.

“She hears you,” he snapped. “She’s everywhere. Always listening.”

I couldn’t resist another joke. “Does she have a list? Checks it twice?”

Our laughter filled the room, but my friend didn’t say another word. He just stood up, walked out the door, and disappeared into the night.

“Where’s he going?” my girlfriend asked, her nervousness breaking through.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying to brush it off. “He gets carried away sometimes. He’ll be back.”

Fifteen minutes later, he returned—but he wasn’t alone. Three men followed him inside.

The moment they walked in, a wave of dread hit me. One of them carried a machete, another held a large tarp. My instincts screamed at me to run, and I bolted for the back door. But the rug slipped under my feet, and before I could recover, they were on me.

“He left you behind,” one of them sneered.

The man with the tarp spread it out on the kitchen floor. “Get on the tarp,” he said, almost casually. “Makes cleanup easier.”

“Do something!” my girlfriend screamed.

I tried to stand my ground. “I’m not getting on that tarp,” I said, my voice trembling.

But my friend stepped forward, holding a cattle prod. He didn’t hesitate—he jabbed me with it, and my body seized up. I hit the ground hard. They dragged me onto the tarp.

The man with the machete didn’t waste any time. He swung it, severing my hands one by one. Another man shoved a gag into my mouth, muffling my screams as they carved me apart. The pain was unbearable, like nothing I’d ever imagined. They didn’t stop until only my torso was left intact. I was alive, but barely.

My girlfriend stood frozen, forced to watch as they tortured me. Then they turned to her, putting her through the same agony. They didn’t kill her, though. Not yet. Instead, they wrapped us both in the tarp, loaded us into the trunk of my own car, and drove off.

I remember the ride—every bump, every turn. Our blood pooled beneath us, soaking the tarp. We must have driven for an hour before the car finally stopped.

They dragged us out and dumped us into a dark gravel pit. My body was broken, my breath shallow. My girlfriend lay beside me, barely alive.

Some of my blood had spilled onto the floor of the house, but it was left unnoticed, hidden from the detectives who interviewed my friend soon after the murders. It was as if the evil surrounding that house had swallowed even the evidence.

The last thing I heard was my friend’s voice, cold and detached: “All you had to do was believe.”

Now, we’re trapped in a nightmare. This place—it’s not like anything you could imagine. Shadows move on their own, whispering things you don’t want to hear. The air is filled with the cries of souls like us—tortured, broken, lost. There’s no escape, no peace.

After the pair vanished as abruptly as they’d arrived, I rushed downstairs to record their words. This was my third encounter; fear had given way to a clear sense of purpose by now. I understand why they’re coming to me—I’m here to share their stories and help free them from Candle Face.

Personal Note to My Readers 

These two visitors left us with a frightening, unresolved story. I’m asking for your help in identifying these victims, locating where their bodies were left, and pinpointing those responsible.

Look closely at the details they shared: their final moments took place at a childhood friend’s house, which became the site of their death. We also know they traveled about an hour in the victim’s car—information that might point us to where the bodies were hidden. Are there any gravel pits within an hour of that suspect’s home?

Who are these victims, and where were they taken? We know the killer has already been questioned by detectives in his own home, but who is he? Your ideas or connections get us one step closer to resolving this. Let’s work on this case together—every bit of reasoning helps bring this story closer to its long-overdue conclusion.