Subjects of Interest:
Candle Face Chronicles
The Lost Souls
December 7, 2023
It’s been a week since my last nocturnal visitor, and I’ve started to wonder if they’ve moved on. It’s strange—what once filled me with dread now has me waiting, even hoping, for another encounter. I’ve stopped taking afternoon naps so I’ll be tired by nightfall, and instead of staying up late, I’m turning in early. I want to be ready if another spirit shows up.
So far, my role has been simple: I listen to their stories and write them down. Even though I haven’t made a real difference yet, I’m holding on to the hope that someday I’ll be able to guide these spirits to the peace they’re seeking.
Then, something finally happened. Right after I finished saying my prayers, I noticed movement in the shadows of my room, as if they were dancing. Slowly, the shadow took shape, forming into a young woman. She walked toward me with urgency, like every second mattered, and I could feel how desperate she was to speak. Here’s what she told me:
It started at a gas station. I was trying to escape the encroaching night, and as I walked inside, I noticed a young girl with messy hair pass me. Her presence tugged at a memory—a story I’d heard at the women’s group home where I was staying.
Late at night, we’d gather and talk about the ghost of a girl who died in a fire. They said she haunted those who doubted her, punishing skeptics with vengeance. At the time, the story barely registered. I was too wrapped up in my own struggles—my mental health, my demons. The legend seemed like a distraction from problems that were far more real to me.
That night, as I stood in the soft glow of the gas station lights, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “If she were real,” I said to myself, “she’d know life has scarier demons.”
After leaving the gas station, I decided to take the longer route back to the group home. I wanted some quiet, time to gather my thoughts. The path wound through a stretch of woods off the main road. The trees rustled gently in the breeze, and for a moment, it felt peaceful.
But then, I felt it—a prickle on the back of my neck, hot and sharp, like someone was watching me. I quickened my pace, trying to shake off the feeling, but then I heard it: a whisper, so faint I almost missed it. “Believe...”
My heart pounded as I spun around, but there was nothing there. Just the woods, stretching endlessly into the dark. I cursed my imagination and started walking again, faster this time.
That’s when I saw the glow. It came from the woods to my right—a soft, flickering light. Curiosity pulled me toward it, and I found an old, weathered tent hidden among the trees. The flaps were unzipped, and inside, a single candle burned. Sitting next to it was a little girl. Her eyes were pools of sorrow, and her gaze locked onto mine like she was looking straight into my soul.
“Do you believe now?” she asked, her voice soft.
I froze, stammering, “I…I don’t know what to believe.”
The wind roared suddenly, snuffing out the candle. Night swallowed the tent, and she was gone.
I ran. Regret pressing down on me with every step. Why had I taken that path? Why had I mocked the legend? For days after, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was still there, her presence lingering in the woods. Every flicker of light, every rustling leaf, seemed to carry the same question: Do you believe?
A week later, I found myself drawn back to the gas station. I didn’t want to go, but something inside me wouldn’t let it go. I needed to know if the tent was still there. It was. This time, the flaps were zipped shut. My hands trembled as I unzipped them.
Inside, the space was filled with candles, their soft glow lighting up every corner. And there she was, standing in the center. The flames lighted her face.
“Why?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Why me?”
“You needed to believe,” she said. “In life, you fought your demons, but you never believed in me. You invalidated my pain, my existence.”
Tears streamed down my face as I said, “I believe now. I see you. I understand.”
The candles flared, their flames stretching toward me. She stepped closer until her face was inches from mine. “It is too late,” she said softly.
And then everything 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 wasn’t just a myth to scare children anymore; she had become a symbol—a reflection of how deeply humans need to be seen, believed, and understood.
The spirit finished her story and looked at me, waiting for a response. For the first time during one of these visits, I sat upright. I reached out my hand, and she mirrored the gesture. But before we could touch, an ear-splitting screech erupted from the shadowy corner of my room. She pulled back instantly, retreating into the portal and vanishing.
I rushed downstairs, determined to capture every detail while it was fresh in my mind.
Personal Note to My Readers
This encounter made me reflect on how much my view of fear and the supernatural has changed. At first, these nightly visits terrified me, but now they spark curiosity and a sense of purpose.
The young woman’s story was deeply human—a need for acknowledgment and validation wrapped in a supernatural experience. Reaching out to her wasn’t just about helping; it was about recognizing her pain and showing her that she mattered.
Even the screech, which would have sent me into a panic before, only strengthened my resolve. I’ve come to see these spirits not just as haunting figures but as mirrors, reflecting parts of ourselves we often avoid. Their stories challenge us to confront what we believe—and why it matters.
This encounter reminded me that belief isn’t just about ghosts or legends. It’s about connection, understanding, and the power of listening.
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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