Of course, I could have gotten his name wrong, because he only said his name that once, and he never corrected me when I called him Candlemass. But it's what I almost remember him saying.
"But you can call me Jack." He said, something I remember clearly. Or, at least, seem to. Thinking abut it, I probably would have called him that. After he told me his name, I automatically asked him what he was doing in my room. He smiled again, and it looked like his smile went up too far.
"I take little children who are bad, and stay up too late."
I have some other random memories of him at that time as well, but he
didn't start to take an active role in my life until I was about fourteen.
During the time I was twelve, my parents were seriously beginning to consider taking me to a psychologist or sleep clinic or something because of the strangeness of my sleeping habits during that time. According to my mom, I would wake up almost every day for a month or two at precicely three-o-clock, and go and sleep on the couch in the living room.
Of course, my mom would hear me leave my room and come out and ask me why I wasn't in bed. Apparently, I would inform her that Candlemass kept whispering to me, and he wouldn't let me sleep, so I left him there.
I don't remember any of this, but my mom was pretty clear on it. During this time, my bed sheets and different toys of mine would start popping up scorched, as if I'd held a lamp too close to my bed, or I'd held it over a flame and let it burn briefly. This apparently freaked out my mom, and I do remember getting into arguments with my dad about playing with fire, and telling him vehemently it wasn't me. I wouldn't actually tell him who it was, because I didn't want him to think I was crazy, though.
I don't really remember how my toys or sheets got burned or anything- I almost think things burned where they made contact with his skin, because I remember him always being very careful about what he touched and where.
As you can guess, Candlemass wasn't too great of a friend. I don't think I can comfortably call him imaginary, because a) I was a little old for them at twevle, and b) he was such a departure from my normal personality I doubt I could have made him up to be my friend.
Candlemass was a little possessive of me. He'd ask me questions when I got into bed, after I shut off the lights. The way he showed up, too, was always really weird. He'd always be there when I wasn't looking, and I'd finally notice he was there because I saw flickering out of the corners of my eyes. He'd just kind of be there, watching me sleep, and then when I noticed him, we would have sort of conversations.
If I went to bed too late, he'd always ask me why, and say if I wasn't careful the goblins would get me. Thinking about it now, it's almost funny, but I was terrified then. He'd tell me loads of stories and tell me old rhymes.
One of the rhymes I liked the best went something like "With stoutest wrists, and loudest boasts, he thrusts his fists against the posts, and still insists he sees the ghosts." because his "s"s were always really sharp.
He'd also scare me for kicks, aside for just being a little creepy and intimidating in general. Sometimes,he'd surprise me by hiding in the crawl space between my bedroom and the bathroom, and crawl out of it, laughing just after I got into bed.
His voice was pretty hoarse sounding, so his laugh was more like a cackle. Once, and I don't know if I dreamed this or not, I remember seeing my closet lit up from the inside like the light was on, but flickering, like there was a fire inside. But I didn't get up to check it out, and I think I fell back asleep.
During these times, I would only ever see Candlemass in my bedroom, or hear him in the crawl space, where he would sometimes scratch or tap when I was getting ready for bed.
It was only when I was fourteen that I started seeing him elsewhere.
As I was saying, I started seeing him outside the house around fourteen years old. Near my house is a rather small, local lake. Not many people go there for recreation except for some seasonal fishing.
It was around this time I had discovered an old concrete building in the ramble of woods near our property- the good thing about this land was that it wasn't private property at that point. It was still a part of state government land.
Of course, it being rather old and lost in a kind of jungle, it was unused for many years. My mom and dad always forbade me from going near it, but I was really curious. I managed to glean that it had once been a hospital, and before that a sanitorium back in the day. Don't ask me why, but I've always been kind of fascinated with these things, and despite the fact it was dangerous and falling apart, I really wanted to see what was inside.
I would try to get as close to it as possible and try to see inside. What made me actually go inside one day was out of sheer curiosity and some rebellion. Because, of course, I was fourteen so I knew everything.
The construction itself is pretty simple- it's three floors, with a central wing, and two smaller side wings. It isn't very large (I'm pretty sure it's still there today), maybe only an acre, but definitely a suitable nesting ground for animals and the homeless. Of course, I didn't think about this then.
And, in any case, I remember it being pretty abandoned when I went to check it out. I don't remember any graffiti, but there was trash littering the grounds around it and inside the building when I went inside. But I could clearly see in through the front door, and out through the opposite back door, and there was actually plenty of light in it, despite the riot overgrowth of vegetation.
I went in and poked around the front reception desk, and I was sifting through some old papers when I heard a noise I can't really explain. It was like a person wailing, but the sound was so distorted, it didn't sound like a human at all. I think I went to run out the other side of the building when I either ran into something on my way out, or something hit me, but in either case I kind of flew out the back door as a result, and just started running.
When I finally got the guts to stop running, I was in a part of the woods I didn't recognize at all. I was terrified. I was completely lost, and my arm was hurting where I'd hit it, and my skin was stinging from the weeds and nettles hitting me as I ran.
I kept walking, though, trying to look for a place that was familiar to me. I was beginning to think I was almost in someplace I knew when I found the huge tree.
It was clearly over a hundred years old, probably closer to two hundred. I'm not sure what kind, because despite it being summer, it wasn't bearing leaves. It looked kind of scorched, so I think it was pretty much dead. But the trunk was thick, maybe close to five feet around, and squat, and the branches spread far overhead, and rope was strung up in the branches.
I don't know exactly what happened after that, but I knew I saw Candlemass standing, watching me from the other side of the tree, maybe twenty feet away from me.
Very softly, he called my name and motioned me to come over, but I left at that point. I'm not sure if I was more terrified to see him outside of the house, or just because he was in the forest.
After that, I began to see him more often.
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