In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. Approach the woman behind the desk. If there is a man working there, find another institution; it tends not to appear in front of men. Ask that person, as politely as you can manage, to see The Holder of Candles. She won’t look up, but you should.
On the ceiling there will be a number. Remember it. It will be nine digits. You won’t have much time to take it in, either, because as you are looking up something cold is wrapping itself around your throat. Don’t take your eyes away from the numbers on the ceiling, or you will be face to face with a horror that will drive you mad on sight.
After blacking out, you will wake up in bed at your home (or whatever you have that passes for a home) without any memory of your trip to the institution. Do not move. Do not search your room. Blur your vision and don’t focus on anything. The gaping, mutilated faces of creatures and demons hide in every corner and peer out from every doorway, and they’re waiting for you to notice them.
Something is lying in bed with you. It’s small, barely larger than a cat, but heavy. And moving its way toward your face.
Don’t look at it, turn and stare indirectly at a wall if you have to, but be warned. Even focusing on this creatures shadow will drive you insane at a glance.
Just as it begins to whisper in your ear, interrupt it with this question, “What will light my way?” If you are not quick enough, it will whisper to you in a sickly, wet voice every place it has watched you from your entire life. As it tells you where you were being watched, you will remember faces in dark corners and eyes peering from closets that you had blocked out and ignored, and they’ll drive you mad with horror.
If you are quick enough with your question, what started as a whisper will turn into an unearthly scream in your ear. If you do not flinch, you will be sitting across from a grinning woman in a small wooden chair with a small table between the two of you. Her body is normal and draped in a white gown, but her face is stretched and distorted. Her eyes bulge to the size of baseballs, and her grin is easily the length of your forearm, displaying an unnatural number of teeth. Her head is at least the size of a beach ball.
There is a candle sitting on the table. You must give her the number if you can still remember it. Failure will result in her opening her mouth and as you sit there immobile she will slowly bite your head off clean, and you will survive being swallowed and slowly digested to death. If you succeed, she will show no sign, but will sit complacently while you pick up the candle and leave. Her eyes will follow you out.
If you light the candle, an image will dance in its flames and its light will illuminate the darkest of shadows.
The candle is Object 284 of 538. Never glance at the image, or your eyes will grow wide... and a grin will spread across your face.