Funny Memories of a Haunted House at Halloween

I can remember when I was in elementary school, the highlight of October was our school's Fall Festival. Parent volunteers and school faculty converted the parking lot into a maze of games and activities. Face painting, bean bag toss, and the dunking booth were personal favorites of mine. I enjoyed the fun aspects of Halloween not the scary and grotesque.

However, when everyone stood in line for the haunted house, I just had to go in, too. With my best friend, my mother, grandmother, and little brother, I awaited my turn to enter the dark and decorated middle school. As we drew nearer I could here screams of fright from my peers as they disappeared through the doors. I began to feel a little nervous. What was I getting myself into?

My friend and I waited anxiously, standing on tiptoe to see into the haunted house. When I finally asked my mother if she was afraid, she just smiled and shook her head. No, nothing frightened my mother, but I wasn't nearly as brave as she. I glanced around at my peers. The line behind me was long, and no one was bailing out. If I scampered out of line, everyone would smirk and laugh at the only little girl who didn't go in the haunted house.

We came to the door too quickly as I debated whether I would endure humiliating laughter or enter the foreboding house. The man holding the door open wore a frightening plastic mask that caused my two-year-old brother to scream and burst into tears. My grandmother quickly scooped him up and exited the line, saying she would meet us when we came out.

There was no turning back, though the knot in my stomach was urging me to. I started to turn, decidedly NOT going in that frightening and terrible place, only to find my mother's hand on my shoulder thrusting me forward!

"We're holding up the line," she hissed in my ear. "Go!"

Well, I did go, but only because she kept her hand pressed against my back, pushing me step by step through the darkness. I couldn't tell where I was going, nor where I was supposed to go because of the dark. The only lights were eerie and dim, illuminating spider webs and people with their guts (or spaghetti, as I later learned) spilled out on the floor. I quickly began to identify areas of deep darkness as places where ghouls and vampires popped out at me with gruesome masks and haunting laughter.

Then, just as I was sure I was going to die of fright, the exit came into view. Light, now blinding because my eyes were accustom to the darkness, shone from a cracked door. It was then that I found my legs and the will to move forward without Mother's urging. My best friend had found her courage also, and she clasped my hand in hers as we rushed headlong for the light.

But the haunted house had one last surprise for us. The varrrroom of a chainsaw greeted our ears. I glanced wildly side to side to see where the sound had come from, only to find that it was swiping at my knees!

Hopping and stumbling, my friend and I practically fell out the exit door and landed on the grass beyond. We must have been quite a humorous sight, ashen pale and trembling, because my mother just laughed and helped us to our feet saying, "That wasn't so bad, was it?"