I was in my early teens when I went to my first haunted house. Now, mind you, this wasn’t one of those corn field things where people chase you with sharp objects. It was actually in a mall; the upstairs part had been turned into the giant haunted house walk through. It started with clocking in like you would clock in for work, proceeded with a walk through, and ended with a bridge. Now, I realize that some of you are scoffing at this. ‘That’s not even a real haunted house,’ you may say. But to devout cowards and extreme introverts like myself, it will do.
I don’t like being scared, I don’t like things chasing me, screaming at me, touching me, this list goes on. I also see no point in walking into a dark room, filled with things you don’t recognize, knowing full well, something is in ‘said room’ that wants to cause your heart to hurt; or even stop. No thank you.
This faithful day, I accompanied my cousin and her mom through this dark maze of hysteria and bewilderment. Keep in mind, I was young and dumb; with a positive outlook that I’d survive it. I’m not that gullible anymore. As we walked up the stairs to the second floor, the thought crossed my mind, ‘What am I doing?’ Before I knew it, we were standing in line to ‘clock in’. It was just the three of us. The group before us had already gone in, above the loud sounds of compressed air, fans, and scary music; I could already hear their screams. Great. Great.
There were two guys that worked there, standing by the clock. One rested his hand on the clock, while the other watched on. My cousin’s mom clocked in first, followed by my cousin, and then myself. The clock itself made me think of a coo—coo clock. You took the time card the guy gave you and inserted it in the top of the clock, it punched your card, shot it back out, and made a little dinging noise. Of course, the first two got through it just fine but when I reached up and inserted my card to clock in, a hand burst through the front of the clock and grabbed my wrist. I screamed, releasing my time card, leaving it inside the clock. I tried to jerk my hand away but couldn’t because the grip was so firm. The hand held me there for a few seconds before releasing me, retreating back inside the clock.
It was then I realized that hand belonged to the guy leaning against the clock. Everyone laughed, me not so much.
“Oh, we got a screamer,” he announced.
His words made me think he had a precognition. And he did.
I don’t know you, Sir, but I don’t care for you right now.
When we entered the house, the first thing I noticed was the fog that assaulted me in the face. It was dark inside of course, with the occasional strobe light, but the fog was everywhere; and it was thick. It was also humid in there, which was something I didn’t expect. My cousin pushed her mom in front, then wrapped her arms around her waist from behind. I then did the same thing to my cousin. We were a tight chain of nerves as we ventured into the unknown.
The next thing I noticed was the black drapes everywhere. They hung from the ceiling, preventing us from seeing further into the maze. There were ear piercing noises happening beyond those drapes, I couldn’t figure out what they were. When we reached the first drape, my cousin’s mom reached up and pulled them apart, revealing more drapes further up. We slowly wobbled together through the drapes. When I passed through it, I realized the drapes were cut up, black, trash bags. They were everywhere, blocking the view from every directed.
For me, it was sensory overload. It was dark, with flashing lights and fog that strangled you while trash bags clung to you. But wait! There’s more--
When my cousin’s mom moved the second set of trash bag drapes, someone was there. I know this because, even though I didn’t see them, I heard them. I also heard and felt the other two’s reaction to seeing them. Whoever it was, was in costume and screamed like they were in the final try out for a roll in a horror movie. In return, we also screamed. It became a choir of screaming.
Everywhere we went, something or someone jumped out of somewhere. There were things coming out of the walls, the drapes, pretty sure the floor--
We white knuckled our way through this entire maze, jumping, screaming, and darting in different directions. At the last leg of this maze, there was a bridge. All we had to do was cross it and we were done. The other two went ahead of me. It was a metal bridge that ran through this spinning tunnel. The artwork on the tunnel was something I had never seen before. When I passed through it, I took in the odd ‘rings’ if you will, as I walked. I was halfway through the tunnel when I began to lean. I didn’t want to, but I did. I was leaning so much that I had to rest myself on the railing of the bridge. I remember grasping my ticket tightly because the guy at the front had made the comment, ‘Don’t lose your ticket. You’ll need it.’ What did that even mean? Would they not let me back out without it?
The other two stepped off the bridge and continued on while I struggled not to fall off. For the life of me, I could not understand what was happening to me. It felt like something was actually pulling me off the bridge. As I stared at the funky art on the spinning tunnel, my leaning became tipping. I was tipping over the railing of the bridge, dangerously close to falling over. In a panic, I dropped my ticket, which fell between the small gap of the bridge and tunnel. My first thought was, ‘Crap, I’ve lost my ticket.’ I think I actually yelled that, but no one heard. My second thought was, ‘I’m gonna die! If I fall off this bridge, I’ll be crushed where the bridge and tunnel meet.’
I was now halfway over the bridge, being pulled towards the tunnel art. No matter what I did, I could not pull myself upright. It was one of the scariest things I can remember from that time. Finally, I just closed my eyes. If I was going to die, I didn’t want to see it coming. And just like that, I popped straight up, as if that last 45 seconds never even happened. I stumbled off the bridge to the other side in bewilderment. What had just happened?
Later on, I learned that the tunnel is called a Vortex tunnel. Its main purpose is to create an experience of vertigo for the person walking through. It creates a loss of equilibrium as the brain receives conflicting signals from the body and its senses.
There are some sick people in this world.
I don’t like being scared, I don’t like things chasing me, screaming at me, touching me, this list goes on. I also see no point in walking into a dark room, filled with things you don’t recognize, knowing full well, something is in ‘said room’ that wants to cause your heart to hurt; or even stop. No thank you.
This faithful day, I accompanied my cousin and her mom through this dark maze of hysteria and bewilderment. Keep in mind, I was young and dumb; with a positive outlook that I’d survive it. I’m not that gullible anymore. As we walked up the stairs to the second floor, the thought crossed my mind, ‘What am I doing?’ Before I knew it, we were standing in line to ‘clock in’. It was just the three of us. The group before us had already gone in, above the loud sounds of compressed air, fans, and scary music; I could already hear their screams. Great. Great.
There were two guys that worked there, standing by the clock. One rested his hand on the clock, while the other watched on. My cousin’s mom clocked in first, followed by my cousin, and then myself. The clock itself made me think of a coo—coo clock. You took the time card the guy gave you and inserted it in the top of the clock, it punched your card, shot it back out, and made a little dinging noise. Of course, the first two got through it just fine but when I reached up and inserted my card to clock in, a hand burst through the front of the clock and grabbed my wrist. I screamed, releasing my time card, leaving it inside the clock. I tried to jerk my hand away but couldn’t because the grip was so firm. The hand held me there for a few seconds before releasing me, retreating back inside the clock.
It was then I realized that hand belonged to the guy leaning against the clock. Everyone laughed, me not so much.
“Oh, we got a screamer,” he announced.
His words made me think he had a precognition. And he did.
I don’t know you, Sir, but I don’t care for you right now.
When we entered the house, the first thing I noticed was the fog that assaulted me in the face. It was dark inside of course, with the occasional strobe light, but the fog was everywhere; and it was thick. It was also humid in there, which was something I didn’t expect. My cousin pushed her mom in front, then wrapped her arms around her waist from behind. I then did the same thing to my cousin. We were a tight chain of nerves as we ventured into the unknown.
The next thing I noticed was the black drapes everywhere. They hung from the ceiling, preventing us from seeing further into the maze. There were ear piercing noises happening beyond those drapes, I couldn’t figure out what they were. When we reached the first drape, my cousin’s mom reached up and pulled them apart, revealing more drapes further up. We slowly wobbled together through the drapes. When I passed through it, I realized the drapes were cut up, black, trash bags. They were everywhere, blocking the view from every directed.
For me, it was sensory overload. It was dark, with flashing lights and fog that strangled you while trash bags clung to you. But wait! There’s more--
When my cousin’s mom moved the second set of trash bag drapes, someone was there. I know this because, even though I didn’t see them, I heard them. I also heard and felt the other two’s reaction to seeing them. Whoever it was, was in costume and screamed like they were in the final try out for a roll in a horror movie. In return, we also screamed. It became a choir of screaming.
Everywhere we went, something or someone jumped out of somewhere. There were things coming out of the walls, the drapes, pretty sure the floor--
We white knuckled our way through this entire maze, jumping, screaming, and darting in different directions. At the last leg of this maze, there was a bridge. All we had to do was cross it and we were done. The other two went ahead of me. It was a metal bridge that ran through this spinning tunnel. The artwork on the tunnel was something I had never seen before. When I passed through it, I took in the odd ‘rings’ if you will, as I walked. I was halfway through the tunnel when I began to lean. I didn’t want to, but I did. I was leaning so much that I had to rest myself on the railing of the bridge. I remember grasping my ticket tightly because the guy at the front had made the comment, ‘Don’t lose your ticket. You’ll need it.’ What did that even mean? Would they not let me back out without it?
The other two stepped off the bridge and continued on while I struggled not to fall off. For the life of me, I could not understand what was happening to me. It felt like something was actually pulling me off the bridge. As I stared at the funky art on the spinning tunnel, my leaning became tipping. I was tipping over the railing of the bridge, dangerously close to falling over. In a panic, I dropped my ticket, which fell between the small gap of the bridge and tunnel. My first thought was, ‘Crap, I’ve lost my ticket.’ I think I actually yelled that, but no one heard. My second thought was, ‘I’m gonna die! If I fall off this bridge, I’ll be crushed where the bridge and tunnel meet.’
I was now halfway over the bridge, being pulled towards the tunnel art. No matter what I did, I could not pull myself upright. It was one of the scariest things I can remember from that time. Finally, I just closed my eyes. If I was going to die, I didn’t want to see it coming. And just like that, I popped straight up, as if that last 45 seconds never even happened. I stumbled off the bridge to the other side in bewilderment. What had just happened?
Later on, I learned that the tunnel is called a Vortex tunnel. Its main purpose is to create an experience of vertigo for the person walking through. It creates a loss of equilibrium as the brain receives conflicting signals from the body and its senses.
There are some sick people in this world.
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