The haunted attraction world is a lot like the horror movie world. In both, you find lavish productions backed by big money, tiny operations slapped together with little more than love and vague inspiration, and everything in between.

In my earliest memory of a haunted attraction, there was this chintzy fall carnival somewhere in the middle of Nowhere, North Carolina that featured a spookhouse located somewhere off to the side of the main attractions, almost as an afterthought. After spying this ramshackle eyesore, I badgered my Dad to let me go through. He of course, shook a wise head, explaining that it would give me nightmares, and then listed off the short chain of events that would basically culminate in being a huge pain is his ass.

This of course (mainly the nightmares part, but maybe the pain-in-the ass part too) only encouraged me. I proceeded to cajole my two brothers into joining my crusade, and as the night wore on, the old man broke down.
Dad bought tickets from a man with whom he shared a condescending smile, then stood and watched as my brothers and I entered the darkness.

The first few steps? Nothing. Then it happened.

Out of the pitch black, a light strobed for only the tiniest fraction of a second, illuminating a headless corpse towering above us. We bolted, scrambling for the entrance and screaming like banshees.

My Dad met us with a knowing laugh. But he had listened to two solid hours of cajoling. He had paid his hard-earned cash. The pleasure of saying “I told you so” just wasn’t enough. He made us turn around and march right back into that rickety funhouse, with explicit instructions to only come out through the exit this time. We made a valiant effort, running past the flashing headless horror and into a short hall that led to a stairway. The first step activated a very loud buzzer that sent us all scrambling back once again, preferring our irate father to the unknown.

It took a couple of years before I was ready to venture into another of these artificial haunts, but when I did it was Disney’s extremely polished and very kid-friendly Haunted Mansion. I suppose it helps that this is a ride, and not a walkthrough, so escape is not an option.

Over the years, I made a point of checking out as many of these adventures as possible, no matter how corporate or ghetto. As a patron of scary stuff, there’s one bit of advice I would give to any would-be house haunters out there, and it’s the same I’d give to up and coming filmmakers: be original. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve exited the “Trail of Fear” or “House Of Doom” to find myself chased by a guy with a chainless McCulloch and a Leatherface mask.

No, I’m not saying anybody should leave the chain on that sucker.

Eighty percent of your local spookhouses, -or at least eighty percent of mine- have a sort of “rogues gallery of film fiends” motif going on. Pinhead’s Graveyard in Asheville is set in a remote cornfield. A sucker for Barker’s demon, I made the drive out a couple of years ago, finding I was one of the first brave souls of the evening. As I approached the entry, the guy playing Leatherface approached me and asked if I could tie his tie. So much for a sense of menace.
Once a proper group of ticket buyers was assembled, the guide took us through a trail cut into the high corn, stopping to give warning about whichever baddie might be approaching. All the usual suspects put in appearances, including Myers, Jason, Freddy and a southern-accented Pinhead. While I applaud the efforts of these fine folks to pay tribute to our favorite celebrity slashers, it occurs to me that I would have been much more frightened by something less…”franchisey”.

Before closing in 2004, The Haunt Factory was the reigning king of dark attractions in this region. The theme was that of a factory commissioned by some shadowy agency, apparently for the sole purpose of producing large quantities of dangerous toxic waste. A terrible series of accidents has left the building infested with mutations, ghosts, and weird phenomena. Lots of inventive animatronics and well-constructed head trips made for a satisfying scare experience that rises above that of the usual guy in a mechanic’s suit jumping out from a cloud of artificial fog.

Ripley’s Haunted Adventure in Gatlinburg boasts cutting edge fright technology, decent acting from the staff, and a sweet storyline: an abandoned coffin factory where the former proprietors were rumored to have engaged in nefarious activities. If you’ve never walked through a vast dark room full of hanging, plastic-wrapped corpses, this may be your only chance.

It has become popular here in the Bible belt for churches to put on a seasonal “Hell House” or “Judgment House”, where patrons can witness various scary (if not spooky) scenarios depicting the results of bad decisions such as having sex, drug use, and presumably dancing.
Nothing against Christians, but I figure they get most of the other major holidays, they should let us heathens have Halloween.

As the wind becomes crisp and the leaves become yellow, I find myself looking forward to venturing into this year’s crop of terror trails, charity charnel houses, and fall festival funhouses. Somewhere out there, a guy is taking the chain off a Husqvarna, determined to be the scariest thing that ever happened to a gaggle of giggly teens. I’m cracking open a cold one for that guy, and wishing him well.

Can I get that tie for you buddy?

I’d love to hear some haunted attraction memories –lame, weird, or even “cute”- from you jitter-junkies. Hit me with some comments. Meantime, check these links.

Pin Heads Graveyard
The Haunt Factory
Laff in the Dark
Hallowen TV

Read all of Patrick Green’s articles and reviews at Grave Misgivings