The Scene staff
When I was young, Halloween was one of the most anticipated days of the year.
I never knew its origin until recently, but as children, we rarely concerned ourselves with the why. We just knew Halloween was a really big deal.
I loved to see the houses decorated with ghosts, scarecrows, witches, spider webs and jack-o-lanterns. I liked going to community events, especially dances at school, the rec center and city hall, where everyone wore costumes.
Most of all, I couldn’t wait to see how much candy I could accumulate while trick-or-treating on Halloween night.
Wow, those were the days.
One year, my dad took me and my siblings to a haunted house. I don’t recall the name of it. I was 6 or 7 at the time, and it was terrifying.
When I arrived, fear wasn’t on my mind. I was going to have fun. I thought nothing could scare me. Boy, was I wrong.
It was dark outside as we walked up to the big, creepy house. Some of the people leaving were crying, laughing or just filled with excitement. Others I couldn’t see, but I heard their screams in the distance.
We were directed to go up a flight of stairs, where the tour began and, for me, ended in a hurry.
The hallway at the top seemed like the longest hallway in the world. About 20 feet down, I saw a dumbwaiter. But I was more worried about the ghosts and zombies roaming around.
As soon as we got to the dumbwaiter, a man with a bloody mask and an ax jumped out of it. I was so scared that I kicked the monster in the crotch and ran behind my dad with one thought on my mind: “Let’s go.”
Tears running down my face and screams at the top of my lungs forced Dad to es`cort me out of the haunted house.
When we got outside, we had to wait on the rest of my family, so Dad took the time to tell me a funny ghost story after I calmed down a little.
Here’s how it went:
It was Hallows’ Eve in a small town, where everyone knew everyone by name. It was so small that that you could hear the neighbor’s dog barking all over town.
All day long, the people had been running up and down the streets, causing a lot of commotion. But every once in a while, it would get quiet, and they could hear a voice saying, “I’m gonna getcha.
When I getcha, gonna eatcha. Mmmmm!”
But the people paid it no mind, except for one young man. He started asking the citizens of the town, “Can you hear the voice that eats you when he gets you?”
Hardly anyone would respond, and if they did, they’d say, “You have quite the imagination, young man.” Then they would continue whatever they were doing.
So the young man set out to prove he wasn’t crazy. He decided to follow the voice, “I’m gonna getcha. When I getcha, gonna eatcha. Mmmmm!”
“Oh my God,” he thought. “He is going to eat those people. I need to find them and save them.”
“How is he going save them?” I asked my dad, interrupting the story. “What is he going to do? He must have his own ax.”
“Well, if I tell you now, it’ll ruin the story,” he responded.
So, on he went.
The young man followed the voice to what people thought was an old abandoned house. Rumor had it that the family who lived there got bit by bats 15 years before on Halloween.
Some said every year on Oct. 31, the family gathered so they could haunt anyone who knocked on the door for trick-or-treating.
On the outside, the windows were boarded up, so you couldn’t tell if anyone was in the house. This made the young man even more scared.
He circled the house, hearing “I’m gonna getcha. When I getcha, gonna eatcha. Mmmmm!”
“I have to save them,” he thought. “No one will believe me if I tell them someone is in the house. No one has stayed in the house since before I was born.”
The young man circled the house again and found a door to an old cellar in back. He climbed down the steps, but he had no idea where to go next. He heard the voice again and realized it was more than one voice, as if a party was going on.
He followed the noise, heard laughter, then the “I’m gonna getcha” saying, then “Ughhhhhhhhh!” as if someone was disgusted.
The young man burst into the room and shouted, “Put them down or I’ll … I’ll …”
The noise stopped. The young man realized it was a family of vampires, playing a game of cards where the loser had to eat his own boogers.
“Ugh! Gross!” I told my dad. “Why was they eating they boogers?”
“Well, son,” he answered. “I don’t know. Ain’t that what they do?”
“Nah. They supposed to be drinking blood,” I said. “What happened to the boy?”
“Well, he started playing with the vampires since no one paid him any attention anyway,” Dad said.
By the time my family came out of the real haunted house, I was laughing so hard, that I forgot how scared I was.
I’m not sure if that experience, me being so scared and all, is the reason I haven’t been back to a haunted house, but that was my last one. Just sayin’…