The Haunted Barn

I am the most easily frightened person on planet earth. If you say to me, “Emily, I am now going to hide behind this wall, then jump out at you as you walk by,” I will still jump out of my skin and scream bloody murder when it happens. I went to Halloween Express once, and made a solemn vow that same day never to return. The scariest movie I have ever watched is Coraline, and to this day I cannot look at a LaLa Loopsy doll without having a strong urge to cast it into a deep well.

Despite being hyper-aware of –and extremely okay with- my low tolerance for the scary and macabre, several years ago there came a time in my life when I let down my guard for just one night, and I have regretted it ever since. It was the night I went to the haunted barn. The things I saw there are permanently burned onto the backs of my eyelids, and when the house is quiet I swear I can still hear my own screams echoing in my ears.

Before we get into the descriptions of the horrors I witnessed in the barn, let me throw some blame around. Callie (you can read about Callie and her strong opinions about the legality of taxing dairy products in my earlier post: The Sparkle Sisters Take Lexington) was the one who invited me and Elizabeth (my sister, who is just as easily scared as me) to go. I was immediately dubious, but Elizabeth said, AND I QUOTE, “How bad can it be?”

That’s probably what Custer said before the battle of Little Big Horn.

So, that is the story of how I ended up riding in a car down winding country roads toward certain doom on a dark, cold night. I distinctly remember being torn between wanting the car to break down so we would have to cancel our plans and being terrified that if it did break down a murderer would leap out from the underbrush and harvest our organs.

As we pulled into the parking lot, we saw the silhouette of a child, and Elizabeth said, “Ok, if kids that little are here, it can’t be that bad.” However, when the car turned and the headlights shone in that direction, we saw that it was in fact, not a real child, but a mannequin.

I wish I was making this up.

We then entered the waiting area, where a TV was playing a variety of unsettling movie clips. When these were over, it would switch to a monitor of the inside of the barn at about the halfway point. You’d think that, having been given this glimpse into the hell-hole I was about to enter, I would have seen sense and run screaming from the universe. But the video footage did not at all encompass the reality of what we were about to experience. We watched as a group of people walked calmly onto the screen, watched politely as a man in a scary costume jumped in front of them and did his thing, then moved on. In hindsight, I believe these people must have been brain dead and soulless to remain so calm. Elizabeth said, “See, look at those people, they don’t look scared. It can’t be that bad.” Even though I didn’t know just how bad it was going to be, I didn’t believe her. At this point, only strong loyalty to Callie and my desire to not ruin her fun kept me going. So, Callie, if you’re reading this, you owe me big time.

At last, the portal to hell opened, and –grasping one another’s hands- Elizabeth, Callie and I plunged headlong into the darkness. Creepy music blared and strobe-lights flashed, illuminating ghostly figures. Some were just life-size figurines and some were real people, but the flashing lights eliminated any sense of reality and made it impossible to tell the difference –until they moved.

First came the men bearing chainsaws. We heard the whirring of the blades first, and then, one after another, psychopaths in white masks emerged from the shadows and surrounded us. I yelled either “Don’t kill me!” or “Please don’t hurt me!” I can’t recall which, but right before I physically assaulted one of them in order to defend myself, I remembered: This isn’t real. They aren’t allowed to hurt me without getting in legal trouble. This gave me the courage I needed to plough through their ranks, but the nightmare wasn’t over yet.

There was no going back. The only way out was forward. Clutching one another in terror, we rounded the corner. It was at this point that I began crying out to Jesus and repeating, “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength,” over and over again. Meanwhile, God was either having a really good laugh or saying, “Sorry, kid. This is what you get for celebrating Satan’s birthday.”

The person who jumped out at us next was a child in a mask, but I wasn’t thinking clearly, so when I saw him I loudly cried, “OH MY WORD, THEY HAVE MIDGETS!” and then I closed my eyes and all my senses shut down. My eyes remained closed for the rest of the time. So did Callie’s. This meant that poor Elizabeth became our leader by default, and had no choice but to keep her eyes wide open and drag us through the labyrinth as we hung onto her for dear life. If not for her courage, we would still be in that dreadful place.

The halfway point that the people before us had passed through so serenely was a sort of evil butcher’s shop which strongly implied cannibalism. I know this because the when the butcher jumped out to say his piece, I foolishly opened my eyes and had the chance to take in my surroundings while I cowered in fear. By some miracle, we escaped with our lives and turned the next corner. My eyes snapped shut, and this time, they stayed that way. Callie must have kept hers open though, because the next thing I heard that wasn’t us screaming (a constant throughout the whole experience) was Callie saying, “Oh no, guys, they have clowns, I hate clowns,” followed by the beeping of bicycle horns. A clown in a glass cage yelled, “Did you come here to see me die?!?” at Elizabeth, who squeaked, “No!” and hauled us away, toward the exit, all of us screaming as we ran for our lives past the monsters. When we finally emerged, and thought we were safe, we turned to see one of the creatures of the darkness had followed us out and was chasing us. With much additional screaming, we bolted and did not stop until we reached safety.

As our tale draws to a close, there are three things I want you to know.

1.Everything you just read is true. I really did almost attack a chainsaw-wielder, and I really did call upon the Lord in complete desperation. It’s all painfully real.

2.You probably laughed reading this, and I laughed writing it, but while it was happening to me, nothing could have been less funny. I have never been more utterly and genuinely terrified than I was in that barn. I wholeheartedly believed I was going to die.

3.God redeemed my pain. He turned my wailing into dancing and made beauty from the ashes, but I will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever go to a haunted barn/house/corn maze again. Ever. Not even for a cute boy.

#haunted #halloween #humor #hauntedhouse