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Halloween Haunts: Working in a Haunted House by F. D. Gross

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For some it’s such a strange concept, working in a haunted house where the general populace relates to it as something truly horrific and exciting, something you go to during the haunting season of October to get entertained, where you go with friends and family, walking through narrow hallways and stooped corridors, experiencing strange music and sounds, and then, sprung upon by the freaks lingering in the darkness…that’s where the work comes into play (aside from other things). And I am proud to say I work at one of the best Haunted Houses in South Florida, Enigma Haunt.

Being a scare actor is a fun, exciting, excruciating fantastic time if you love creeping around in the dark and scaring the ever-loving piss out of random people (you might know SOME people, but that’s irrelevant). That’s right, I’m talking about good old fashion, in your face pop scares, screaming your balls off, and sweating through your fabrics…LOTS of sweating. But hey, fun like this doesn’t come for free. You have to offer something, whether it’s your blood or sweat, give or take a little of both. Working in a haunt is a unique time that can sometimes be hard to explain. It’s like a love hate relationship with yourself throughout the nights you work because in many instances you may be by yourself all night…or, sometimes you get to work with others. But it is those alone times that really allow you to not only become someone else, a creature perhaps or a dying corpse possibly or a shovel lord, but a time to reflect on who you are and what you’ve done throughout the year, good or bad, and then you release all of it! The haunt allows a sort of portal to open (I’m talking about barn doors ripped right off the hinges!) You hang out with your friends, some new, some old, and all the while you share an insane bond that grips your soul and doesn’t let go.

I’ve been at it now for five years and have no intention of stopping. In fact, I think it has developed another inner-self I always kind of knew was there but sort of ignored it for so long. Kind of like a repressed raisin forgotten at the bottom of that tiny little box left on the shelf, pushed back year after year, collecting dust and rat turds and an occasional spider web. Wrinkled, pruned, dried, and cracked. By no means am I speaking of depression, but rather, an attitude that was dying to be heard and seen. Working in a haunted house I think has released these entrapped echoes dying to be heard, quite literally.

So now, as Halloween rapidly approaches our inner hearts in the weeks to come, I get to meet new friends once again and cherish every new encounter. The lost souls worked with are not lost at all but see the broad picture as I do from that dingy bedpan! Crude, hilarious, and damn right witty.

What’s it like working in a haunted house? It’s kind of sort of goes like this.

 

“THE DOORS OPEN IN FIVE MINUTES. GET TO YOUR F**KING POSTS!”

An instant transformation takes over you and no longer are you YOU…but rather, and insane demonically possessed, passionate harbinger of fear. No longer does the outside world matter because one, all the natural lights in the house that keep you safe are no longer on. Darkness engulfs you, along with reds and blues and greens, and the familiar stench of rot hits your nostrils like a slug from a shotgun. And it’s not only you who has transformed. There are others around just like you, well maybe not just like you, but there is a sense of camaraderie, a sister and brotherhood that is unparalleled to any other imitations. Whooping and hollering. Suddenly you dash from the spot and enter a world of smoke and mirrors, vanishing behind secret doorways and climbing heart wrenching stairs that lead into dimensions beyond belief and reality. As victims come through the haunt, (I’m talking about guests) they simply fuel that fire burning within. Passion. Commitment. Insanity. You run back and forth between areas, listening for the screams. You want to go to them, to answer their call for more (that’s what screams are) but you can’t, because if you don’t stop for just a moment and breath, you might just pass out…But that’s ok…really…anything for that adrenaline rush!

 

TODAY’S GIVEAWAY: F. D. Gross is giving away a paperback copy of Wolfgang, the first book in the Wolfgang Trilogy!

 

Comment below or email membership@horror.org with the subject title HH Contest Entry for a chance to win.

 

J. D. Gross is the creator and writer of The Wolfgang Trilogy series. A new legend in vampire hunting emerges with his works of literature. He writes many different types of fiction and experiences the world for inspiration. Traveling is a passion and resting in haunted places is another. Working in a haunted house happens to be one of his joys in life.

 

Aside from full-length novels, he has published various short stories ranging from dark twisted tales to open ended mysteries. He resides in South Florida with his wife, two children, and four cats.

 

Wolfgang Book 1:

Sixteen years have passed since the death of Lord Egleaseon, the vampire lord who sought to be human again, defeated by the famous noble lord, Wolfgang. One day after cleansing the surrounding countryside of vampires, Wolfgang returns from his latest expedition only to be faced with the horrible reality that everything he held dear to his heart has been taken from him. His wife is dead, his home is burned, and his son is nowhere to be found. Only the smallest inclination leads him to believe his orphaned servant is somehow responsible.  He is desperate and provoked, and will do anything to get his son back, even if it means journeying the path of darkness. Thus begins the story of Wolfgang.

 

Website:

https://www.wolfgangchronicles.com/

Good Reads:

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15919155.F_D_Gross

Twitter:

https://twitter.com/GrellDragon

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/Wolfgang.Chronicles/

Youtube:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCf-ODvSjFpN-21nxe8kVnRw

Amazon:

https://www.amazon.com/Wolfgang-Trilogy-Book-1-ebook/dp/B07JP1L77H/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=fd+gross+wolfgang&qid=1631820228&s=books&sr=1-1

Amazon Author Page:

https://www.amazon.com/F.D.-Gross/e/B01LXM86GO/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Instagram:

https://www.instagram.com/fd_gross/

 

 

Prologue taken from the novel, Wolfgang

Written by F. D. Gross

 

EGLEASEON

 

A loud, thunderous echo pulls me from my thoughts. The huge wooden door vibrates the sconces on the walls in its closing, knocking candles to the floor.

I speak in an ominous tone. “My guest of honor. You have finally come. I take it you met the inhabitants of my castle. I’m sure it was a warm welcome.” Sitting on my throne, I stare at the spectacle before me at the bottom of the stairs. A man covered in blood. Someone who has been through battle. There is no doubt the guardians of my castle are dead.

I cannot see his face. A long black cloak drapes over his head and broad shoulders, covering the expensive clothing beneath. A black and red tunic trimmed with gold studs. A mirrored black belt lined with blood soaked stakes. The shirt, from the hips down, drapes over black leather pants. They tuck into a set of tall buckled boots. Despite the dark color, its sheen reflects in the growing dawn. But it’s not the color that makes my guest eccentric, it’s the massive white cross on his chest that contrasts with everything.

Clenched in his left hand is a strange-looking contraption. A weapon with four straight blades extending from the center handle. The Bawaka blade. Its metal serrated edges drip with red liquid. I have seen it before during our laborious quarrels.

My guest remains near the door transfixed in silence, neither moving forward nor looking around. He is staring straight at me. Staring at the smile on my face.

I clap my hands as I slowly rise from my throne. I want to commemorate him for being the first person to make it through my abode, unscathed and intact. I am no longer bored, so I laugh. “Welcome to my home, Tenor Alvadine Wolfgang.”

The man says nothing as he draws back his hood, revealing his luscious golden locks falling around his shoulders. Such a pretty color, his crystal blue eyes are. So menacing. So innocent. He is calm and collected, standing there across the room. He does not move.

There is undeniable tension in the room. But it is neither him nor I who breaks it. There is a sudden breeze and the flapping of curtains.

A terrible cry bellows from the shadows of the chamber. The voice is fierce with the intensity of a gale wind.

“You!” comes the breath of a woman as she lashes out at Wolfgang like a torrent of endless serpents. A dark mass ascends through the air with ferocity, striking with black hands and trailing smoke. Gathering clouds of mist take the shape of a human with claws. Long twisted nails large enough to skewer a horse.

As I watch, there is no delay from Wolfgang. He moves with superb skill between shadow and light. For every blow the woman attacks with, he evades with precision. It lasts only a moment before she moves faster, avoiding the approaching dawn’s light.

Like time standing still, the woman attacks faster than the human eye, but Wolfgang holds his own. She strikes at his abdomen and he buckles forward. She swipes at his head and he ducks. Every attack he parries or dodges. His evasions match the woman, both in skill and speed.

She stops in midair suddenly. “Wolfgang! You dare come to my home after what you’ve done? Such nerves you possess! Such dishonor! You shall pay for your crime, human!”

Wolfgang unfastens his cloak and tosses it into the air behind him. His hand goes to one of the stakes on his belt, drawing it with great speed. With both hands he forms his two weapons into a cross.

“Stop this madness, Katrina!” says Wolfgang, strong and resolute. “I come in peace. There is an agreement between your father and me.” He glances over suddenly, as if expecting me to take action. But he has no idea. I am thoroughly entertained.

Instead, I drink from my goblet. I never stop grinning as the cold red liquid touches my lips. My fangs grow long and my face turns dark.

“Bastard,” Wolfgang says in a curt manner.

Katrina rushes forward, engulfing Wolfgang with her dark mist, slashing at him with demonic fury. Her hands dance, slicing flesh and spilling blood. I hear pain escaping his lips, but somehow, he manages to remain standing. What heart! What resilience!

Wolfgang retaliates with his blade, cutting at the mist. Every slice separates the smoke and Katrina laughs. She strikes at him over and over, driving Wolfgang into submission. Soon, he is not moving at all. He is staring at something amidst the chaos. Katrina’s speed increases, circling around him like a cyclone, a death whirlwind. She continues to spin around and around until she is merely a blur. Wolfgang doesn’t move an inch. What is he doing? Then I realize. He is waiting.

Wolfgang thrusts his wooden stake forward, impaling Katrina. No warning. No anticipation.

A loud cry escapes her lips. Her movement is held fast. The long stake is protruding from her heart. I see terror in Katrina’s eyes. Her pride. Her glory. All of it is gone now. I hope you learned your lesson, my dearest Katrina.

With a quick motion, Wolfgang severs her head. It falls to the floor and rolls the length of the stairs, one bloody step at a time. Her body collapses into a heap of lifeless flesh.

Wolfgang is breathing heavily. He looks up at me, yet I remain sitting on my throne. Poor soul. He is confused.

I raise my hand in earnest. “Before you accuse me of breaking my honor, know it well that I would never do such a thing. I have existed too long for such trivial nonsense. My daughter acted of her own will. Her fate was her choosing and she chose noncompliance.”

Wolfgang looks around the room. “Noncompliance?”

“Yes, my guest. Noncompliance. You should learn it well. When the need to kill becomes too great, the will becomes compromised. The bloodlust renders the conscious beast useless. Even I, her maker, could not subdue the urges she had for you. Her anger, built over time over you killing her brother, transgressed well beyond reason. It was only a matter of time before she snapped. The curse always wins in the end. My deepest apologies.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” says Wolfgang, holding his weapons close.

“Clearly.”

With the light of the sun filling the chamber, my power is waning. It gleams off my skin, as if any moment my skin would catch fire and evaporate. Wolfgang watches me intently.

“I see the rumors are true. You can walk in the daylight.”

“With pride,” I grunt, as if he needed proof. “There is no other who can.” My eyes begin to flutter. The sun is draining me considerably. I need more blood if I’m going to continue this conversation.

“I believe a congratulations is in order,” I say, tapping the arm of my chair with dried fingernails.

Wolfgang eyes me suspiciously. “What, for killing your daughter?”

I can’t help but laugh. “Hardly not. Come.” I motion with my hand and stand up. “A toast.” I make my way to the table where I have poured countless goblets of blood. There is a wine bottle set out for Wolfgang too. I am always prepared for the occasion.

Wolfgang smirks. “A toast to your demise.”

“To life!” I say, raising my goblet. “Always so cunning.” I drink it all down and slam my goblet on the table. “I hear you and the lovely Diana recently gave birth to a son. A joyous occasion no doubt.”

“What do you know of joy, monster? You only know of death and decay. My family is not your concern.”

“No,” I say with an air of being distraught. “I was hoping to visit you one day once all of this is behind us.”

Wolfgang slowly takes a few steps toward me. “Understand this, Egleaseon. No matter what God has in store for you, you will never set foot near my family. As soon as this is over, you are leaving the realm and never coming back.”

I smile. “Well then, seems the formalities are over with.” I gesture with my hand. “Shall we proceed?”

Wolfgang nods.

“Good. To the matter at hand then. The relic, if you would.” Bracing the wooden surface with my arms, I lean forward, holding back my excitement. I have waited for this for so long, and now, here is the man who hated me the most, delivering me the very thing I wanted most.

Wolfgang takes a few steps forward and stops; his crystal blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. “For two thousand years you’ve reigned supreme lord over your kind. For centuries you oppressed the people of Roland, brought death and suffering into their hearts. We have fought hand to hand, tooth and nail. And lost the ones we loved. I gladly give you this relic.”

Wolfgang reaches behind his back and produces an object wrapped in brown cloth. As he removes the fabric, my blood begins to pump feverishly. It is the size of two closed fists side by side. With two metal bars bound together by sharp barbed wire, shafts of light glint from its metallic surface. Its presence is unnerving. I want to run from it, as far and fast as I can. But I subdue the urges. This is not what I expected.

Wolfgang holds it before him like fragile glass. “The Hand of God.”

My eyes are locked on the relic. “What do you know of suffering?” I snap, looking into his eyes suddenly. “I am the only one who knows true suffering and it will come to an end. I cast immortality to the dogs of hell. They can have it, for I seek new life. To be human again. I shed my everlasting curse!”

Extending my hand, I beckon the Hand of God to me. It flies into my pale hand, unchallenged. Its surface is vibrant and warm to the touch. Its energy seeps through my skin and spreads through my body, bathing me in white light. The sensation is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. It is terrifying and wonderful all the same. I grab it with my other hand and pull it close to my chest. Yes. Life. I accept you. It pours into my veins, which accept agony, accept the woes of man, accept pain, accept emotion. Accepting all these things. It is all there. Existence. The breath in my lungs is hot. The air is salty. It is all around me.

Looking at my hands, I see they are no longer pale blue but rosy pink. Rushing with living blood. The veins throbbing underneath my skin bulge with certainty. My hair is thick and my skin is moist. I am suddenly very aware of my surroundings in a way I was destined to forget over two thousand years. Yes. I am alive. I am rejuvenated. And I am mortal.

Looking up, Wolfgang is staring at me. Surprise and disbelief riddle his face. He carries the visage of absolute denial. I am changed and I am immediately aware of the absent powers I once commanded. I attempt to call the fire, the shadow, but it doesn’t come. I take a deep breath and exhale. It does not matter. I am free of my earth-bound prison and now death is a force to reckon with.

And so it happens.

Before I take my first step, before I speak my first word, my body is struck with a heavy weight. I was certain I’d have more time, but it comes without warning. An unbearable crushing force, pushing the air from my lungs and compressing my head in agonizing pain. I do not recall ever feeling pain like this before. I try to move, but it’s useless. I see Wolfgang slowly stepping away from me, hand on his weapon. A cautious look betrays his face. He is terrified of me.

Then the memories begin consuming me. One by one.

All the murders I’ve committed. All the sacrifices I’ve gone through with. They rip at my skin and crush my bones. The centuries catch up to me. Screams of children wail in my ear. God’s punishment, yet I do not bend.

My body dwindles away to nothing. Raising my arms, I watch the flakes of my skin peel away and the muscles uncoil from my bones. Soon I am merely a skeletal frame with the consciousness of a man. In the next few moments I will become dust. This is not the end. I look upon Wolfgang one last time and smile.

 

One comment on “Halloween Haunts: Working in a Haunted House by F. D. Gross

  1. I remember when Phil created “The House of Shock”. You could see their joy and the professionalism that went into creating the artwork and terrorizing the crowds. I always thought, “Now there’s a book there!”

    Your article brings back those terrifying and nostalgic times. Thanks for this great article.

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