Halloween Haunts: The Last Haunted House I Remember by Kristina Stancil
Growing up in the Bible Belt I felt like an outcast. I didn’t care about Miss Piggy and her jewels that she always raved about. I was down with the Count. I didn’t have the typical upbringing. I was told Santa Claus didn’t exist at a young age but witches, ghosts, magic, etc. were spoken of as real. There was nothing to be afraid of because a good ghost followed the family and kept us safe.
Whether it was the psychological makeup of my mom or the fact it was ingrained into me not to be outgoing but even though …
This last Halloween was the first for my family in our new house. While my wife and I anxiously waited for children to show up at our door in search of treats, not a single one appeared. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, as we live atop a steep hill without any sidewalks. We’re also close to a community that provides far easier means of obtaining candy. As such, we aren’t expecting any kids this year, either. That’s a gloomy premonition, as we both find ourselves missing the costumed children, the excitement of the holiday, and the joy it …
Halloween is my Christmas, as my wife explains it to her friends. Every October I open up the garage, drudge out the life-sized witch, Headless Horseman, and Grim Reaper; ransack my man cave in the basement for skulls, bats, and animated creepy crawlies (which reside there year round); and carve exactly three pumpkins. My son gets in on the fun, and although it takes a half a day to set up my trademark graveyard, complete with lighting and eerie music effects, it is a labor of love.
Early on in my life I didn’t really get to participate in Halloween. I grew up with a schizophrenic father who had taken me from home at 10 months old. We spent much of my childhood on the run from authorities, usually broke or close to it. The only time I ever went trick or treating while I was with my dad was somewhere around age 9 or 10—he wrapped me up in toilet paper and sent me out as the mummy.
Halloween is the best time of the year for enjoying the scarier parts of life. People who normally are prudish and uptight about horror will discard their preconceived notions for one night and just allow themselves to enjoy life. It is the one night of the year where everyone is allowed to throw on a costume and pretend to be someone else…
