Haunted

Dr. Madcap’s Midnight Midway.

Toxic Terror.

What were these crazy things? In ways, they were a release of decades of pent up creativity and expression. An opportunity to exercise my absolute most creative and unhinged imagination and power. Recruit, train and deploy a vast cast of college students. Frightening people.

A collaboration of a good many students and friends, the Haunt for Habitat was an emotional powerhouse. The concept was that we would host a haunted house as a fundraiser for Habitat for Humanity. The site was an abandoned factory, a truly derelict building someone had abandoned. I still don’t know the details, only that the city allowed us to go in and use the building for this good cause.

Abandoned Houses are Haunted!

It’s a close as I will ever get to becoming an architect. In ways I was like a movie director. I was most certainly the fright engineer. In no time prior or since have I been able to design and describe something into being quite like those years we built those haunted house. I would, for example, find a piece of drainage pipe and a three foot rusty funnel, a barrel and a blacklight, and before long, the Hillbillies would craft a toxic waste system that oozed and smoldered and glowed like radioactive waste. I would describe a spinning room that I read about on a haunt forum, and the next night, the room would be ready to test, complete with disorienting floor, walls and ceiling.

We had about one hundred volunteers engaged in the event—whether it was the construction crew, hospitality, or the scare cast—everyone was in it to win it. We even had a security crew from a regional karate dojo and friends from the police force help monitor our site. We bought out another fundraising haunt from Topeka and hauled it in and revamped it entirely to suit our site. Everything was over the top and crazy fun.

The haunt had several Chicken Outs, doors to exits for those who were too afraid to go the distance. They were heavily used.

The scare crew chalked up big wins whenever a patron wet themselves in fear. That was worth more than money to them.

Several of us who built the haunt were trepidatious in touring it. When in full raging terror mode, I could not walk it (and I built it!). I knew where the scares were. I knew the electrocution was done by a car battery charger. I knew the pneumatic props that popped up by name. I helped craft the seven foot tall grim reaper. What made the place scary, however, was the crew. They were unpredictable, even when staying in character. They were so awesome at their jobs, I don’t know how anyone ever made it through without a heart attack.

Now here’s the thing: I am not a patron of haunts. I don’t particularly like horror movies. I don’t truck with the occult. None of it is especially to my liking…

…but that event, where I was able to spend all winter learning what made haunts tick, then create one that rivalled the best in the nation…that inspired season where we all came together to do our best for a worthy cause…that legion of haunted helpers…the whole thing is a might big nugget in my bag of golden memories.

Here’s part of my fascination with abandoned places, decrepit and haunted places…when I was a kid, my parents used to go “antiquing.” This was their code word for trespassing and looting abandoned houses. They seemed to find one every weekend. They’d rummage around and retrieve some great relics, everything from photos to door knobs, discarded glassware to intriguing items they could not recognize. It all seemed so magical to me, for it was a time when my parents, then in their 20’s, were having the time of their lives. They were danger seekers, thrill seekers, and yes, antique seekers, too, I guess.

Somehow those years of antiquing left an indelible mark on my psyche. I never drive by such a place without wondering what’s inside. I never stop wishing those abandoned places could maybe be restored rather than torn down.