Sally Breslin: My Life: 'TIS THE SEASON OF HAUNTED HOUSES!

One of my favorite things at amusement parks is any ride that involves something haunted – a haunted house, cave, mine, castle, mansion, funhouse, etc. – it doesn’t matter which, as long as it has a good “scare” quality.

My late husband, however, was not the type of person who made an ideal partner on such rides.

I remember our date at Salisbury Beach one night, where we went on a “haunted” ride called Witch's Castle, or something like that. We sat in a car that moved along a winding track through pitch-darkness. Now and then, a cutout figure of a ghost or monster would pop up and slide out toward us, or lights would flash. But the fake spider-webs (long threads hanging down that brushed against our faces as we passed through them) scared me more than anything else.

I screamed, frantically brushing at them, thinking they were real webs built by a colony of giant spiders that had made their way into the dark, dank old building and were breeding by the thousands in there.

A few seconds later, I felt something like fingers walking up the back of neck and then grasping me from behind. Again, I screamed.

By the time we got out of there, I was a wreck.

“That was really scary!” I gasped to the couple we’d gone with, my friend Judy and her husband, who’d been in the car ahead of ours on the ride.

“Yeah, those spider-web things in my face made me jump!” Judy said.

“And what about the hand on the back of your neck?" I added. "How did they do that anyway? Have someone run up behind us on the track?”

Judy and her husband just stared blankly at me.

“What hand on your neck are you talking about?” she asked. "I didn't feel anything like that."

That’s when my husband started laughing. “That was my hand you felt," he said. "I thought I’d add a little more excitement to the ride."

Even worse was when we went through the haunted mansion at Funtown USA in Maine. Back then, employees in scary costumes would hide in dark corners or behind doors and jump out at unsuspecting visitors, which induced a lot of screaming.

As my husband and I were walking through the eerie place, he happened to catch a glimpse of one of the costumed characters up ahead, moving into position behind a panel so he could scare us.

My husband spotted an open space near him and whispered to me, “You move on ahead and I’ll meet up with you in a second.”

Before I could ask him why, he disappeared.

I didn’t want to walk around the next corner alone, but I figured I didn’t want to stand in one spot either, so I rushed forward. Just as I was about to reach the spot where the creepy-looking employee was going to jump out in front of me, my husband crept up next to him and shouted, “BOO!”

The poor guy nearly needed CPR.

HAUNTED MANSION

My husband dissolved into laughter while I wished I could have dissolved into thin air, I was so embarrassed. Luckily, the employee had a good sense of humor, or I might have been bailing my husband out of the local jail.

But the best haunted house we ever went through was the one held every Halloween in Bow, New Hampshire. In fact, we were so impressed after our first visit, we vowed it would become one of our annual Halloween rituals. Not only was it worth every penny of the admission fee, the proceeds also went to the Bow Rescue Squad, which was a worthy cause.

Someone’s large basement in a house located on a quiet road in Bow was transformed into a true haunted house, guaranteed to scare the stuffing out of anyone who dared to enter. They even posted a sign warning visitors who had heart problems to enter at their own risk.

I thought the sign was a joke, a publicity stunt…but believe me, it wasn’t.

The line of people usually extended six abreast the length of the long driveway, but there never was any boredom while waiting to get inside. Costumed characters would creep up behind unsuspecting guests waiting in line and scare them. There also was entertainment, such as a platform set up outside where a screaming guy repeatedly would be led to the guillotine and get his head chopped off. The head then would land with a thud in a basket below. It was a great special effect.

Each year, the house had a different theme, from “Mad Doctor” to “Zombie Butcher.”

As my husband and I walked through each room, I clung to him as if I were made of Saran Wrap. I still can picture the butcher’s room where only half a woman was lying on a table covered with bloody entrails, as the butcher used a hatchet and a saw on her and she screamed in terror. Blood splattered everywhere as he worked.

In another room, the walls were covered with a psychedelic wallpaper and contained some scary-looking dolls. Everyone was so busy staring at the creepy dolls, expecting one of them to jump up and attack, we never noticed when the wallpaper began to come to life! Characters dressed and painted in the exact pattern of the wallpaper, so they were completely camouflaged, suddenly leapt out at us. I can honestly say I came very close to needing a change of underwear at that point. Even my husband, the jokester, jumped a few inches

It was fun to watch the people as they exited the basement. Some were laughing, others were shaking and in tears, and a few women even looked as if they might actually need to be revived by the members of the rescue squad.

Yep, it was a great place.

When an announcement was made that the haunted house was going to be discontinued, my husband and I were heartbroken. Just like that, our annual Halloween tradition was gone, cruelly snatched away from us. We felt as if we’d lost a good friend.

Right about that same time, a place called Spooky World debuted. It was advertised as the best haunted adventure anywhere, with makeup, sets and costumes designed by Hollywood professionals.

My husband and I were excited and our expectations were high as we drove nearly two hours to Worcester, Mass., where Spooky World first was located. We even were hoping the crew of such movies as “The Exorcist” might have worked on the project.

After the long drive to Spooky World, we then had to wait in line for over three hours to get in, on one of the coldest October nights in years. I had no feeling in my fingers or face for two days afterwards.

Was it worth it? All I can say is sorry, “Hollywood professionals,” you didn’t even come close to Bow, New Hampshire’s haunted house.

Every Halloween, I still reminisce about our annual excursion to Bow, and remember how my heart would pound like crazy every time I walked through that haunted house. I sure do miss those days.

If the house were to make a comeback now and I went to visit it again, I honestly would expect my husband’s ghost to pop out at me from that psychedelic wallpaper.

After all, the place just wouldn’t be the same if I went in there without him (and I think he'd really be in his glory, scaring people).

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Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net

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