I’m not a huge Halloween fan. The pressure of a costume, nasty, nasty candy corn, the color orange….eh, I can take it or leave it.
I DO miss dressing up Samantha in some crazy adorable outfit; maybe that’s the crux of it….darn you Halloween and your cute bunny rabbit costumes.
Every year my friend Jill takes an entourage of ladies on a haunted house tour. I went two years ago but last year decided to pass. I had seen enough of death and I felt a bit like a zombie, thank you very much.
This year I said that I would go.
And I questioned my decision.
I had a conversation with myself in the mirror as I geared myself up for an evening of creepy crawlies and half-dead actors.
“Isn’t your life traumatic enough? Why are you going on a haunted house tour?”
So I thought about it…..
And I started to laugh…..
“I am going on a haunted house tour because Zombies ain’t got nothing on me.”
What do we fear in a haunted house? We fear the unknown, the unexpected…
Unexpected?? Sign me up.
We fear being afraid.
We fear the dark.
I realized I had dealt with these fears for the last five years and as a result Frankenstein is a pussy cat.
So I went with my friends and screamed when the creepy man chased us around with the chainsaw. I ran around like a crazy chicken when the mad doctor followed us through swampy, abandon hospital ward. At the end I found myself laughing hysterically.
It was kind of fun to be scared and not have it mean anything at all.
Go ahead….give me your worst crazy witch lady. I double, dog dare you.
At the start of every tour, the guide would say, “Don’t touch the monsters and they won’t touch you.”
Can’t touch this? Ha! Bring on the monsters.
In the end, real life on a bad night is much more unexpected, can be terrifyingly real and sometimes, yes….the monsters can touch you.
Haunted House? It’s a piece of candy corn.
Candy Corn? Now that’s frightening