Halloween Story Time: Why I Hate Haunted Attractions
With it finally being Halloween, I thought it might be fun to share a “funny” story that pretty much explains why I hate going through haunted attractions. It involves a trail, a chainsaw, and a pair of flip-flops. I’m cringing just thinking about this.
So, I was about 12 years old when I had one of the worst nights of my young life. My family and I went to a fall/Halloween festival in Knightstown, Indiana. They had a bunch of different fall foods and different fall attractions. Safe to say it was a fun day…until the sun when down. Because that is when they hosted a haunted walk.
Now, to be as honest I as can, I was really looking forward to going on this haunted walk. I was feeling pretty confident that it wasn’t going to be that scary. I mean I had just gotten into middle school and I had those pre-teen hormones coursing through my body. Not to mention that my cousins from Australia were visiting and I didn’t want them to think I was some wimp.
The walk starts off fine enough. You had a couple of creepy characters popping out behind trees and it fun. Then we get further into the woods and it starts getting a little creepier. There were a few bigger scares and at certain points on the trail, it was hard to see where you were going. Until we reached the cabin.
Here is where the wheels start to fall off. I would consider the cabin as the halfway point of this haunted walk. As we walk up to it three guys on horses stop us. They start talking about how were trespassing and how they were going to keep us as slaves. You know, the usual things you hear at creepy cabins. Well, this was topped off by some dude in a Leatherface mask popping up behind us and revving a chainsaw. This is when I tapped out.
I was so freaked out that I bolted out of there. You remember that I said there were flip-flops involved in this story? Yeah, here where those come in to play. Why I thought it was a good idea to wear flip-flops at the beginning of October is beyond me. Anyway, as I took off running from the cabin, I didn’t notice the stump that was directly in front of me. You guessed it. I smoked my right foot on that stupid thing. Not only did I jam my big toe but I also got a nice gash right on the front of it.
So, here I am scared out of my mind, with a busted toe, standing all alone in the middle of the woods. Safe to say that I was ready to be done with this haunted walk. My cousins and brother finally caught up with me and we, slowly but surely, finished the stupid thing. I remember my parents asking how it went and all I could say was that it sucked as I showed them what I had done to my foot. They may or may not have laughed at me because I’m pretty sure they told me no to wear flip-flops that day. Whoops.
Since then I have yet to go on a haunted walk of any kind. I have gone on one or two hayrides but I didn’t enjoy it. For some reason that one night ruined it for me. I don’t know if it was the fact that I just got really freaked out or what. Maybe busting my toe didn’t help either. Regardless of the exact reason, when Halloween rolls around you won’t ever see me wanting to be scared on purpose ever again.