Prior to this weekend, I was somewhat proud to boast that I had thus far managed to escape the Halloween tradition of a haunted hayride - or something of that genre. I can make that claim no longer.
Those who know me well are undoubtedly sitting in front of their computer screens with their jaws hanging in their laps;my reputation as the original Halloween Chicken is well established. I'm certain some of you remember that gothic, black and white daytime serial of the 1960's, "Dark Shadows". Every afternoon, after my mother's "stories" concluded, we turned the television to ABC and for 30 minutes thrilled to the sympathetic vampire Barnabus Collins and his love for the beautiful and unattainable Angelique.......or was it Josette? I can't recall, but there's a very good reason for that. As my sisters and brother sat side by side on the living room sofa, I stood in the hallway, half-hidden behind the door casing, ready to retreat at the drop of a fang. And fangs WERE dropped, my friends - with alarming frequency. Claws, too. And my fear of all things creepy-crawly going bump in the night was born. And thrived - well into my adulthood. Until this weekend.
This weekend, with the assistance of a very capable co-conspirator, two of three sisters and a brother traveled to Millbury, Massachusetts to surprise family we hadn't seen in close to a decade. That we chose Halloween was not by accident. The cousins (and aunt) we wanted to surprise run an annual haunted hayride to benefit youth via their Youth Camp - an organization they've run for many, many years. The creative force behind this amazing event is my cousin, Paul - a man who works 2 full time jobs, and still manages to galvanize and coordinate a volunteer army of ghouls, witches, ghosts, goblins, chainsaw-wielding maniacs, electricians, carpenters, make-up/costume people and......oh yes, a variety of vendors to provide everything from diesel fuel to run the tractors (that pull the hay wagons), to food for volunteers and snacks and beverages to sell at the concession stand. His mom - my aunt - works tirelessly doing everything from parking cars to loading the terrified onto the hay wagons and sending them into the woods. Her sister runs the concession stand - this year with the volunteer assistance of the aforementioned Halloween Chicken.
And so, amid sales of hot chocolate, chili dogs, hot apple cider and donuts, the evening passed. At regular intervals, a very adept zombie shuffled aimlessly through the hall, his vacant eyes coming to rest on victims with unswerving precision. He dropped down next to quivering teenagers for long moments before rising haltingly to his feet and making his lurching way back out into the crowd waiting to board the hay wagons. We could always tell when he was working the crowd outside as the hall would suddenly fill with people casting nervous glances at the door as they paid for their soda and candy bars. Sure enough, it wouldn't take long for him to appear - and the hallway to empty once again. Finally, we were down to the last ride and, just when I was congratulating myself on a terrifying journey successfully avoided, Carl (Paul's older brother) and my own brother appeared and I was being unceremoniously "escorted" to the boarding area - and "assisted" to the hay wagon. There, wedged between my sister and my brother - and shivering in the wind and the cold (with the sightless zombie sitting directly behind me), I finally experienced the haunting experience I'd always missed....and then some. You see, when you're not bright enough to hide your nerves, your cousins will make the most of it. Every homicidal maniac brandishing a chainsaw found the spot in front of my little railing and hacked away, shreiking merrily. A graceful white sheet with a grisly skeletal skull and hands found the side of my head as it swooped down on the end of its wire from its unseen position high in a tree. The very talented zombie thrust his bald head bare inches from my face, baring his black encrusted teeth in a hideous simile of a smile, eyes wide - grunts and odd vocalizations emanating from his throat. You get the picture. There was much screaming - and laughter - as the ride sped to a stop where it had begun some fifteen minutes before (it FELT more like 30!). We all carefully climbed down from the haywagon and made our chilly way back into the hall. No zombies followed us. No wafting ghosts slipped inside to continue the scare. Just a crowd of tired volunteers crowding the refreshment table for much needed - and well deserved - hot chocolate. Virtually everyone on the current crew asked for "the form" to sign up for Spooky Hollow 2011; many first-time attendees added their names and talents to the list, as well...including one formerly frightened middle-aged woman who will join her Massachusetts family next year to DO some of the frightening. Of course, I hadn't considered the fact that despite whatever costume I will wear, no matter how scary I might look, there's one undeniable reality.
I will still be in those woods, in total darkness ............on Halloween. Wonder if that carpenter would build me a door casing I could duck behind............you know - just in case?!
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