Page 84 of Feels Like Home

“Whatever you say, honey.” She pats me on the shoulder as I gently push her in front ofme.

“So, I guess all Andys are scared of hauntedhouses?”

“What?”

“You know… that producer Andy. Watch the videos on YouTube sometime of him going through haunted houses. You’ll pee yourselflaughing.”

“I don’t pee myselflaughing.”

“Just when you get scared,huh?”

“Yeah. Wait. No! I don’t pee myself! Can we just move forward? Who knows how far the boys are into this thing, and they’re probably huddled up with some zombie right now, plotting something againstme.”

“Paranoidmuch?”

“No. I know my boys. They’re not littleangels.”

“Wonder where they get itfrom?”

“Are you guys going to go through this thing or what?” I turn around and see a group of annoyed teenagers standing behindme.

“Whatever.” I struggle to resist the urge to flip off the teenagers, not my proudest moment, and grab hold of the back of Christine’s shirt as we moveahead.

I hear a noise to my left and jump almost a foot in the air, gasping and screaming but keepwalking.

Everyone knows you don’t stop moving through a hauntedhouse.

That’s when they getyou.

When they smell yourfear.

We make it about four steps when I feel something grab my ankles. “It’s got me! Christine! It’s got me!” My feet do a dance that would rival an Irishdancer’s.

I dance my way out of Christine’s arms and my back hits the chest of… something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s awfully handsy and the noises it’s emitting are far from comforting. I bolt out of its grasp and run ahead to Christine a few feet. She’s watching me with amusement on her face, but lets her guard down just enough for one of the horrific zombies to attack her, coming out from behind acurtain.

My eyes widen, and I grab her hand and take off. “Run! It’s coming! Lord have mercy on us!” I’m screaming and yelling, fearful of this staged character getting to mygirl.

We keep moving forward and every few steps, something either jumps out at us or grabs us frombelow.

“No!” I yell at one, pointing my finger at it as it tries walking toward me, blood and disgusting goo dripping from its face, but it doesn’t stop grasping forus.

“No means no, dammit! Didn’t you learn that when you were akid?”

As I’m berating the haunted house employee for having bad manners, a small girl dressed to look like a ghost of some sort, emerges from behind a curtain. The small thing opens its mouth and starts turning itshead.

All.

The.

Way.

Around.

“What the hell is that?” Christine yells, a tremor in her voice that does nothing for my own state of fear. That’s a lie. It definitely heightens myfear.

“I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m not scared. I’m notscared.”

“I’m frickin’ scared! I’ll admit it!” Christine shouts then screams as something comes at her with what I hope is a fake knife, then plunges at her feet and crawls towardher.

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