A bizarre haunted drive-thru, a ghastly parking garage, and a mysterious salesman. What terrors await?
Greetings, boils and ghouls. It’s your pal, the Blog Keeper, writing from my derelict crypt (is there any other kind)? Enjoy the first of three stories to kick off October, each somewhat based on a true story. Read on, if you dare!
The Not-So-Terrifying Haunted Drive-Thru
I wanted to experience one of those haunted drive-thru events that would blow my socks off.
I envisioned something down a dark country road, with looming trees, eerie mist, shadowy figures, and creepy music over the car stereo. My wife and I were excited, oblivious to our impending doom.
We found what looked like a reputable attraction. The ticket prices implied enough. It was sold as a Haunted Scare Zone with multiple terrifying roads. A brief online video ad presented an immersive, thrilling excursion into the depths of the netherworld.
Our night of “terror” commenced under a full moon. An ominous chill permeated the air. Momentarily safe inside my pickup truck, we coasted through the old plaza parking lot, hoping for a ghoulish time.
Would we survive the approaching onslaught of terror? I wasn’t sure. We drove around aimlessly in search of this sinister spectacle. I asked my wife to keep a lookout.
“I see some fences over there,” she said.
From the far corner of the parking lot, we spotted a maze of chain link fencing that resembled the remnants of a construction site. Perhaps we were early.
We came upon a line of idling vehicles gathered at the haunted drive entrance with their headlights beaming. Overhead parking lot lights illuminated the ominous terror before us. We waited as an attendant with hastily applied ghost makeup checked us in. They provided a link to stream ambient music for each “scare zone.”
“Doesn’t look like much now,” I began, “but let’s wait and see what happens.”
We slowly moved through the entrance, passing rusty barrels with pallets leaned upright against them. Warning signs, plastic skeletons, and other generic decorations hung from the fences. Random scare actors in dollar store masks emerged from the mist, awkwardly walking past vehicles.
We faced tight turns and near halts every twenty yards. The streaming music was off-queue and improperly timed to each scare zone. We experienced all the thrills of sitting in rush-hour traffic.
Venturing past each underwhelming spectacle, I soon realized this cheap Halloween chicanery was no accident. We had been ripped off—like that fake Willy Wonka factory experience in Scotland but worse.
As a result, I floored the gas, lost control, and crashed into a nearby light post. My truck exploded into a fiery ball. We spent our last disappointed moments consumed by searing flames.
The frights continue in our second ghoulish tale, where a simple event turns into a disastrous nightmare.
Tune in next week for, The Parking Garage!
Shawn McKee 
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