Chainsaws and Strobe Lights: A Haunted House in the Mountains

My mom's dad lived in the mountains in Southern California before he died. He had this enormous three-story cabin filled with taxidermy, Native American memorabilia, and animal skins hanging around every corner and lying before each doorstep. Perfectly normal for a psychiatrist. My siblings and I would visit his cabin with my mom every couple months or so and hang out at the local pond complete with a water slide, and would try not to get stung by wasps that seemed to be everywhere at all times. But on one visit during October, my dad - who tagged along to help my mom look after all four of us - took us to this local haunted house attraction. I insisted, and I wish I hadn't.

This haunted house maze was in the middle of this dirt patch with tall trees surrounding the area. Fog machines were set up around the portable trailer-turned-haunted maze to add to the already eery location, and the local teenagers working there were dressed up as zombies, growling and dripping fake blood from their mouths. Ten-year-old me was intrigued, but admittedly frightened. I gripped onto my dad's jacket as he led me, my sister, and two brothers inside the maze.

Flashing lights - including purple-UV lights - danced around us causing confusion as to where we were walking. Splashes of neon paint were splattered all over the walls and glowed furiously under the purple lights above, and loud, aggravating music was blasting so loud I couldn't hear myself talk. Suddenly a man jumped out from the corner donning a werewolf mask, and we all jumped back - scared but amused. My younger brother and sister clung to my dad for dear life as my older brother soaked it all in, laughing at how scared his younger siblings were.

As we zigzagged through the space, the music continuing to blast and the lights dancing all around us, we entered a room that nearly sent me into a panic. Strobe lights were flashing at light speed as some dude in the corner with a hockey mask stood up and revved up his chainsaw. Now, if you're familiar with good ol' strobe lights, you know that movements become blocky and non-continuous due to the light going off every half second or so - making subtle movements invisible in that blink of darkness in between each flash. This caused the hockey-chainsaw man to look like he was coming faster and faster even though he was likely walking at a normal pace, and the chainsaw seemed to dance in the air dangerously close to our faces. I began screaming, and begged my dad to get us out of here.

We found an emergency exit and I ran out of there as fast as my little legs could take me. The effect of the strobe lights, plus hockey-man, plus chainsaw, equaled near death in my eyes. As my dad tried to find a way out of the maze, he approached a zombie girl who directed us to the nearest exit. My dad said something like, "I told you it was going to be too scary for you guys." He was right...much to my dismay, but my older brother loved it. We trekked back to the car and drove to my grandpa's cabin ready to tell our mom all about our near-chainsaw-death experience.

Since this maze, I think I've lost some sort of jump-scare reaction at similar mazes, like at Knott's Scary Farm, for example. In my mind, if I survived the chainsaw man, I could survive some mutant bunny following me throughout the toy maker's maze. It built some sort of odd confidence in me, but it's still an experience that sends me back into fight-or-flight mode.

What's the scariest maze, haunted house, etc. that you've visited? I'd love to know, maybe one day I'll pluck up the courage to visit.

Happy Halloween! Be safe out there, you hooligans.