Night At The Scream Park

This year, I take Halloween night off. That’s it.

Mikey thought hard about a whole Halloween evening away from the usual malevolence to an unconventional night time horror experience; one not of his own doing for a change. He stroked his chin and dwelled on that thought.

So nice to feel scared rather than be scary for an evening.

The email arrived just a week ago: Come visit Fright World on Devil’s Road. 

Mikey’s first thoughts, this must be a joke as no one emails him. No friends and disconnected from the living, for sure. A quick Google map search showed the park attraction details, a twisted scream park packed with all the trappings of scare attraction terror.

Mikey loved the idea. He bought a ticket for one of the later guided tour Halloween sessions and printed off the ticket.

Arrival at the park lit up Mikey’s face. It was heart-warming. The acreage of sprawling gory attractions just plain made him feel at home. Many of the visitors entered attractions cowering while others emerged in screams. All quite the amusement for Mikey. 

A scare actor dressed as a clown tried to stun him with a wicked laugh, but the attempt to scare fell on cold eyes and a smug grin.

Mikey’s first “Haunt” attraction visit.

And he loved every second. He let out a wheezy laugh as an adrenaline fuelled, demonic, costume clad actor ran at a group of teenagers and sent them yelling along. He sniggered at the actors. These guys paid for inappropriate behaviour, yet controlled - unlike his world. 

The demon actor glanced at him as he regarded the actor with a curious eye. The actor’s poise suggested he patiently waited to blind-side someone.

“Stalk me if you wish, bring it on, but I...will show you a real haunt, fella,” Mikey muttered, and nodded at the actor in a rigid stance.

Another entertainer in a clown outfit leapt in front of Mikey, hoping to whip up a sudden scare. This second clown came with raised arms in an attempted spooky arms gesture but dropped the sides of a white baked mouth upon realising that this customer won’t scare easily. To that, the clown showed disappointment at Mikey’s stoic reaction, with hands raised high in wonder.  

“You just don’t scare me, my man.”

The actor’s head tilted side to side in a poise and threw arms high in the air again, fingers curled and back in the already failed spooky gesture. This suggested a pounce closer to Mikey was coming, but then the clown retreated into a darkened side path.

“Hey, leaving so soon.” Mikey strolled onward towards the tour meeting point. “Work on those scares.”

A guide in a latex devil mask led a group of visitors, some laughing, others in shock. The guide's crimson cloak flapped as the patrons were led towards the next part of their guided tour.

“Follow me, folks. Your next attraction awaits you. Anyone scared?”

A resounding NO from many and silence from others drew a chuckle from the guide.

Mikey paused and observed the crowd. “Any good? Enjoying yourselves?”

Someone yelled back. “Brilliant, mate.”

Another disagreed. “No way, too horrible.”

Mikey chuckled at that response. “It’s a scare attraction.”

One relieved couple, dressed up as vampires, broke from the group and brushed by Mikey. 

“Are you sure you’ve had enough? Only a couple more attractions.” The lad said to his girlfriend. 

The clown that failed to scare Mikey was back. He jogged up to the couple and sent them a hiss with hands that clasped the air like claws in their faces. Mikey judged the clown with a critical smirk at the actor; giggled at the actor’s attire, complete with an over-the-top smile that stretched the mouth corners up white-faced cheeks. The clown drew a yelp from the couple as they walked on with a trailing ‘Okay, hah, hah,’ from the boyfriend. His finger wagged at the clown along with a series of fricative Fs through his lips.

“Not having fun, boy,” Mikey yelled at the boyfriend, who returned a finger to him, to which Mikey sniggered.

Maybe I’ll have some fun later, after all.

As Mikey curled into a toilet cubicle, he checked out a set of ghoulish eyes, a hooked stare at his back. A figure, a different actor in a clown suit, had shuffled into the path of overhead lights from the obscurity of an unlit spot near the cubicle entrance. Still, not even a smirk on the garish red mouth. A pair of hob-nail boots tapped the concrete path one after the other, breaking the stillness of the clown’s stance, as painted eyes fixated on Mikey.

“Nice costume,” Mikey grinned, then bellowed, “BOO.”

The figure, still unshaken by Mikey, continued to stare; a boot continued to tap the ground.

Mikey waved at the clown, sniggered, and entered the cubicle to relieve himself. A few minutes later, he emerged from the smelly toilet cubicle and headed for the group meeting point. Strange, he thought, how the pungent ammonia stench of urine turned his stomach more than rotten flesh.

Those six bodies this year, dragged out of my cellar, smelled better than that bog, he thought. And they’ll never be found. 

He dwelled on his choice of burial places for a moment as his recent body disposal escapades warmed him. That spot found deep in the woods near his home raised a smile at the achievement, how he evaded the police, and at the joy of each kill.

“After all, this time, still no worries about being caught.” He muttered to himself as he smiled at his cocksure affirmation and quickened his pace towards the start point for the tour.

The two clown actors he met earlier followed Mikey to the queue. Mikey stared back at their close stalk. They froze. And stared. 

“I came for the attractions and not the clowns, guys.”

Mikey waved a dismissive hand and joined the queue. He held a genuine desire to find out if the scream park could scare him; if anything could scare a mind lost to darkness years ago. A ticket checker approached Mikey.

“Can I see your ticket?”

“Yes, of course, it’s printed up.”

“The email or that is fine.”

Mikey handed over a folded paper. 

“Thank you, Sir.”

“So, what can I expect ahead?” Mikey grinned with enthusiasm.

“Your Halloween evening ticket includes a guide through five attractions and entrance to our bar at the end of your tour, sir.”

Mikey appreciated the park, despite not being convinced anything able to throw itself at him would be scary. He felt exhilaration, not fear, as he thought about the horror ride ahead; not like the common frigid chill others feel, or dizziness, or weakness in the legs, not even a racing heartbeat.

No, not fear; intrigued, ready for a challenge, if such an outcome existed.

Mikey ambled on in the queue as it moved. A guide up front, almost shrouded in a satin robe, shouted, “Okay guys and ghouls, here we go, your Halloween night begins, stick close, keep your hands to your sides, and be aware...of your surroundings...”

The guide donned a ghostly white face, enough to cause a squeal when he swung around to address the group. Mikey just wanted to yell his thoughts: Get on with it! He found the guide’s cheesy lines nothing but an obstruction to what the ticket paid for. 

For a second, Mikey could have sworn the guide just stared right at him. 

He didn’t shout ‘Get On With It’ out loud.

The guide rambled. “There are things here to eat you, trap you, and especially the wicked. So, beware of your sins here.” Nope, he now definitely threw a stare in Mikey’s direction. The guide lowered a snowy white pointy chin and crooked thick eyebrows, croaky voice, eyes on him, “The dark ones will know your sins.”

Some others in the queue jostled and turned to look at Mikey, who, until now, enjoyed being quite nondescript. The guide’s eyes stared at him. He burst into a jolly frenzy, and threw his arms up, his robe spread out, and a smile beamed at everyone. “Welcome to Fright World, folks, enjoy yourselves.”

Mikey chuckled and scoffed. “Oh, come on.” Then imitating the guide’s voice. “The dark ones. Really?” Another chuckle drew tut-tuts from one guest in the queue.

The guide’s white washed face hung there for a few moments. A keen interest resumed in Mikey. Then the guide walked on, and the group followed.

A few beads of sweat lined Mikey’s forehead as he felt somehow - invaded. This guy disturbed him, and no-one disturbs him. He does the disturbing and quickened his pace to get closer to this guide.

What does he know? Why stare? Mikey thought as he skittered through the queue to get closer.

The dark-haired, pale-faced leader of the pack - stopped.

The group almost walked into each other as he froze. Mikey kept his eye on him.

The guide’s head swivelled slowly. One eye again seemed trained on Mikey. This time, he held his gaze; the bulbous eyes of this curious man felt like they scraped around his mind. The whitened face wrinkles showed a disturbed grin; cold eyes, almost grey, colder than Mikey’s.

The guide pointed ahead at a gloomy paint-flaked building with two gargoyles, the porch entrance guards.

“First folks, the haunted house.”

The first attraction entertained Mikey: a few unlit corridors, some actors skated around in Victorian attire, someone banged the walls and a speaker mocked with a cackle, sombre portraits covered in fake dust, some nervous whimpers from the group. Mikey appreciated the whispers through the thin walls, which jolted a few of the group. A girl barely past the minimum age gripped her father, scared senseless. Mikey liked that. Not impressed by the fake rotting wood or the phoney cobwebs, though. Most clapped to thank the guide for the effective scares once past the exit door.

“The next attraction, the scary maze.” The guide pointed at high hedgerows ahead as they strolled along for a few minutes to the prickly walls of hedges that rose into the crisp air. In a single file, the group followed the guide inside. This excited Mikey as he wandered around the deception of endless greyish green borders, ripe with the illusion of no exit, only to hear the guide feign the fact that the maze changed as the group moved.

“Not everyone escapes this maze. Some still wander, feeling its walls, hoping for a door. Some never leave.”

The words chilled many guests, but not Mikey. “Yeah, right,” he muttered around one corner.

Only to have that steely eyeball strike him again.

Who is this guy? Mikey thought.

About twenty minutes later, the group emerged; most quite relieved.

“Next, the mine.” The guide led the queue down a broken pathway to a metal door cut into a rock face. “This entrance is to a steep tunnel that takes us down into the rock, where the beings we found still lurk. Stay close.”

He pushed open the door and led the group through a musty tunnel. Mikey felt exhilarated by the yells and squeals among the group as they stumbled around its dimly-lit, winding corridors. The walking space was tight, a blackened artery with dotted light flickers and uneven ground. Wails like throaty screams echoed. He nodded. The stagnated tunnel felt authentic as the way ahead opened into a wider, burrowed space. A few of the group visitors lit up their phone light beams. The funnels of digital light slid over the damp walls as the group and their dancing shadows shuffled onward.

“Take care, my victims, watch your step, due care and attention are your buddies...as opposed to the things...here...” The ominous voice of the guide flowed as he faded into the darkness ahead yet Mikey could still feel that pulsating eyeball on him, the guide’s sentry eyes aware of his every footstep. 

The way ahead narrowed as the walls closed in enough to spark claustrophobic discomfort in a few, and forced all to hunch a little. Occasional stale humidity gave Mikey a smile; so similar to the hidden underground space at home, he’d dug for his victims before he’d ran out of space and chose the woods instead. The group edged along, crouched and the occasional dash as some scaly arms lunged from hidden wall holes, to touch and stir up yelps from the group. Confined spaces never bothered Mikey. There was a time when he crawled through the darkness of his house cellar, dragging a lifeless body before taking it to his new special burial place in the woods nearby; such a dark life experience kind of killed any chance of a chill here.

“Cool stuff,” Mikey called out to get the guide’s attention with an improved attitude as they emerged from the attraction. The guide just smiled back at him, prominent chalky cheek bones raised.

A wave of relief swept over the people upon leaving the mine through a door. The guide beckoned all to keep up and follow.

“Ahead, The House of Pain,” the guide bellowed. He stopped by the entrance to a white washed walled maisonette with a glass door. The guide faced the group. His eyes rolled around as he searched the wowed faces before him. Some still collected themselves after a period of unaccustomed subterranean claustrophobic terror. This prompted the guide to clear his throat and wait a moment. Then a serious, emotionless face spoke.

“Did you know that every year, there are hundreds of active serial killers in the UK? And for the Americans here, yes, I heard your accents, many more than that in the US?”

For a moment, Mikey dwelled on that speech, wondering if maybe - he knew. The others just glanced at each other before following the creepy guide into the next attraction.

“Follow folks, this may disturb more than that dank mine you braved, and give yourselves a clap for surviving that.”

He cheered as many guests clapped with him, yelling, woo hoo. Mikey cherished the ghoulishness of this building, a winding passage past rooms showcasing some of the most grim and notorious murderers through history. The guide had failed to exaggerate. The still wax poses raised guests’ hands to mouths as the group strolled past intimidating and impressive waxworks of killers: Ted Bundy in an act of necrophilia, the Son of Sam or as he and all inspired serial killers knew as the .44 Calibre Killer David Berkowitz, Ian Brady and Myra Hindley burying a child on Saddleworth Moor, and many other nefarious evil doers from BTK to the Boston Strangler to Charles Manson to Jack the Ripper. Each window pane strolled past revealed an intricate snapshot of historic sordid detail and plaques with some gritty facts about the killers.

Grim to the group, moments with like minds for Mikey. He paused to allow the group to stroll past him. A tap on Berkowitz’s glass. Muffled words emerged. “Screw you, Mister 44. I use a polished maul when I look em in the face, so take that.”

Mikey moved along to Jack The Ripper and stared at the malevolent eyes. He liked this infamous killer, how he took organs with him and left letters. 

Inventive guy. Sweet kills. And never caught. Very nice.

He read some of the plaque description below. “This is one inspirational killer. What does that say? Jack left letters written by him after every murder. Jack the Ripper stalked the streets of London’s Whitechapel district in 1888. He killed at least five prostitutes and horribly mutilated their bodies.” Mikey read the mutilation part with glee. “And no-one ever found out who you were, never arrested. That makes two of us, buddy.”

For a second, he wondered if it was a waxwork. The eyes looked so real.

He flinched.

For a moment, he could have sworn this doppelgänger winked at him.

“Silly,” Mikey whispered, and brushed off such nonsense. “Just tiredness,” he told himself.

On leaving the house, a short walk and ahead, an enclosure bordered with a high brick wall and just one door entrance.

“Last shock for Halloween night, folks, here is our much loved and memorable attraction, Zombie Road.”

Mikey strutted with the group as they followed the guide through the entrance and onto a street set which resembled a typical cross section of a village. The set comprised pop-up buildings along a road, including a pub, petrol station, small cinema, shops and bungalows. Most cowered as the actors appeared by the dozen, all in decaying makeup, some chewing on bloody meat.

“Follow me close,” the guide called out. Again, again, that eyeball fixed on Mikey before it resumed attention on the rest of the group.

They crept along the dimly lit road lined with some flickering street lamps and fake grocery stores. As they walked by the cinema, more zombie actors shuffled towards them, hisses and snarls at anyone too close. Some crawled out of hidden spots under rubble in the road and raised a few screams as Mikey just chuckled. As the zombies approached closer, the guide raised a hand, and they ceased their approach and dangled there.

Limp arms swayed, saliva dripping from rotten mouths.

“Nice blood, nice undead flesh eaters.” Mikey said to one actor who professionally stayed in character. Spooky to some, just plain fun for Mikey. He swayed in front of the actor, and grinned, as he tried to break the actor’s concentration.

“Would you like to meet them?”

Strange chilly breath struck the back of Mikey’s neck and he turned fast. First flinch of the evening. The guide stood there, eyes wide, blood-red and leering.

“Okay, love to meet...them...”

“Please make your way out to the door, thank you.” The guide addressed the others before a hasty ushering to a door with a sign that read ‘Leaving Hell Soon’ and way out of the enclosure.

The guests shuffled out the exit doors. Mikey sniggered at the actors. Their limp arms swayed a little. All stared at Mikey. He joined the queue on its way out. 

A pale hand clasped his arm.

“Thought you said you wanted to meet them?”

The wild-eyed guide grinned.

Mikey shrugged. “Okay. Meet the actors. Why not? Actually, not bad zombies. Almost believed it.”

Haste from the guide quickened the queue along as they left through the doors.

“Thanks to you all, spookers. Do come again.”

The doors locked shut from outside.

The guide beamed a confident smile, arms crossed behind his back.

“Now for the last, Mister...Mikey.” The guide’s voice was monotone and lined with a foreboding that gave him chills. Yep, like he’d lost some of his fearless virginity. The guide gestured for the actors to leave the area. They strolled away into the cardboard houses.

Mikey strode to the guide until nose to nose. No smirk, a need to question this guy. The guide continued to smile back, no sign of intimidation in his raised cheekbones and glaring eyes.

“Okay, okay, who the hell are you? You’ve been giving me the stinky eye since I got here. How do you know my name?”

The guide’s arm pointed at the darkened petrol station just fifty yards away. Silhouettes became human shapes and slid in an awkward gait forward. More zombies, except these came with subtle differences to the actors, extra realism to their makeup. Rotten sickly grey skin. Rotted enough to show the white of the humerus. One had gouged out eyes, which raised Mikey’s curiosity. 

Onward, they staggered closer.

Mikey grimaced. “What, oh, okay, a special treat just for me. So, what’s this? I get to meet the undead. Just did that.”

The guide grinned at every taunt from Mikey.

“Though these actors look far more convincing. Nice talent. You really think you can scare me? Again, how do you know my name?”

The guide nodded, a confident nod, a gleam in his red streaked eye as he ambled away for the exit door. “We’ve been watching you for some time, Mikey. So, we freed your victims from that place...in the woods, and brought them here.”

Mikey flinched. “What...the hell did you say?”

“Hell is what’s coming for you. But first, a little Halloween gift from the scream park. This is a very special place, boy. Such darkness exists here, such surprises for slime like you. And now, Mikey, your final and personalised attraction. Raising the dead.”

“What? You did what? Who are you?”

A groan echoed, and Mikey stared at the shapes coming. More undead dragged stale feet his way. Their faces, decayed but familiar, soon came into view. Clarity became familiarity, and then Mikey’s face lit with a fear he’d never known or believed possible.

As they drew closer, an odour not unlike the smell of those dead bodies he hid drifted by his nose.

Six. Their decayed faces. Something was familiar through the rotted faces as they quickened their stagger towards him.

“Can’t be.”

He knew the faces. But how?

That one, the missing eye. Where I struck him with my maul. Surely not. And that one, skull caved in with only one blow. And this one, with the broken hanging jaw…where…I struck him as he tried to escape. Can’t be. No way.

Now clear against the moonlight. Each grisly act of murder came flooding back as recognition finally gave Mikey the fright he never thought would come.

“Say hello to your unfortunate victims who fell by that blunt weapon you so love. We know about all evil fellows across the country and invite them here every Halloween night. You got the email.” The guide almost hissed the words.

“How, how did you know? How could you possibly find me?” Mikey’s voice, brittle.

The guide laughed. “Told you. We see all evil here. You could say we attract evil to this place. And it attracts us to it. We have a strong connection with the dead, and they speak to us. Like your victims, who told us all about you. Time for penance has come, Mikey. And we brought some faces to settle a score.”

The exit doors opened. The clowns that stared at Mikey earlier walked to him at a brisk pace. They shoved him back. He tried to push back with a quick arm extension. One of them grabbed his arm and twisted it and hurled him backwards again. Mikey lost his balance, then fell flat on his butt.

“What is this shit? What kind of joke is this?” Mikey sprung to his feet and backed off as they neared.

The clowns taunted Mikey with a series of sniggers, waiting for him to make a retaliatory move.

“Who the fuck are these clowns?” Mikey wagged at them. “I’ll get you. You hear me.”

The guide shook his head. “Mikey, Mikey, really. Look behind you.”

Their groans, now louder.

Mikey looked at the closing ensemble of people who fell to his maul, only a few feet away. The clowns followed the guide and slipped through the door and shut it tight.

Mikey bolted at the door and banged it. “Hey, hey, fine, you scared me. Great, now let me out.”

The six victims of Mikey’s night time activities closed in on a now perturbed killer. Decomposed arms reached out and pulled him backwards from the door in a tight grip.

“Okay, the joke is over. You actors have given me a scare.” Mikey tried to shake them, but their strength surpassed his ability to slip from their shrivelled palms.

Their lifeless eyes glared at him.

Groans filled the air.

Mikey stared at the decayed faces of his six undead vengeful victims as a tight grip disabled any chance of escape.

The six figures, now as familiar as the day he dug the graves and buried them. The rotten faces of the bodies dragged from his cellar, out to the woods, each victim bludgeoned with his heavy maul. Despite the bone showing beneath sunken, dead flesh, he knew these people. They still wore the same torn clothes, the missing eye, the broken jaw, all familiar. 

All fell to Mikey’s night stalks one by one.

Their hands, with black, bloody sharp nails, gripped Mikey.

“Great joke, Hah.” Mikey cried out. “You got me, something got me. I’m scared. HahAha.”

The faces of his kills locked in an intense and fevered stare. Mouths drooled.

Each clutched a limb.

Within seconds, a series of rips as they tore his body asunder amid a fading yell, the last dying sounds of Mikey.

The six zombies strolled off, each munched on a piece of bloody torn Mikey limbs.

The guide peeked through a crack in the exit door, a satisfied grin. He shut the door and addressed the group waiting outside.

“What was that? Heard that guy scream in there?” A guest asked.

The guide waved his arms. “Not to worry, all part of the attraction. One of you, perhaps two or more of you, gets a special prize every Halloween, and he was chosen.”

“Why him? Guy’s an asshole.” Another guest remarked.

The guide chortled at that statement. “Well, maybe that’s why he got to be this year’s prizewinner, hey?” That cold grin again. “Hope you all loved our scream park. Fright World entertains hundreds of guests every year. Each attraction offers surprises to scare the living daylights out of anyone. Oh, yes. Literally, anybody.”

Then he paused and leaned forward to the group.

“And for some, some very, very bad people, here on Halloween, you shall find your last resting place.”