Tuesday, October 25, 2011

O Haunted Night

We took our kids to the Buford Corn Maze last Saturday.

We chose that day as our best option, given that we thought the place would be packed on Halloween weekend. Also, given how my beloved Auburn Tigers played on Saturday afternoon against LSU, getting out of the house was the only way to avoid having to watch the highlights.

One of the biggest attractions at the Corn Maze is the Haunted Forest. Both my sons, ages 14 and 9, were excited about seeing it. However, as I scanned the rules, I became a little concerned that my 9 year old might not be able to handle it. Per the rules it said:
Recommended for 13 and up

“It says 13 and up.” I commented to my younger son. “Are you sure?”

“Dad. I’m fine.”


We were greeted at the entrance by two overdressed Goths who smiled and welcomed us in. We’d only gone a few feet when one of the props broke from a still position and decided to follow us.

“Who-o-o-o-o,” the ghoul said.

My nine-year old grabbed on to me. “It’s alright,” I said. “You’ll be fine.”

But my nine-year old couldn’t take his eyes off the female ghoul behind us.

“RAHRRRR!” a voice said from close to our feet as a monster pretended to claw at us from a broken cage.

And from there, my nine-year old was a basket case. He hung on to me for dear life and I couldn’t move without him dragging his feet on the ground. My 14-year old was fascinated, but I couldn’t tell if it was with the attraction itself or his little brother.

“Daddy, I wanna go,” my nine-year-old said.

I remembered the sign from the entrance.

Actors will not touch you. Please do not touch them.

“Don’t worry,” I said, remembering the sign. “The monsters won’t touch you. You’ll be fine.” It didn’t help.

As we proceeded through the forest, I realized how it worked. One actor would follow you so you’d focus on what was behind you and then someone would spring in front of you. However, I was too focused on my son. I missed their entrance.

“Daddy, can we leave?”

I looked around for the next turn in the forest. “Hold on,” I responded. “I’m looking for the next way to go.”

“Left” a gravely voice replied from behind the wall.

We continued to make progress as best we could. A Friday the 13th wannabe jumped in front of with a machete. I smiled back at the guy and said, “Sorry, he’s had enough.”

I looked at my younger son again. “Don’t worry. They won’t touch you.”

“That’s right. We won’t touch you,” said one of the ghouls in a low voice.

We eventually made it out of the forest and my nine-year old was relieved. We jokingly asked him if he wanted to go back in. His eyes flew open. He shook his head.

We promised we wouldn’t bring him back next year. He seemed fine with that.

I do have to admit to that the ghouls in the forest did sense that my younger son was scared. Another one must have noted the Auburn pullover my older son wore into the forest.

At some point in the forest, I could have sworn one of the ghouls said “War Eagle.”

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