I Lived to Tell About It

Friday night I went to a haunted house. I don’t normally do haunted houses, in fact I am not sure when the last time it was that I had even been to one, probably a very very long time ago. I argue that my parents must have traumatized me when I was young with one, I vaguely remember an incident outside a community haunted house when I was quite young that might have been the last one I went to. I even opted to not go through the haunted house the Special Ed school put on when I was in 3rd grade out of fear.

But some weeks back I got this notion in my head that I really wanted to face my fear and give a haunted house a try again. It all sounded like a really fun idea until Friday night rolled around and my fears started to get the better of me again but my friend told me it would be “really really fun” and promised to be my protector so to the haunted house we went. I was a bit relived to see the 30 min line we had to wait in before we could enter the house and I passed the time in line talking to nice little 8 yr olds who weren’t afraid at all. I figured if they could do it then I could do it too!
So the the point of the story is I went through a haunted house and lived to tell about it. I’m not going to say I didn’t scream, and I’m not going to say I wasn’t clinging to my protector at all times, but honestly there was never a part where I was terrified. Which is why next weekend I want to up the ante and step it up in terms of scary-ness and hit Cutting Edge, the genius record
holder for the longest haunted house.

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