House of Frankenstein
“I’ve never seen anything so cheesy in my life,” I say as my family of two adults and five kids explore Clifton Hill in Niagara Falls, Ontario.
We pass wax museum after themed restaurant, haunted house after themed restaurant, weird museum after themed restaurant, and so on. “What a blatant money grab this place is…” I continue. Not really trying to be negative, but really trying to comprehend who would build a street filled with such gaudy attractions.
But we were there for one attraction in particular. The Ripley’s Believe it or Not museum. A couple of fans of the books were amongst our crew and it happened to be at the top of the hill.
But, the fascinating wonders we found inside that museum is another post…
“Can we go in a haunted house?”
The question was asked by various children of various ages (8, 13, 14 – boys)
“No thanks!” The response from the two sixteen year old girls.
“Oh, what the heck, why not – this is the hokiest thing I’ve ever scene.” says Mom… (that’d be me!)
Having several villains to pick from including Dracula and various guarantees of nightmare causing experiences, we settled on the House of Frankenstein.
Yes, folks – very scary indeed… (it was, really!)
A very important note – the sign at the entrance said – “No one in this attraction will touch you.” – how very comforting.
The two girls, waited by the entrance, while three boys and two adults (me included!) entered the building. Picking the order of who goes first was an interesting conversation in it’s self, the unanimous answer was, “Not me!” So, naturally, the youngest was picked to go first – excellent brave eight year old, with adult hands planted firmly on his shoulders directly behind him, you know, for, uh, moral support.
The corridors were black.
Black, I tell you… not even a smidgen of light!
The floors uneven.
Long stringy bits of somethings hung from the ceiling.
Now perhaps this was cheating, but oh, well, tough nugies – I realized that when holding down the shutter button half way on my camera, a green light came on. So, every few steps, I’d hold my camera up and flash a green light making the blackness, not so black.
Well, along we go, in a line, me taking up the rear. What happens next is not a lie…
All the boys turn a corner and as I’m about to, I’m sure I see something move about ten feet in front of me. A wall, turning… shifting… opening. A shadow emerges and then very fast runs at me.
I am screaming!
(I am informed later, that apparently I f-bombed about three times…) I don’t recall this.
This being stops in front of me and then turns and disappears. The boys, hearing me scream (and f-bomb) have stopped and wait for me to catch up… how-nice-of-them.
We follow the remainder of the corridors and eventually end up back outside with the girls. Exhilarated. Oh-what-fun-yes-lets-do-that-again… No.
However, after the trip, when I got home and emptied my camera of photos. I found the most fun accident of all – I triggered my shutter during my little freak on…