The time has arrived. The sun has set on the horizon and inky darkness is overtaking the city. Streetlamps light many walkways, and you can see the cars pulling into the designated parking spaces. Excited teenagers and even some adults making their way towards the house. The doors officially open in two minutes. Enough time for you to take your spot on the porch to welcome the guests.

“Welcome, welcome to the Hill House. I see some familiar faces in the crowd and some new ones. For those of you who know how this works, I ask that you remain quiet so that I may explain the rules to the new ones. Each person is to be put into groups of four or five. Each group is then given a bingo card. On this card, you will see a blueprint outline of the house. The objective here is to visit each room, survive the frights, and get your card marked via a stamp by the attendant. None of the attractions will kill you, but some might be scarier than you can handle. If at any time you wish to leave the house, speak to the closest attendant and say “Pumpkin Spice.” They will know to take you out the safe way.”

You pause a moment and let the words sink into their brains. “At the end of the trip, you will exit out the front door. There is a table for you to enter some information on your card if you have not already done so. Choose a Team Name, list the team members, and provide the name and contact details of the designated team captain. When all of the cards are handed in the review process begins. The team or teams that get the most stamps will win a prize. This prize is a secret something mysterious but well worth it.”

With the rules and instructions out of the way, you signal the start of the fun. Your eyes watch as the patrons make their way to the stairs that will lead them to the attic of the house and the start of the spiral down into the depths. You haven’t timed it, but you do have someone keeping count of the number of groups and the number in each group. You don’t want to risk anyone getting lost. Though, you wonder if tonight is going to be different. There’s a chill in the air, and you can feel as if there are eyes on you.

Whispers coax your mind into a state of awareness but you cannot quite make out what they say. Do you dare risk leaving your spot? Of, going to investigate? It’s not that this particular job is hard, you could have anyone do it but you enjoy greeting the patrons when they’ve left. Listening to them comment about what areas were liked the most. But as you stand there, you can feel a desire to slink into the shadows and go do your bit of haunting.