There's something spine-chilling happening in Paris! It's drawing the undead.
Calling all princesses, ghosts, baseball players, fairies, superheroes and rockstars: October in Texas means endless opportunities to dress up and play.
It will be dusk or already dark as you enter through the gates at Screams Halloween Theme Park in Waxahachie, flames shooting skyward from the parapet of the haunted castle, fog rolling down the hill. You’ll walk past a cemetery, where mysterious dark figures lumber in the shadows. Immersed in Halloween for the evening—not just the 15 minutes or so that a standard haunted house might offer—you’re in for a frightful night. Lurking within are dozens of costumed actors, trained in the art of surprising their targets. After all, gory prosthetic wounds and menacing chainsaw props can only go so far: Getting scared is all about being startled.
The woman behind the registration desk at the Hotel Galvez glanced at the number as she handed me my keycard. “Oh, you’re staying in our special room,” she said, eyebrows raised. “Did you know that?”
Come Halloween season, Texans go crazy for haunted houses, whether they’re front-porch affairs or theatrical presentations such as Waxahachie’s Screams, featured in our October 2013 issue.
My boyfriend seems unusually skittish as he peers into the utter blackness beyond our cabin door at Caddo Lake State Park. I’ve prepared two hot cups of ginger tea for us to sip on the porch in the crisp night air. But Marshall, willing only to open the door a crack, suggests that we enjoy our tea in the cozy confines of the cabin’s interior.