I have come to find that I have a knack for story telling, so I figured I would share a story about one of my experiences in a haunted house.

I was about 14 or 15 and my best friend at the time loved all things scary and I, well, did not. I'm not one for scary things all together. I don't want to see scary movies, I don't want to tell scary stories, and I don't want to go to haunted places... but there I was, in a line for a three-story haunted house in the backstreets of Soulard, St. Louis.

As we waited in line we were greeted by an undead man with a bullet-hole in his forehead, dressed as a groom. He would sporadically pop up behind women and ask them to marry him, which ultimately meant he was fantastic at reading who was most scared...ME.

We continued to wait. I think our total wait time in line was about 3 hours before we actually got inside the holding area where they split people into groups. After three hours, you sort of get to know who is around you. Behind us was a group of older women who were very intoxicated and in front of us was a group of fraternity brothers with one girl. The girl was, for lack of a better word, quite masculine. She seemed to be quite tough and wore her letterman jacket proudly. I had no problem with who she was or how she was happy, but I did wonder if she was as scared as I was.

Once we entered the threshold of the holding area, my stomach immediately was in knots. I looked at my best friend and told her I was terrified, and just like that we were pushed into the first room of the building.

We went through probably every room of my worst nightmare, a swamp with a swamp-man-monster chasing us, a man with a chainsaw and flashing lights, hallways with mirrors that dropped down, and actors who would come and whisper in your ear. Needless to say, my head was buried in my best friends back and I kept screaming. I was a huge target. If you've ever been to a haunted house you may know this, but being put into groups and going into the house at different times doesn't mean you won't run into people. After lots of running and crying and screaming, we ran into the group of frat brothers.

We ran with, between, and through their group for a while and the whole time the girl of their group was not phased. I had people grabbing my arms and hair, yet she was fine. She just walked behind the group with a cold glare. I guess it was safe to assume she didn't want to be there either, but she was unperturbed.

Until we came to a very, very narrow hallway with pictures and mirrors.

We had gone down over four of these hallways before, but this one was different. It was quiet, suspiciously quiet. I knew that someone was going to move a mirror or picture and jump out to spook us, but others forgot to anticipate it. The girl of the group in front of us did not anticipate it. Finally, after two and a half hours of running and screaming, she got scared. A small man dressed as a scary and malicious clown dropped down a mirror and screamed at the girl. As human beings, we have the instinct of "fight of flight". I obviously am a flight type of person when it comes to horror situations, but she, she was a fight. The mirror dropped, the man screamed, she was startled and stepped back only to cock her arm into a fist and hurl her fist into his nose.

*DING DING* "POW! What a hit." After a hard blow to the nose, the actor behind the mirror was down for the count. OUT COLD. DONE FOR THE DAY, GO HOME, BYE!

Another actor who was behind the wall with him broke character to help him. He looked at the girl who glared back and shrugged her shoulders. This moment was like a movie. I had never seen something happen so fast. I immediately burst into laughter and laughed hysterically until we finally made it through the haunted house. It took us 4 hours to make it through all three stories and only 20 seconds to completely change my mood.

After that night, I vowed to never go to a haunted house again because I had seen the most glorious show of all in the first one I went to.