As we crept around the first corner in the house, peering sideways back and forth, a giant skull-eating beast emerged from its lair and shook its giant arms at us angrily.
The group recoiled as the monster waved a decomposing body at us, taunting the possibility of our own demise to its mighty grip. It took loads of constitution to keep going past the beast, the rank wind that blew from its direction would have been enough to turn most parties back.
Next we were led down a long, narrow corridor lined with doors on either side. The hallway was still, but held the potential for more disturbing frights than we could imagine. Halfway down the walk, an assault hit us from the front of the group. A haggard old woman with a gnarled face sprang from behind a door and broke our tight formation with a shriek and a warning to leave her house.
How did we continue, knowing that there was only more of the like ahead of us?
More corners were rounded, more ghastly spooks made their attacks.
The narrow hall opened up for us and revealed a sight that was hard to fathom. A bridgework extended through a madly spinning tunnel and ended with a closed door. There was no choice to be made, we had to push on.
Through our disorientation we struggled across the bridge, gripping the hand rails for our very lives. Just when the vertigo fully gripped us, midway across the divide, two undead beings began a murderous assault on us from either end of the path. One blew the door off of its hinges in front of us and the other made a sneak attack from the rear.
Stricken with frigid panic, we clung to the rail, closed our eyes, and hoped that their target was each other. Not knowing exactly what had happened, they passed us up for another victim and we made our way to the door.
A pitch black maze led us to a room filled with bright white smoke. Our eyes unable to adjust, we stumbled and felt our way around the area. Just at the moment when we were sure we had our bearings a wicked demon emerged from the light, eclipsing the fog and redirecting us in a different direction.
Our situation only worsened from there, and I'll have to spare you the grizzly descriptions, some of which are not suitable for publication.
When we finally made our escape from the house, looking back on it with awe, we clung together and considered ourselves lucky to be alive.
Rob Felt is the photographer for the Daily Herald. He can be reached at (770) 957-9161 or firstname.lastname@example.org .