It's a scream
By Kirsten Ballard
Published in News on October 29, 2014 1:46 PM
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News-Argus/MELISSA KEY
Colton Fowler, one of the many clowns in Marr Branch Haunted House, is statuesque until his prey moves by.
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News-Argus/MELISSA KEY
Gage Williams, 12, has been been a Marr Branch spook for the past three years. This year, he is cooking up trouble in the kitchen.
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Kirsten Ballard
MOUNT OLIVE -- Before Friday night, I thought I was brave.
I survived Scarowinds.
I watch crime shows.
I even, on occasion, kill bugs.
So before I, and News-Argus photographer Melissa Key, arrived at the Marr Branch haunted house -- located at 2289 Garner Chapel Rodd -- I assured my companion that we were going to be fine, despite the fact that I was told Marr Branch is the second scariest haunting in the state.
Let's just say, I have a lot of apologizing to do.
The haunted house -- which is open from 7:30 p.m. until, according to the website, whenever they get tired of torturing your poor souls -- is operated by the Jones family.
So before our run, the family's matriarch, Debbie, gave us some background -- how her family bought the farm five years ago; how she runs Marr Branch with her husband, children and grandchildren.
There are flashing lights, loud noises, fog machines, dark places and tight spaces, so if any of these things bother you, I don't recommend attending.
And if you don't like waiting to get into places, Marr Branch might not be the place for you.
OK.
Enough background.
On with my mea culpa.
First, I'm sorry for hysterically laughing at the people who ran screaming from the house and were added to the chicken board, a place reserved for a tally of those who are not capable of making it through the house.
I wouldn't add to that total.
I'm brave, remember?
Debbie put Melissa and me into a group with two brave high-schoolers, Kaitlyn Sullivan, 16, and Wesley Thorton, 17.
In the first room, visitors are told the story of MacGreegor Edmundson Krabbs and his family of "crazy rednecks."
Jimmy Jones spins the tale of a series of failed experiments, murder and diseases -- all while holding Molly, a very sick, disfigured little girl.
I was feeling pretty brave, until Molly suddenly lashed out at us.
At that point, the chicken board did not seem like the worst thing in the world.
I'm sorry for making you go first the whole time, Kaitlyn -- and for yelling at you when we got lost or trapped.
Guests of Marr Branch wind through a series of hallways, where people in various states of disfigurement jump out. A few times, we got lost in the darkness, and I wrapped my hand a little further into the back of Wesley's hood, just to make sure we all stayed together.
I'm sorry for choking you, Wesley. And for ruining your date night.
In the kitchen, blood and guts drip from the walls. A small man held a round saw and screamed at us. We all returned his greeting and dashed into the next room.
The next few rooms were a blind dash, where I occasionally opened my eyes to see strobe lights, hanging "corpses" and a "redneck on a toilet."
But the worst part is that as you sprint from room to room, they follow -- lurking behind and standing too close for comfort, before whispering how much they "love it when you scream."
I'm sorry for using you as a human shield, Melissa.
After winding through the farm house, you are led outside and to the barn, where it is impossible to tell which of the bodies were alive. The only way to know is to stick around to see which ones move.
I wasn't sticking around.
The entire tour lasts 20 to 25 minutes. William Jones, the chainsaw wielding "Bubba" and mechanic behind all the special effects, said we were moving pretty quickly when we passed him, but that could be because we were all in a dead sprint.
And when the chainsaw started, I shoved Melissa -- so the chainsaw could get her and give me more time to get away.
Yes.
That really happened.
So I guess I owe the biggest apology to her.
Here it goes.
I'm sorry, Melissa.
I'm sorry I'm not sorry.