The Ol' Jailhouse Downtown

When I was maybe seven I begged my Mom to bring me to the JCs haunted jailhouse downtown. It was an actual abandoned jailhouse and I imagined real ghosts creaking and squeaking around corners scaring the wits out of us all as we tiptoed through. What I witnessed was far more terrifying; ghouls with blood dripping off their hanging flesh rattled the jail house bars with their limbs stretching out and tearing at our clothes all the while wailing to be let go the jailer lashing at them with a cat-o-nine tails from the back of the cell, just inches from my hidden face. Possessed women with hair like seaweed snorted and snarled through their mangled mouths threatening to send evil spirits straight after me if I stared too long as Mom carried me past their green puke filled chambers. Long dark twisting corridors ambled through unknown realms seemingly endless in their terror inducing fervor as I walked sharing the insides of Mom’s coat clutching hold of her with every cell in my body. Finally we emerged out into the warm glow of the street lights and my exhausted Mom peeled me off of her and set my terrified body into the backseat of the car. I begged to go again every year until it closed.