For the past 62 years, Margaret Fluff has transformed her three-floor Victorian home into a haunted house for the neighborhood children. And frankly, she should stop. Yes, from the outside, the old house gives that feeling that a Victorian home should. That eerie feeling filled with the spirits of people of its past still lurking inside, but the horror ends there.
Upon coming to the front door, the 92-year-old Mrs. Fluff greets you with a warm “Happy Halloween.” She is not the skin and bones, hands shaking, transparent skin, blanket covering her hunchback kind of old woman you hope would greet you at a haunted house. Instead, she looks rather healthy for her age, which is unfortunate because the only chance she has to making this house scary is if she died and came back to haunt the place.
The decorations look as old as the resident herself. Plastic spiders hang down from the ceiling, masks of Dracula and Frankenstein’s monster, and the swamp thing in place of coats on a hanger. The only thing that popped out the whole time was Mr. Fluff covered in a bed sheet who could be seen coming from a mile away and whose white velcro strap sneakers were showing.
I applaud the Fluff’s for trying to do it up and get three floors of terror, but I hardly made it half way on the second floor before I was frightfully bored. If you do decide to go, be wary when you do because there could be children who go on the tour. The ones on mine shrieked, screamed, and laughed with excitement. It was a monstrosity that not one child cried from terror. The Fluffs do give everyone a full-size candy bar and homemade cookies when departing, probably to say sorry for a placid haunted house rather than imparting the Halloween spirit. This place is a big boooooo!