COC with BLS and Red Fang in St. Pete's

With an assistant who’s eye is still healing from getting injured in the last mosh pit, you are leery.  Thinking back to all the concerts you went to weekly by yourself when you were living up on Lake Erie, summon the courage to convince yourself lighting does not strike in the same place twice in theory.

It’s not like it’s an abnormity for you to go see Corrosion of Conformity; blend in with anonymity.

There’s a type of comfort found when you’re hiding in the crowd, becoming one within the masses.  Given the history, did you really think they wouldn’t notice the former Harley Girl wearing glasses?  Honestly, did you think that you would just be holed up in one of Jannus Live’s dark crevasses?

Maybe you did, but it’s kind of hard to say you hid when you’re in front of the barricade, heaven forbid.

Red Fang had just taken the stage when you walked in, so you beelined straight for the barricade.  Camera in hand, furiously snap as many pictures as possible before the end of the third song is played.  When the other photographers start shuffling towards you, it’s time to hide like a masquerade.

Push past people into the shroud.  Walk through a cloud.  Appreciate Red Fang playing loud.

It drowns out any conversation that people are having, allowing you to fully take in every note.  Rhythmically, you find yourself moving to the beat, bopping around like a hurricane tossing a boat.  There’s a little violence to the motions, along with a dreaminess, and the song lashes like a knout.

It digs into your flesh, burrowing with each thresh, as if the song were attempting to enflesh.

By the time Corrosion of Conformity takes the stage, you cannot contain yourself any longer.  Commanding you to move like a marionette, the notion to dance was not just growing a little stronger, the melodic groove combined with violence pulled your strings to dance around as if a warmonger.

“Um, excuse me, dear.  Do you realize you’re not the only one here?  I just wanted to make that clear.”

Snap back to reality.  You just danced crazy through the whole set.  The people behind you were upset.  Apologize for getting a little too wild, as you couldn’t help but react to the beats and produce sweat.  Attempt to move a little closer, and the cry babies follow you, so you try to make an offering: a calumet.

While up front, you’re identified.  A stage tech comes well supplied.  He tosses something to your side.

At first, you’re not really paying attention, so he throws another to the person on the other side of you.  Look up and see him smiling at you.  He gives the, “are you ready?” look.  Grin: you know what he’ll do.  He smiles wide and tosses a guitar pick inside of your shirt, landing between your tits, and his smile grew.

He waved after throwing it down the hatch.  Nobody dared to snatch.  “That was a pretty good catch.”

You clarify that it was good aim, and leave it at that, not wanting to explain touring the country again.  Years had passed since your younger years of being sexy and dominating, with Ozzfest being your reign.  The people on stage remember you, so why do you have to gab with strangers or even try to explain?

Just smile like it’s random.  Pretend that you’re just part of the fandom.  No need for a memorandum.

Watch the other photographers go where you just were for COC, only now you’re just in the crowd.  Waiting until the last minute to ask Bill for a photo pass, it didn’t matter if you swore or got too loud.  With a sold-out show, it’s hard to expect him to have one extra, and it didn’t matter if you were proud.

At least you got to wave at Pepper.  It’s hard to pretend to be a schlepper.  It’s not like you were a leper.

He acknowledged you on stage, as he had every other time that he’s seen you; he’s your Cheshire cat.  Appearing in multiple books of yours, he always has his token huge grin, but then, it’s like where’s he at?  He’ll disappear as quickly as he appeared, making you wonder if he was just a hallucinated diplomat.

He’s always been one of your favorites.  It’s not because of his hits.  You know the guy behind the glitz.

In New Orleans, he kept tabs on you like an uncle, and Frenchie told you to call him Mr. Roper even.  Checking out a guy that wanted to marry you, calling out his bullshit, Pepper was a guy to believe in.  Never one to make you feel uncomfortable, he and his bandmates were just always even Steven.

Bring a vegetarian dish for Mike.  Woody taught you to like Dwight Yoakam.  It’s never, “take a hike.”

First time meeting Reed, he chatted like he knew you forever, welcoming you without having a clue.  When you brought a friend that played bass, they put on Mike Gordon’s video to teach what to do.  There’s literally all styles of music that the guys of COC are into, and well-rounded musicians should, too.

Black Label Society, now that’s a whole different story.  Perhaps they have notoriety of insobriety.

That’s not the side you knew, as you recalled Zakk playing Uno with his kid just like any average dad.  You remember walking up to Robert in Denver, not having a clue who he was, chatting like a comrade.  Once you learned who he was, he made tour fun by making funny faces whenever you looked sad.

Then there’s Nick.  When you heard his fate, it made you sick.  Is everybody viewing him to be a dick?

You can only remember hitting the jackpot for him, which is nothing you expected to do in Reno.  Walking through this hole in the wall joint, your friend wanted to talk to him, seeing him at the casino.  Nick told you to sit and play slots, and when the coins started falling, you didn’t even know.

Did you hit cash out?  The light started flashing, so there’s little doubt.  The manager came about.

Drinks all the way around, big handshakes and congratulations; you won by playing off of his money.  Surreal, the three of you couldn’t believe it.  Slurp down free drinks, and laugh how it’s funny.  Completely a gentleman, Nick gave you a large sum of cash, insisting you keep it: “you won it, honey.”

Let’s not forget Jim.  Didn’t he play with White Lion?  That’s him.  Eat with him backstage on a whim.

Oh, the long, dark-haired JD.  Were you grinning at thee?  That eye contact could very well be silly.  Wait, did Zakk just say he had been on Tinder more than 20 years?  That’s one worn out old willy.  Claiming that he’s never had an STD, that only makes paranoia grow; scratch like having morbilli.

Even the techs, you hadn’t seen in years.  They’re the unseen heroes slinging gears.  To them, cheers.

There’s some you’ve seen at other shows across the globe, as the music scene is filled with pools.  Having expensive equipment, it’s not like these big named bands want to hire a bunch of dumbass fools.  Passing years, you see the same faces, as the techs are the guys that seem to know about all the tools.

These guys are good in a jam.  They’ve even explained a music program.  They have skills, Madame.

Speaking of skills, Zakk jammed on a baby grand piano, as did Dario, but there was a feeling though.  Within the pit of the stomach, you could feel a premonition, a feeling of death that you felt below.  Thinking of Dimebag shot in the face right before they unveiled his picture was creeping in slow.

It was the feeling Drowning Pool had.  They called the death; it was sad.  Who’s next is bad.

Right when you worry that it might be someone famous, fearing it could be Zakk, it’s hopefully not.  Instead, this one hits a little closer to home, but you wouldn’t know until you were in the parking lot.  You could feel something not right, but it was not anyone expected that you would have thought.

Leave the venue and hear music play.  Stop when you hear a band slay.  Time to dance more, hurray. 

Stormbringer was just playing covers, but they were meticulously on point like you couldn’t believe.  Though the tiny momentary blissfully ignorant joy was another moment where you could be naïve.  Stopping to rest, check your phone to find that one of your school friends died; you cry and grieve.

Think to how life is short.  Sometimes, it’s the little things that thwart.  Enjoy the musical consort.

Want some interesting facts?  http://blacklabelsociety.net/did-you-know/

Check out coc.com and redfang.net.  More by Marisa: www.lulu.com/spotlight/thorisaz.

Best FL Mosh 2017: Gatecreeper, Power Trip, Cannibal Corpse

Cannibal Corpse might not seem like a show to take a kid to, but that didn’t stop people from doing it.  Go try telling those homegrown Florida boys that they can’t see their hometown heroes play at home.  Some might have brought the kid as a rite of passage, but you saw a tiny limp body dragged out the pit.

Gatecreeper started the debauchery.  The crowd got rowdy.  Stand by the massive pole for safety.

Of course, there’s no barricades at a show like this, so you have to bring a friend just for protection.  Anchor him to one side of you to try to prevent any impact from shattering the camera and yourself.  It’s time to start practicing those martial art techniques, guiding incoming body weight with deflection.

Try to hold the camera steady.  People drench past you.  Here comes another slamming body; get ready.

From the minute the music started, the crowd was more than ready to move into a massive mosh.  Dripping sweat doesn’t take long to form on bodies, and people slime across you with a snail trail.  Getting close to the stage allows others to take the most impact, but they push into you *squash.*

People tight like bees at honeycomb.  They want to sting shit.  Prepare to drag bodies to the catacomb.

Outside, under the dark cloak of night, precipitation gathers, darkening the sky, making it cloudy.  Droplets of rain fall like the tears and heavy sweat of people as the open floor becomes the menagerie.  The music starts, body parts fly, and it might be someone’s foot in your face as a way to say howdy.

Get surrounded like a continental shelf.  Yet, there’s a disconnection.  Elbows, knees: protect yourself.

A wave of energy incited the crowd as the next band took the stage; the crowd went bonkers cuckoo.  People become flying objects as people flip off of the stage, and they don’t care if you’re unready.  Divers jump even when you think they’d know better, making Power Trip an unexpected breakthrough.

Seemingly nobody watched the stage.  Jump without looking into a pole.  Doing flips was all the rage.

Feel so many different pieces of body parts next to you that you could be wrapped in a spring roll.  Dallas boys on stage, bringing that cowboy rowdiness to FL, were surely a band that could engage.  Something about their music inspired the rage that made all the people seemed to lose all self-control.

Get pissed enough to not care about jail.  Vent bottled up hogwash.  Hopefully, someone will bail.

By the time Cannibal Corpse takes the stage, things get a little more under control on lock down.  There’s no more people jumping off of the stage, no more guys landing on the kids in the crowd.  There’s a video of a lifeless kid being pulled out of the pit and onto the stage that will make a frown.

It’s a hometown show.  Their friends brought their kids.  Nobody wants a kid taking full force elbow.

Let alone a shoe to the face, as I had the pleasure of, which sent my glasses flying off of my face.  Attempting to look on the ground amidst people moshing is not exactly an easy task to say the least.  Luckily, the glasses were found many feet away, amazingly uncrushed, which was like a winning ace.

Put the glasses away.  Hurry up and take as many pictures as possible.  Put the camera up, so it’s okay.

Hold on tight, as drunk people have gotten a little too into the mosh, and there’s always those few.  Those are the ones that keep trying to start a mosh where there’s not one; the families don’t want it.  Still, they slosh around, kicking and elbowing into the small fries cowering, as they didn’t have a clue.

Those ones piss you off.  They turn passiveness into aggressiveness.  You finally go off like a molotov.

It doesn’t matter how hard you hit, they keep coming back, so you are ready to let them be plowed.  There’s trying to be nice, having a friendly mosh, then there’s the bitch switch set for a touchdown.  Don’t hold back, and let them have it with an epic explosion that is like an exploding mushroom cloud.

You have the will to beast.  You’re ready to pounce and chase.  This punk is going to be your feast.

Ping pongs back again, bouncing off someone else back to you, so you play football and leave skids.  Drunkard starts looking woozy, like one too many spins while riding the nonstop ride of Calypso.  Growing inside is that festering rage that makes you pissed, wanting this punk to see only eyelids.

Grind your teeth until they grit.  This guy’s got no clue.  You’re ready to pulverize him, you admit.

Your friend looks over you and notices that you’re more than ready to angrily launch mission impossible.  Tapping on your arm, he tries to mumble something to you, and you’re not sure what he’s trying to say.  He motions, pointing away from the mosh pit, towards the bar, as he knows that you are explosible.

Perhaps it’s time to split.  It’s time; he knew.  He wants to prevent any crimes you’re ready to commit.

Where else is a better place to vent out the frustrations of whatever it is that’s your oppressiveness?  The show had the best mosh pit in Florida of 2017 that was more infectious than the whooping cough.  Getting out that anger, having a good time, even if you’re bruised up the next day is impressiveness.

cannibalcorpse.net

https://www.facebook.com/powertripTX

https://www.facebook.com/gatecreeper

https://www.facebook.com/gatecreeper

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/thorisaz

Jay-Z, sex toys, and relationships

“Oh man, Jay’Z’s got my poker,” you sigh with realization that your newest piece of silicone from Jack and Jill’s Adult store was missing the metal rod that attached into the bottom.  Tear through the gift bags from Jack and Jill’s Adult store, pulling out rabbits, lube, condoms, and everything except for the pointed metal poker that was supposed to be tucked into the underside of the pipe that you acquired.  Dump the bags out one item at a time, discovering the gifts that were given out at last night’s event with certified sexologist Susan Ruth Freedman; you’d won raffles, and even though you looked through all the bags, you realized that the metal piece was missing - you knew that it did not fall in the parking lot at the Crowne Plaza in Orlando, as you would’ve heard it, so you knew it was somewhere on Jay-Z’s bus.

Think back to the night before, and let the air escape from your lungs slowly, deflating your lungs like a balloon that is being slowly deflated by a controlling hand that hates to see the air go but lets it escape.  You had not even planned on going to Orlando, even though his crew member called you up on hump day to announce he wound be flying in from New Orleans on Friday.  All you had planned on doing was going up to Saint Petersburg to attend the sexologist’s talk on how to keep relationships spicy, but then you thought you’d bring a friend with you, and the next thing you knew, you were off to Orlando to lose some stuff on Jay-Z’s bus at the Crowne Plaza and not even stay for the show tonight.

The show is probably going on right now.  He probably just took the stage.  You could’ve been there, but your friend had to be to work at six this morning, and you had to meet up with some customers, too.

So, let’s start with the sex.  They say sex sells.  Go to where they sell sex toys.

You had been looking forward to attending the event for a while, as you loved trying out new things.  Free stuff is in the budget.  You missed getting to try all the new adult industry stuff that you got to when you had been working at Fairvilla in Key West, a store that you had helped open, working up in the processing, tucked away in the little loft area, plucking away at the computer, doing the behind the scenes work that people don’t normally think of when they think of the adult industry, entering products, doing basically shipping and receiving, double checking orders, updating inventory, suggesting new things that you’ve never seen before, making things pretty by doing displays and fun stuff.

You’d go out for promotional times, as that was back in your younger, sexier years, when you were fresh off the Ozzfest tour, dating and working for a body painter you’d worked with on tour – as you were a model on a motorcycle, and with the body parts he painted, it worked naturally in a strange way, especially since he taught you a lot about what it means to be an artist - open to all kinds of freaky stuff.  Prior to joining the tour, you’d been working at a regional entertainment magazine that you had pretty much taken over for a college professor, covering concerts six to seven nights a week - traveling through Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio – and when the tour came to Detroit’s stop, which was really the former Pine Knob that is now called DTE, you had been covering the bands, taking pictures in front of the stage, when Rob Zombie pulled you up on stage, which opened the door to being asked if you wanted to join the tour.  You said yes, and they thought you were joking, while you thought they were joking, but you wound up getting a job as a Harley girl, which you thought was selling motorcycles or keychains, but really wound up being a position of modeling on top of a Harley, taking pictures with people each day.

While you had been working on the tour, you had along the way met Polo, who had been a tech for one of the bands on the tour.  The two of you kept in touch over the course of the past 15 years, so when he told you that he was out touring now with Jay-Z, the two of you would meet up for lunch or dinner, just to catch up and chat, keep tabs on how the other is doing.  Polo was not his real name, but you were on a kick last night teasing him, calling him Polo as a response to his real name, which you tried to justify by saying that it was one of your favorite games as a kid growing up in Michigan, which is a peninsula state, the same as Florida; meaning, both states are surrounded by water, and that’s a water babies’ game.

Even though you knew people had been teasing that callback to him his whole life, you didn’t care.  Insisting on calling him Polo, it became one of those jokes of the night that just got funnier the madder that he got, as you could see him getting irritated with it.  There’s something about teasing him that you enjoy, something about the powerplay of domination over him, leaving him wanting for more.

Was that it what it was?  That Sub-dom attraction?  Him being motorboat height?

You were tall for a girl, and he was short for a guy, so the two of you together might look odd to some people, but it was kind of a fun thing for you.  Yes, as discovered at the sexologist talk, you had some sexual issues.  That’s what sexologists are for, working through those issues, so it was actually cool.

It was cool enough for you to invite a friend along, who knew a little bit about spicing things up, especially since the two of you both won from the raffle drawings where they were giving Jack and Jill sexy toys away.  It’s always fun to replenish a stash of sex toys, as some toys do die over time.  At times, you feel a bit jaded, so it’s always refreshing to hear new ideas outside of your set ways. 

She talked about Dr. John Gottman’s six magic hours of things to do each week to enhance connection with a partner.  From taking a couple minutes to kiss hello and goodbye each day, to a few minutes of admiration and appreciation for each other, along with physical affection, and even having a couple hours each week for a date night, there was one thing that stuck out to you the most, and that was taking an hour each week for a State of the Union Meeting.  Better than calling it a bitch fest, the message is about how to communicate effectively any issues arising, be it anything from discussing bad habits, to things like promotions at work, but when discussing any bad points, it’s not as easy as they say to broach subjects in a manner which will not offend the other person, so she shared some key tips.

Take “could, should and would” out of the equation.  Leave out the expectations.  Discuss your feelings and traumas from the point of view of how it makes you feel, as opposed to attacking a person’s character or making it seem as if you are pointing the finger, placing blame for the cause and effect.

If you feel a certain way because of a specific trauma, talk about it.  That’s easier said than done.  Admitting that you have had a trauma takes guts; not everyone is willing to express, even with the best of intentions, but it’s having the guts to try to do it that can make things clearer to the other involved.

Another interesting concept was Gary Chapman’s idea of having five different love languages, as not everyone views love the same way.  Some people like receiving gifts or visual tokens of love, while others might like quality time or physical touch.  Acts of service, or doing things without being asked as a way of showing appreciation for your partner, and even giving compliments may be how others express love or understand someone else’s gesture of love; knowing which is best for your partner helps a lot.

If one person’s expression of love is physical touch, but they are with a partner that did not grow up in a touchy feely family, didn’t express their love in that way, then the two might not understand each other’s actions the same way when it comes to love.  If instead, the other person understood love to be helping each other around the house, anticipating and fulfilling their partner’s needs before they ever arise, they might not understand where the other is coming from.  Understanding what best meets your partner’s needs, and knowing what best meets your needs, can help make for a peaceful partnership.

Of course, sex toys can always help spice up a relationship, whether exploring mutual stimulation, vibrating rings for tongues or other body parts, remote controlled vibrating panties, or even exploring the 50 Shades of Grey style with a little bondage experiment with some restraints for the bed; kick it up a notch by exploring a few of the sex swings.  There’s ones that hang from the ceiling, ones that hang from a freestanding hanger, and ones that basically allows you to hang from your partner.  Of course, that means that you have to find a partner able to hoist your big’un up without pulling muscles.

You preferred some of the more kinky stuff, such as the gimp masks with the zipping mouth, bunny tail butt plugs, and the extreme sex toys that make people gasp, such as the thick chub that’s about as big around as the dilation of when a woman is giving birth.  Get a cuckold cage.  Put this rod down the urethra, clamp this metal cage around the scrotum and shaft, and if you get hard, it might hurt a bit.

Walk through the aisles of Jack and Jill’s Adult store, touching the whips, finding which of the fur ones is the softest, and loving the stitched design of the Betty Page paddles.  Take notice of the bondage rope, but you like the cool designs of the tape that sticks to itself.  There’s an awesome pink leather starter bondage collar that does not require a lock and is simply held in place by a leather strap that can be cleared by the simply swipe of a finger to release if things are getting to be too much: safe word time.

Maybe it’s time to explore some new sexual realms.  If so, Jack and Jill’s Adult Store is one place to go with an inquiring mind.  Bring a new spark into the bedroom, as there’s lot of Florida Jack and Jill locations to choose from, and they have a variety of sexual things that are sure to intrigue; don’t worry, if you’re scared, you don’t even have to leave your house: www.jackandjilladult.com.

If you find yourself having sexual concerns, dysfunctions, or have had past traumas, talk to a sex therapist like Susan Ruth Freedman.  She has plenty of activities and exercises to try, but she also has a caring ear and is very good at digging deep to find the root of a problem, so that it can be solved.  In addition to being a board certified clinical sexologist, she also does hypnotherapy, is a trauma specialist, a mental health counselor, and does couples, as well as individual, therapy: www.anewtomorrow.net.

Yes, Jay-Z is still on tour, so there's a still a chance to catch him: www.jayztour.com.  If you want to check out more about the artist that has sold more than 100 million albums: http://lifeandtimes.com/.  Jay:Z 4:44 dropped this summer, so check out that album and connect at https://www.facebook.com/JayZ.

Marisa Williams earned her Master’s in Writing at the Johns Hopkins University.  She is the author of more than 100 books and a licensed Realtor. For more by Marisa, visit www.lulu.com/spotlight/thorisaz.  

Screamageddon: last screams of the season

Joining the holiday mob mentality, you craved to get scared, even if Halloween had passed.  Scour for the last remaining haunted house in the drivable area, and you find Screamageddon.  People say it is Tampa, but is actually Dade City; still, it is not too far off the highway, so you found it easily enough.

You really have to drive outside of the bigger cities just to have enough room for a sprawling attraction.  The location was ideal, with forest surrounding, and in Florida, the Spanish moss hanging in the trees only adds to the creepy effect.  You never know what might be lurking – snakes, gators, psychos…

There’s only one way to know for sure, and that’s to be brave enough to step foot inside the gates.  The Fast Pass option is a handy way to skip around the mobs of people; tra-la-la your way to the front of the line, and be sure to grab one of those handy glow necklaces that means you opt into interactive scares.

There’s about half a dozen things to check out, each completely different from the other.  To start, warm up by playing zombie paintball.  Test your aim as you’re shaking scared to see how ready you are.

If there really is that zombie apocalypse that everyone keeps talking about, you need to make sure you are ready to fire under really being scared conditions.  There’s a survival store in Orlando specially designed for just such an event, and if it’s near International Drive, you know the threat must be real.  Thus, grab a gun, strive to keep it steady, and close one eye if you need to as you’re taking aim; fire!

Speaking of fire, you keep noticing fire balls randomly lighting up the sky.  You’re not sure what to make of it at first, so you vow that you must find out.  Enter the first haunted attraction to look for answers.

The first one did not have fire, but it was glowing.  Try to fit the 3D glasses over your regular glasses, and as the lights go out, only black light and spray paint lights the way.  The rest is a veil of blackness.

The neon colored paint seems almost nuclear, and you almost feel as if you’re in part of a Super Mario Brothers game, as there’s painted pipes that look like they lead towards a mission of some sort.  Reach out and touch them, just to make sure they are real, and they are not just a 3D figment of your imagination, but actual pipes.  With so many brightly painted glowing objects popping out in 3D, it’s hard to discern the real stuff from the fake sometimes, but you feel your way along the dark paths.

The spinning tunnel has always been one of your favorites, so when you enter the bridge, you stop, just to let your mind fully feel the effect.  It’s as if you’re tilting, that you’re the one spinning, instead of the room around you.  Grab hold, just to make sure that you do not tip over, as you feel yourself tilt a bit.

You can’t quite be sure if there’s someone lurking in the shadows or not.  Just when you think there is, it’s a dead end.  Get yourself oriented again.  Then someone jumps out and throws you off once more.

Adjacent to the 3D haunted house is a prison break.  Not afraid, you take the glowing necklace and place it on your head like a halo.  Guys cower behind you, ordering you to take the lead, and just when you’re telling them that you will, you’re ordered to go in by yourself, solo mission, straight into darkness.

Starting to feel uneasy, the only light you have is the glow of the necklace, which all the people hidden in the shadows can see, too.  A cornfed prisoner bleeding from his forehead rushes up to you, gets in your face, gets loud, demanding, “why did you break it?  Tell me, why did you break that, huh?”

When you don’t have an answer, he yanks you, commanding that you follow him, and another friend joins.  This one has dark rings around his eyes, blood stains on his clothes, looking more than pissed.  Now, there’s two of them badgering you, getting in your face, threatening and dragging you.

They take you to the hole.  You’re locked in a small, confined space, with only darkness around you.  You hear the screams of other people, and your heart races, wondering how long they will keep you captive.

Just when you’re really about to panic, someone opens the door and bellers at you, “get out!”  Following command, you zip down the dark corridor, sliming past old overflowing toilets in prison cells, taking the back way as you break out of the prison.  Your tunnel starts to shrink, and you have to bend down to make it into the next area, which is another small, dark space, and there is a guy waiting to scare you.

You can’t help but jump, and you try not to scream in his face.  He follows you, knowing he has gotten under your skin.  Just when you think he is gone, he tugs on your shirt, just to let you know he is there.

Try to shake the tail, but you feel someone’s hot breath on your neck.  Turn, and your nose to nose with another cornfed guy looking like he wants to devour you for dinner.  He doesn’t want to let you pass.

To get away from him, you enter another small, dark tunnel that requires you ducking down.  Looking behind, you see that he did not follow you.  Don’t attempt to sigh with relief, because you just felt someone’s hand firmly grip your forearm, and he growls, pulling on you, “come with me…”

He sits you down in a chair, and other prisoners appear from the darkness, surrounding you, circling around you like vultures waiting to tear open your flesh.  Some get in your face, others grab your shoulder, while others mumble comments that make your skin crawl, as the prison is all too real.

Break out of the prison by passing more gross toilets that make you want to vomit, and sneaking through more small, confined spaces.  Each character that approaches you is different, but you notice some creepers follow you longer than others, or appear again when you think that you’ve lost them.  The darkness is unnerving, but throwing in angry prisoners wanting revenge, and it’s a real good time.

When you break free from the prison, you need to get away, and the only moving option is the hayride.  Climb up the wooden staircase and hop aboard the tractor’s wagon, fluffing up a spot in the hay to sit.  Thankfully, you’d taken your allergy medicine earlier, but a sneeze escapes from you unexpectedly.

The tractor chugs along the bumpy trail, then stops unexpectedly.  Angry people storm out, riling up people on the hayride.  All of a sudden, a series of fireballs illuminate the sky, giving you the answer to your previous question of where the fire came from, and now you can feel it singeing your arm hair.

The tractor lurches forward, taking you to another area where a couple of hicks are mumbling about something to eat.  You’re not sure what they’re talking about, when all of a sudden, a massive gator lunges forward, snapping its jaws at you.  Scoot out of the way of the gator and of the blades from a combine that comes whirling from out of the blue, then jump when there’s more unexpected fire.

Pull up to a moonshine still and reminisce about that good ol’ West Virginia White Lightning.  Mention to a friend about wanting to take a hooker of that, and a good ol’ boy jumps out screaming at you not to even think about touching his moonshine.  Before you can react, there’s a moonshine explosion of fire.

It’s like being out in the Wild West, as you see bank robbers go in to rob a bank.  This only creates more chaos with a shootout, and yup, you guessed it: more fire.  Oh, try to not get sawed up by a chainsaw. 

At the final stop, hop onto the wide, wooden staircase, holding onto the handrails, and spill out onto the midway.  The smell of BBQ lures you in, along with other tasty delights.  Take a pitstop by one of the many fires in midway, gathering a group at the picnic tables, deciding which one to do next.

Next, it’s time to get infected.  Enter the lab and see a doctor pacing back and forth.  “It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” she repeats over and over; “we didn’t know that it was going to be like this.”

Step into the contaminated area.  There’s alien beings on the surgery tables, kicking as they’re being sawed into.  You can’t help but reach out to touch its slimy skin, and it sends shivers down your spine.

“Aliens are real,” you hear someone say, but you cannot make out who is speaking.  There’s darkness shrouding you.  Find your way into another operating room, and see gooey organs on display.

Distracted by the sights, you don’t notice the doctor approaching you from behind.  “We need you in surgery,” she ushers you by the arm and prepares you for operation.  Feel the saw blade vibrating your neck as the doctor attempts to slice into you, and you struggle to try to get free from the operation.

If you’re lucky enough to get out of there alive, good luck trying to find your way back to your friends.  They’re long gone, left you behind to fend for yourself.  Now, you’re on your own to find your way out.

There’s rows of white flapping sheets of plastic.  Screams fill the air, and people paw at your skin.  Just when you think you’ve found your way, you’re back at the beginning of where you just were a while ago.

Get away from the infected, and stroll over to the house.  Surely, in between, you will find your friends again.  The Dead House calls big groups of friends, so follow the dimly lit path to find who is inside waiting to have you for dinner – not for you to eat dinner, but for you to be the main course for dinner.

“Mmmm, you look delicious.” You hear a deep inhale.  You realize that you are being sniffed by people.

“Papa’s guna like you,” a slow, Southern drawl spouts.  Push your way past the creepers in one shack, and find yourself back on the dimly lit trail.  Twist around the path, and find another crusty love shack.

Figures from the shadows follow you, screaming when you think you’ve lost them, only to find that they’re still close behind, still sniffing at your hair and debating whether you should be sautéed or thrown into a stew.  Run if you want, but it does no good, because there’s only more kinfolk waiting.  Each one paws after you, trying to slice and dice you up with various objects, and you have to escape the killer kinfolk from the deep woods, as you only know that they have ill intentions for you.

Feel your heart thumping faster, threatening to beat out of your chest.  Just when your heartrate thinks about slowing down for a moment, there’s another scare around the corner, waiting to make you jump.  Adrenaline coursing through your veins, panic sets in, as does the fight or flight response within you.

The nice thing is that Screamageddon offers the Curse Hayride, Bedlam 3D, the Dead Woods, Blackpool Prison, and Infected Ground Zero, each being so different from each other.  Add in the Monster Midway with Zombie Paintball, and it’s an evening to gather the friends for some scares.  Being able to opt into the fun is an awesome chance to harken back to the old school haunted houses when people didn’t try if someone touched their arm; get taken prisoner, be held captive, and face some real fears in person.

For more information, visit https://www.screamageddon.com.  For more by Marisa, visit www.lulu.com/spotlight/thorisaz and www.twitter.com/booksnbling.