My Favorite Monster

Let me tell you about my favorite monster.

I first saw it in 2022. It was in the warren of hallways backstage at Dark Hour Haunted House in Plano, TX. I was fully kitted out as the heretical puritan turned witch, Annabelle Noire, heading for the green room to hydrate and relax before a long night of scaring. And then, I saw it. The face of a crow carved from wood-shadow, empty eyes and a cloak darkness, seven feet tall (eight including the antlers) and looming over everyone as it made its way down the corridor. My. New. Favorite. Monster.

I ran to it as quickly as I could in my full, swishing skirt. “I need a picture with you,” I said. My fellow actor obliged and together we were scary and glorious for a brief fleeting moment captured on camera.

But that was only the beginning. After a thrilling night of chasing people around the haunt I went home and slept the sound sleep of the physically exhausted and emotionally fulfilled. I dreamed. It was a nightmare. The eldritch horror I had taken a gleeful picture with only hours earlier was in my backyard, scraping at the window and wanting to be let in. Suffocating dread filled the dream-version of myself. An absolute terror struck at the knowledge of what would happen if it did make its way inside.

I woke the next day, delighted by this terrifying conjuration of my subconscious. I was lucky enough to be working at the haunt again that night. Once I arrived, I sought out the creator of the mask that had haunted my dreams and burrowed its way into my heart. I told him of my nightmare and thanked him for making such a wonderful monster. I hoped he would make more creatures in the future and he assured me there was plenty more where that came from. (There always is, isn’t there?)

Like all Octobers, this one ended and with it haunting season. I moved away, across state lines, and knew that I wouldn’t encounter the horned crow in the back hallways of the haunt again, but I would always remember it and my nightmare fondly.

Little did I know fate would smile upon me two years later. Visiting relatives in Texas I found I had a little time on my hands that Saturday night. I immediately thought of my old haunt. The season was right. The doors to Dark Hour were open to the public. I could go as a guest and see the place where I had once felt so completely at home again. Of course, I went. Then, as I walked across the parking lot toward the front doors there it was: My Favorite Monster. My heart soared. It was here! It was right here! What was only a treasured memory and an old photograph was right in front of me, looming over a group of people once more, just the same as the first time I’d seen it.

I ran to it like a child coming down the stairs on Christmas morning. I wanted to take a picture with it again, but this one would not be the same as the first. This one would be full of joy. It was our reunion, my favorite monster and I.

As I approached it for my turn at a photograph, I beamed. “You! You’re my favorite monster!” I told the crow. The actor inside, of course, had no idea what I was on about, but it didn’t matter. I was so glad to see that haunting mask again. After, I flew through the entrance of the haunted house and screamed and laughed and came out the other side flushed with excitement and elation. My favorite monster was still there, working the crowd as lines began to form, and I was able to bid it farewell before leaving. It was with a lightness that I left the creature this time. It would always be in my heart and maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to see it again.

Some day.