Face it — we’re too old for trick-or-treating. But there are other options around the area. Daily Arts sent three editors to explore the unknown in three different haunts less than an hour outside Ann Arbor.

The Haunted Winery
31505 Grand River, Farmington
Oct. 24-26, 30-31; Nov. 1
$10

Have you ever wanted to see an exhausted Freddy Krueger kick back with a bottle of grain alcohol? Well, look no further than the Haunted Winery in Farmington. Here, no ghoul is too half-assed; no shock is too predictable; no prop is too common; and no performer is too method to take a break and swig on what appeared to be some hard, child tantrum-eliminating liquor.

Yeah, this place is kind of crappy, and it highlights generic examples of nearby haunted houses. Obviously run and operated by locals, this is bargain-basement Halloween. Imagine four twenty-something Michigan students looking for a few cheap thrills, only to be harassed in and out of a chintzy maze.

Throughout 15 to 20 chambers, teens (likely emo kids) jump out of corners in Michael Myers and Jason masks, with plenty of "hoos” and "haas" to spare. When we didn't react, we were told, "you suck." In one room, our lack of response merited a claim from one creeper that we should "hump each other." Little bastard.

OK, it was kind of funny.

At the end, the biggest shock was that we were out in ten minutes and quickly propositioned with coupons to play laser tag by a guy who may or may not have been with the show. He was just that goth. But it was the drinking Freddy near the end that made this one worthwhile.

It's not the operator's fault this thing was so hokey. It just paled in comparison to so many other elaborate productions out there. Still, between the garage sale below the house, the backyard vibes and the general cornball nature of the whole experience, it was still kind of fun. Halloween's all about poor taste, so this was no exception.

Now if only it had actual wine.

—Blake Goble

Terror in Townsend Forest
4770 Waterford Road, Clarkston
Oct. 24-25, 31; Nov. 1
$10

This was not how I wanted to spend my Saturday night. Then again, this was not how I wanted to spend any night — walking through a dark forest with people in rubber masks jumping out at me from the bushes. But hey, Halloween was a couple weeks away, and what’s the season without a few kitschy thrills, right?

The Haunted Forest is clearly a community event. People come in droves, even though the place is located off a seemingly abandoned back road. Locals sold t-shirts and “monster meals” (a hot dog and potato chips) in the small clearing where we waited our turn. In the middle of the clearing, a small bonfire burned brightly. As groups were called one by one and led, like cattle, into the darkness, a clown named Slappy “entertained” us with a fake severed head. Needless to say, by the time our group’s number was called, we were ready to take our chances in the woods.

Our walk through the forest started quaintly enough. In fact, it was exactly what anyone would expect — lots of flashing lights, ghosts on strings and people in masks jumping out of the shadows. But as we ventured deeper and deeper into the forest, things began to get, well, creepier. Some of the “monsters” became genuinely bothersome. One “goblin” gave me goosebumps. I even jumped a few times.

Maybe it was just the atmosphere of the whole place or the full moon working its magic, but by the time we stepped out of the darkened maze, passed the cackling witches and nearly ran head first into a chainsaw-wielding clown, I was genuinely freaked out.

Alas, we made it out alive. Walking to the car, I turned back to get one last glance at the eponymous forest. Instead, my eyes zeroed in on Slappy the Clown, holding the dangling, severed head, still smiling cheerfully.

Now that was scary.

—Brandon Conradis

Erebus
18 S.