Haunted House, Scary Clowns & Unbreakable Friendship
When people think of fall, it’s all pumpkin spice, football, apple orchards, and falling leaves. For me, it’s haunted houses—and my friend Dennis.
I first met Dennis in 2010. At that time, Dennis was an owner of a local haunted house. My then-partner had a mutual friend with Dennis, and they all started helping with some of the “back of house” technical things. Seeing the behind-the-scenes piqued my interest quite a lot, so I jumped in to help as well, eventually working my way up to entirely running the back of house during show nights.
Dennis and I became incredible friends—so fast. An instant, unbreakable bond. “The Haunt” became our lives. For four years, it was Halloween conventions in the spring, full build-outs all summer into fall, and adding final décor touches—literally—moments before the doors opened. We all played our parts. Dennis’s part was my favorite: the terrifying black-and-white clown in a spiked top hat. He made scaring people an art form.
It was, quite literally, one of the best chapters of my life because of him. Our “Haunt Family” made lifelong memories and connections.
On the evening of June 12, 2015, I got a call at work from a Haunt Family member saying Dennis was in the hospital and it was “bad.” No details. His family had asked for privacy. I left work immediately and called my partner. He told me to come home, but I couldn’t. The hospital was closer than home, and I had to be as near to Dennis as possible. We went anyway. He was family.
By the time we arrived, Dennis had passed away. Whether it was stress, diet, smoking, or all of the above—his heart had stopped. He was gone. And just like that, my world changed forever.
Two months later, I quit my corporate job and enrolled in esthetics school full-time. I had discovered my passion for makeup as part of my many roles at the haunted house—thanks to Dennis. I’ve been doing it professionally ever since. About a year later, I got this tattoo in his honor.
It’s hard to believe this June marks 10 years without him.