Experiencing the horror of Eastern State Penitentiary

Tall, foreboding walls hovered over hundreds of “victims” standing in line outside of Eastern State Penitentiary on a Friday night in early October.

Zombies on stilts and a crazed man in a blood-stained convict uniform wielding an uncannily realistic axe, gave people in line a preview of what was to come.

We were there for “Terror Behind the Walls,” the historic Philadelphia prison’s popular haunted attraction. According to the “Assumption of Risk and Release from Liability” form we had to sign before entering, we would all be victims that night.

The architect behind the renowned penitentiary was John Haviland, who is still regarded as one of the most famous and internationally influential prison architects of all time. Eastern State Penitentiary was completed in 1829. It took a total of eight years to construct the six magnificently detailed branches that would later house notorious criminals such as Al Capone. It was shut down and abandoned in 1971.

Now, the penitentiary is open for tours throughout the year and features one of the most popular haunted attractions on the East Coast.

I have never been one to shy away from horror movies and gore. In fact, I enjoy them. After standing in line and being blitzed by zombies, ghouls, and some alien type thing, I foolishly put any trepidations I may have had to rest.

I entered the building with a throng of people of all ages. We were immediately herded into a small confined room. There, a young woman informed us that she would be the last human we would encounter for the entirety of the night.

Suddenly, an anemic, green-haired fellow with glowing cat eyes lunged at the crowd. He moved in a gangly fashion, like something straight out of “The Exorcist.” However, his voice differed from his ghastly appearance. While his cackle sounded convincing at first, the more the creature opened his blood-covered mouth, the more I heard a trained actor. It’s a sound like none other: The exaggerated emphasis on the ending of every word.

Now that I knew him as an actor, I found the green-haired man comforting. His Oscar-award-winning performance was far less troublesome to me than the claustrophobia starting to set in. Unlike others who cowered from the mere sight of him, I found myself recoiling from the small room.

“You must choose between a more interactive experience or a less, shall we say, life-threatening one,” said the green-haired man.

The groups were split into two lines where zombie nurses asked if anyone wanted a neon pink glow-stick necklace. This necklace acted as a marker in the darkness for the actors to know whether a person wanted the interactive experience: that is, to be touched. For an instant I felt my heart race, yet I felt compelled to get the full “interactive experience” for the sake of the story and my dignity. I mustered up all the courage I could, and reluctantly took a necklace.

The haunted house was filled with convicts, touchy zombies, skeletons bathing in bubbling blood, and real chainsaws thrust at us. A disturbed doctor, who separated my friends and me from the rest of the group, locked us in a small room and proceeded to jab a large needle toward our throats.

After I survived the 45-minute tour with minimal emotional scarring, I tried to befriend some of the actors outside the penitentiary by trying to make them break character and laugh. I asked who they thought should win the presidential election. Then I preceded to ask if we should all just flee the country and move to Canada. They burst out laughing.

The next thing I knew, five of my zombie “friends” had swarmed me and began dragging me towards the dungeon where only a lucky few visitors are taken. As a reflex, I went limp, dropped to the ground, and tore off the glow stick. They couldn’t help but laugh as I played dead.

Eventually, they coaxed me into entering the pitch black dungeon. Due to a promise I made to my newfound zombie friends, I cannot share the grizzly and heart-stopping details of what followed.

It’s not cheap to experience Terror Behind the Walls for yourself, although it’s definitely a worthwhile thrill. I chose to order my ticket online because I was under the impression that I would only have to pay $19 as advertised, opposed to $25 at the door. However, there was a service fee of $4.50, saving me a grand total of $1.50.

All in all, it was money well spent for a suspenseful journey through Eastern State Penitentiary’s “Terror Behind the Walls.”