The most sensational experience in the region with over 7,000 sqft of terror!
2017 marks the 5th year of The Missoula Haunted House. Roothead Studios started producing Haunted Houses in 2010. At first the Haunted Houses were small, private events. Everyone who attended had great reviews. People consistently said that it was “the best event I attended during Halloween.” That motivated Roothead Studios to scale up production and bring Missoula a Halloween event like none other. We at Roothead studios are excited to bring you this year's Halloween theme, The Reaping.
This Years Story:
On an old dusty highway, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, there is a tiny motel. The type of place where you might imagine honeymooners from the 1950's would stop to refuel and refresh themselves on their way to their actual destination. The rest of the world moved on to bigger and better things, bigger and faster Highways, but the motel stayed as it was, unchanged. Now it sits on the side of the old dusty road waiting like a spider in a hidden corner of its web. A little less than a mile from the motel is a blind curve with thick trees on either side and grass growing through the cracks in the asphalt. The perfect place to lay a trap. The pothole is only four inches deep at most and two feet wide but somehow it always gets the job done. This motel, like any other trap, is easy to get caught in but next to impossible to escape.
A friendly enough face welcomes the motel's new guests with a twisted smile. "How many?" the front desk attendant asks but what she is really thinking is "just the right amount..."
From the back windows of the motel rooms the guests can see a beautiful orchard and corn field, surprisingly green and lush for this time of year especially for this part of the country. After the new arrivals eat dinner, complimentary for poor wayward travelers of course, a heavy feeling overcomes each one almost immediately. The thick sound of limp bodies hitting the wood floor briefly fills the old motel. The front desk clerk smiles at her victims and says "just the right amount."
The fog in your mind begins to lift. The first thing you notice is the sound of something dripping coming from across the room. "Could it be water from a leaky pipe?" You realize that your hands and feet are tied. "Its sounds thicker than water." You dare to open your eyes but are terrified of what you might see. The room is cold and the walls are a light, grey color. Leaning back in your chair, you try to loosen the bonds around your wrists. Your head bumps into something. Panic sends a violent wave down your spine, every hair on the back of your neck stands at attention, and your heart feels as though it will rip your chest apart if it beats any faster. Your friend hangs upside down beside you, lifeless. All of his blood drained into a large steel basin. There are strange symbols carved into his skin. A vice like grip wrenches down on the back of your neck. The hand throws you to the ground effortlessly. As you are being drug through the walk-in cooler you can see what must be dozens of bodies wrapped in plastic hanging upside down.
Now gravel digs its way into your back – you are in the orchard you saw from the back window in your motel room. More symbols, more death, bodies and bones litter the path through the orchard. You kick and scream, anything to get free, but it is no use. Strange inhuman noises fill the air outside a dilapidated church. More strange symbols. The flickering light of fire can be seen piercing through the cracks of the church. The inhuman sounds grow louder. It sounds like chanting. You can hear drums but they sound too distant to be coming from the church. Tears stream down your face as you plead with your captor to let you go. The church is full. Its congregation is something out of a nightmare. They hardly seem to notice you, their attention is fixed on another of your friends. They are tied like you, also begging and pleading. Your friend is on some kind of alter with what looks like the bones of a massive demon at the other end. Suddenly she starts to slide toward the demon's bones. Your friend notices you and screams for your help. You can do nothing. The chanting grows louder. The drums grow louder. Your friend's screams grow louder. As this cacophony reaches its climax light from the back corner of the church grows. The silhouette of an inhuman figure casts a long shadow on the floor of the church. The congregation is exuberant. In the last moments your friend stops screaming and simply stares at you as her body slips inside the rib cage of the demon's bones at the end of the alter. Everything goes quiet except for the distant sounds of drums. What is that silhouetted in the orange light? What are those symbols? What are those bones at the end of the alter? Your thoughts are interrupted by what appears to be the leader of the congregation.
"The Sacrifice of the few for the benefit of the many."
The congregation, in perfect unison, claps once.
"We pour the lifeblood on our fields to secure a bountiful yield." Clap. "We do this as our master commands." Clap, clap, clap, clap.
The congregation claps in rhythm with the distant drums. Louder, louder, louder. You are lifted into the air and placed on the alter. The smell of blood is so overwhelming that you can taste it – cold, metallic. The stench of the rotten, demon bones makes you sick. You begin to slide toward them. You struggle against your bonds thrashing wildly on the alter. The demon bones grow closer and closer. Your feet are about to disappear inside them. You scan the audience looking anywhere for one last hope. None can be found. A sharp and excruciating, snapping sensation radiates from your feet as they enter the demons rib cage. One last desperate look into the congregation. There amongst them is the front desk attendant. Through the blistering pain you see her smile and say, "Just the right amount."