| Issue #31, October 27, 2006 |
Haunted Corn Mazes And More
The North Fork Has Plenty For Those That Are Looking To Scream
By Phyllis Lombardi
Hold my hand, will you? This is a frightening time of year on the North Fork. It’s not the chill in the air, though, or the dark descending early, that scares me so. I’m used to that. No, it’s something else – and it’s more intense with every autumn.
It’s those spooky signs about every half mile on Main Road from Riverhead to Orient. Ghosts! Goblins! Witches! What am I to do? Where am I to hide? And now this at Krupski’s Farm in Cutchogue. Haunted Corn Maze. Just the word maze alarms me. But haunted? That’s chilling.
Those TV-type psychologists say we gotta face out fears if we wish to overcome them. Get back on the horse, the bike, or whatever. That means only one thing. If I choose to live a fearless existence on the North Fork, I have to maneuver Haunted Corn Maze.
I asked my husband to accompany me. Generally he acquiesces even to my wildest ideas. Not this one. My children? Sorry, they had other plans (they always do).
So alone I ventured to Krupski’s. I selected a sunny afternoon, carried my cell phone and a walking stick. I felt a little foolish with that stick, I admit, but I might have to use it to beat back haunted North Fork cornstalks.
Cars lining Main Road near Krupski’s seemed normal enough. As did the folks heading to tall metal gates providing entrance to the maze. How bad could this be? Foolishly, I let my guard down. That’s when Body Man, machete raised in hand, greeted me. Now Body Man looked pretty frightening but I was up to my job as a ghoul-buster. Body Man is none other than Ryan Beodeker, a Riverhead High School student who finally agreed to let me pass, his machete lowered.
And pass I did, quickly, Through rows of corn so high they seemed to brush the autumn sky. Watch it. There’s Sinister Scarecrow, face draped in black cloth. Through that cloth I learn he’s Luke Sisson, a tenth-grader at Mattituck High School. Luke says kids scream when they see him. Some older women do, too.
What’s this? What’s this next horror chasing us around the maze? Maybe it’s not a good idea to be running. If I stand still, pretend I’m not afraid, perhaps it will go away. No! It’s coming closer. I’ll ask who he is, act friendly. The horror, it turns out, is Ryan Pendzick, a sophomore at Riverhead High School. Ryan plans an acting career and does a mighty effective job in the haunted corn maze. See Ryan in Grease on the Riverhead High School stage in December.
Over there I spy some fellow maze-travelers. Actually I heard the commotion. Brooklyn second-grader Lucinda Royte, with mom and grandparents, was screaming. Boy, was she screaming. I asked if I could travel with the group. Just in case they were scared, you know. Grandma was a funny lady, insisting that Grandpa was the scariest sight she’d ever seen.
Around the corner? A dead end. Turn back and run smack into Big Evil – later I learn he’s Dan Yaiullo, from Riverhead High School. Please, Big Evil, how do I get out of here? Through the Graveyard Garden is the beast’s response.
There’s no turning back. Up ahead the Graveyard Garden looks quiet. If I want to get home for dinner, indeed if I want to get home at all, I have to more forward. Then I see him. Some kind of beard on his face. A pitchfork in hand. The apparition gestured to the ground and my eyes left his face and looked down. Rows of skulls, white and grey, in various stages of decay. Hands reaching up from the earth in another row. And clusters of ears in a row of their own., On closer look I realized the skulls, the hands, the ears, were quite possibly plastic. But what if they weren’t? Apparition, let me pass.
He nodded, then spoke. His voice kind, even reassuring. Follow the This Way Out sign around the corner!
The apparition had a name. Mark Sisson, father of Sinister Scarecrow Luke. The Sissons live in Mattituck. Be careful when you’re in that town.
Be careful. Yes. That’s the way out of any maze, I guess. Haunted or not. And so I returned to Main Road, proud for not having to call for help on my cell phone. But I’d lost my walking stick. It must have fallen from my trembling fingers.
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