Sentinel Article
Skullteacher of the year
By Rebecca Swain Vadnie | Sentinel Staff Writer
Posted October 4, 2002
How about a scary pre-Halloween story, boys and girls?
This narrative is about one reporter's meeting with the Caretaker, this year's creepy master of "scare-a-monies" for Universal's annual Halloween Horror Nights, opening tonight at Islands of Adventure.
As the head ghoulie, the Caretaker rules over a dark world of torture chambers, vicious villains, childhood fears and frightening genetic experiments gone horribly wrong. It's a Halloween Horror Nights to remember, thanks to the Universal creative team, which has transformed Islands of Adventure into five Islands of Fear, each with themed haunted houses and mazes that prey on fears plucked straight from childhood nightmares.
Of course, the Caretaker knows what those nightmares are -- don't ask how, he just does.
The reporter anxiously waits for him in the dimly lit parlor of the Screamhouse, a burned-out mortuary just outside of Boo-ville. Although it's a warm and sunny day outside, inside it's chilly and there is a faintly acrid smell in the stagnant air. Dead flowers fill every corner of the room, and there is heavy charring on the Victorian-style wallpaper, signs of the building's past fate at the hands of angry villagers.
Without warning, the Caretaker floats into the room, tall and graceful in a black undertaker's suit.
He takes his dingy black top hat off and sets a black doctor's bag on the seat next to her, then relaxes his frame into a chair. Calm and collected, he is seemingly unaware of the burnt corpse behind him or the imposing black coffin that she can't seem to take her eyes off.
"It's all about fears," he murmurs in a thoughtful way, when asked about this year's scream-fest. "It's about opportunities. . . ."
What kind of opportunities? she asks.
He stares at her with his white pin-point eyes and says nothing. She should know already: opportunities to scare the daylights out of unsuspecting park guests with creepy sights worthy of any gory slasher flick.
So, how did a doctor come to be caretaker over a mortuary -- not to mention Universal's land of horrors?
He doesn't answer. Suddenly, he gets up from his seat.
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you," he says softly and nudges the red velvet chair a couple of inches closer.
"You know, with surgery sometimes things go as planned. But with taxidermy, you always get your loved ones back." He smiles wistfully.
"I suppose there's always an upside to everything," she replies.
"We're a lot alike, you know," he says, enjoying her squeamish reaction.
He abruptly changes the subject. "What were you afraid of as a child? The dark?"
Huh? Well, yes. But this is her interview, and she's supposed to be asking the questions . . . right?
"What are you afraid of?" the reporter retorts, trying her best to be professional.
"Small spaces," he says, again scooting his chair in closer to hers. Their knees are almost touching, and he reaches out to touch her hand.
"And why is that?"
He pauses and gives a knowing smile. "You lose a certain amount of freedom in a small space."
Suddenly, the small parlor feels even smaller, the big black coffin a little bigger. His pinpoint eyes don't waver from hers.
"How do you plan on scaring the Halloween Horror Night veterans, the ones who have seen it all?" This question will trip him up for sure, spoil his assured demeanor, she thinks.
He laughs . . . loudly.
"They're the easiest to scare! They have an idea of what they're coming to. They relax, until the pain and the fear come to a head -- and then there I am."
This is clearly not going to be an average Halloween Horror Nights, even for scream veterans: The Caretaker is just the ringmaster among a park of uncontrollable ghosts and goblins, bent on scaring even the steeliest of Horror Night visitors.
"There is a message," the Caretaker says before he lets the reporter leave.
Yes?
"It's all right to come to Islands of Fear."
"It is?" she replies.
He nods. "Just make sure your insurance is paid up."
Rebecca Swain Vadnie can be reached by e-mail, rswain@orlandosentinel.com, or by phone, 407-420-5677.
Copyright © 2002, Orlando Sentinel
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