| In the foreground hundreds
of half transparent shrouded spirits, shimmering in the night, rise out of
the ground far below and fly into the night air in front of the balcony,
finally disappearing into thin air before the guests' eyes!
The buggies tilt backwards and slowly begin to descend a steep hill. It is a staircase that leads from the roof to the ground level. To both sides errie trees lean in towards the buggies, uncomfortably close, their gnarled branches looking a bit too much like clawed hands reaching for the buggies menacingy.
From the graveyard far below guests hear many many individual voices singing, their cacophony rising and falling in harmony to create one eerily distinguishable song...
When the crypt doors
creak and the tombstones quake
Now don't close your eyes
and don't try to hide
As the moon climbs high
'ore the dead oak tree
When you hear the knell
of a requiem bell
The buggies reach the dirt ground. The grass is dead and the plants have grown wild. The buggies are just outside the massive entrance gate to the house's private cemetery.
Nearby a man stands, quivering with fear. He is the only mortal in the attraction, the mansion's poor old caretaker. His knees knock together in fright and a railroad lantern hangs from one hand. His head jerks towards the sound of a baying hound every time the horrific noise permeates the air. Nearby stands his starving dog, who sniffs the air cautiously. They both know something horrible awaits the guests.
Inside the cemetery stand five figures right out of a revolutionary painting. They appear to be a colonial band, but perhaps not quite, for the song they are playing is indeed very jazzy. There is a man with a flute who is emerging from within his tomb, sitting up inside it, playing his instrument gleefully. Behind him stands a man with a bone clutched in both hands. He uses the overturned lid of the flutist's tomb as a drum and taps out the beat. Nearby, below two owls resting on a branch, stand a harpist, trumpeter, and bagpipist.
Moving past these figures guests view five cats sitting atop a tomb. They yowl and hiss to the beat along with the band. Next to them, on a hill, stands the skeleton of a wolf, howling into the night air.
Nearby a king and queen have balanced a board across a tombstone, creating a makeshift teeter-totter. They glide up and down gleefully as their daughter, a medieval princess, sits on a swing, flying through the foggy night air, sipping tea.
In various places throughout the cemetery ghouls and goblins will sporadically leap from behind their graves, playfully startling the guests to this ectoplasmic jamboree.
Guests descend a slight incline. To both sides guests see tombstones behind pushed up and down, left and right, being rocked by skeletal fingers clutching them far below. Crypt doors bulge outward from the strain of unseen corpses inside. Guests hear five voices singing from behind them...
Guests move to the shallowest portion of the cemetery. Directly in front of them are five impressive monuments, five crumbling marble busts on tall pedestals. Each bust has come to ghostly life, singing and looking around, each one participating in a barbershop quintet.
The lead singer's bust has broken, the head resting nearby at a haphazard angle.
Farther along, among the monuments, a table as been set up. A cheerful tablecloth sits atop the table and a number of flickering candles sit atop the tablecloth. There is a bottle of wine. To either side of the table a British man and woman sit, toasting wine to each other and singing along with the busts in their heavy British accents.
Nearby is a hearse, many decades old, the wheels made unworkable by a puddle of mud. A number of prim and proper Victorian-era ghosts have gathered around it. There is a coachman talking to a duchess sitting atop the hearse sipping tea. Nearby a ghoulishly small man sits up in a coffin spilled out the back of the hearse and talks to another ghost sitting before a crypt. They all drink tea, and near the foot of the hearse a teakettle is perched in midair, tea flowing from it into a teacup and saucer endlessly. they sing as well.
In the front of the scene a skeletal hand emerges from it's crypt holding a teacup. Behind the hearse ghostly looking ghosts with bulging eyes ride bicycles on the hill through the darkness, never stopping.
Around the corner is a mummy. The mummy has just recently arisen from it's tomb and sits up, holding a teacup in one hand, stirring the tea with the other. He is looking at an ancient looking ghost, an old man with a bald head, long beard, and cane. The old man holds a hearing horn in one hand.
The mummy appears to be singing to the man, but the old man can't hear him at all! Nearby a dog sniffs the sarcophagus, curious.
Guests have reached the very back of the graveyard. gloomy crypts are to all sides. Atop a flight of stone steps stand two ghosts dressed in theatrical Viking clothing. it is a fat woman and a thin man, both embracing, wailing to the sky high above to the now familiar tune Grim Grinning Ghosts.
Nearby a crypt is open and a shrouded specter appears inside the crypt.
To the guest's right hand side stand three ghosts on a raised walkway. There is a large fat executioner. The executioner holds a key on a ring in one hand and has a slender axe in the other. To the right of the executioner stands a medieval knight. The knight has no head, he holds his beheaded head in his outstretched arm, still singing away! To the left of the executioner stands a goblin-like figure, small and very old, a prisoner with a hooked nose and a long white beard, shackled at the hands and the feet with a ball and chain. All three sing along in harmony, in death.
Guests see ahead a huge crypt, the largest in the cemetery, looming up ahead, it's gates open and unlocked, ready to permit the guests access to it's dank interior. The raven is once again atop the crypt, cawing at visitors.
Next to this massive burial hall stands a smaller, more modest tomb. The entrance to the tomb has been bricked up, but a skeletal arm dangles from an opening, holding a trowel, attempting to reach mortar and bricks on a nearby table.