The Georgetown Morgue experience began way before we entered the haunted house. The line for the attraction stretched down the block. Actors dressed as clowns, zombies, and grotesque cleaver-wielding men made their way along the line, sneaking up on unassuming couples and teenagers engrossed in their phones. The screams reverberated off the warehouses that lined the otherwise vacant area.

For just $9, anyone could upgrade their tickets to VIP status and bypass the line. Some may have thought this would save them from the terrifying actors prowling the grounds, but the real horror show was waiting inside the glowing red doors.

An ominous "good luck" from a man dressed in an old-timey conductor's uniform was the last phrase I heard before stepping inside.

Immediately, the environment changed. Fog and smoke filled the floor, and I was unable to see my shoes. An eerie melody played somewhere in the background, but it was hard to hear over the blood rushing to my ears. My friends and I clung to each other, hoping to stick together despite whatever cursed encounters may lie ahead.

Not long into the maze, the jump-scares started. We'd make it around a corner, unsure if the slouched figure before us was alive and waiting to get us or victim of some other creature. As soon as we passed the body and relief started to wash over us, a scream would come up from behind, eliciting a rush of adrenaline.

Behind us, monstrous encounters constantly barraged poor Zoe. Her grip on my hand tightened, yanking the rest of us to a halt whenever something sprang to life. She pulled us into the nightmare that was stalking her from behind, forcing us all to experience it with her.

We walked through classic rooms of blood and gore. At one point, I ran right into a large body hanging from the ceiling. I could feel the sick rise from my squeamish tummy, but a determination to make it out alive and stay with my friends kept pushing me forward.

What sets Georgetown Morgue apart from other haunted-house attractions is how the maze can transport you to all the locations your deepest fears reside. At first, we were in a house, then a meat locker, then a bunker. What truly terrified me, though, was when we entered a carnival funhouse.

The lights began to strobe. We found ourselves stuck in a hall of mirrors, reminiscent of the movie Us. The bright fluorescent lights went out, and we could see nothing ahead. We walked forward nonetheless, at which point the lights suddenly flashed on, only to reveal a person standing before us! I shrieked at the sight of such a ghastly image — a tiny monster with messy blonde hair in front of their face, coated in a cold sweat.

After a moment, I realized I was staring at my reflection in a mirror! I began to laugh with relief. The relief was short-lived, however. Slowly, a bloody clown emerged from the shadows behind my figure in the mirror. We ran again, desperately trying to escape his clutches, only to find ourselves surrounded, yet again, by mirrors.

It was a dead end. Izabel tried to lead us back the way we came but only dragged us into another corner. The clown descended upon us, his red face twisted into a demented smile.

"Go that way," he whispered. Why we listened to Pennywise, I will never know. But his direction helped us to escape the mirrors.

We took a moment to breathe once we had made it out of the not-so-fun house. We were now standing in what looked to be the Black Lagoon. Green swamp water ran under our feet, and the fog thickened. Even the air had a swampy smell to it. Holding hands, we trudged forward through swampland so thick I couldn't see my waist below me.

We had been transported into an outdoor scene somehow — the only logical explanation seemed to be magic. I wondered if we had sold our souls to the devil upon entrance? $9 would be a fair price for mine.

As thoughts swirled in my head about bargaining for my soul back, a swamp monster slowly crept up on our small party. She screamed at us, and we took off in a sprint, hoping to find a way out. The maze took a sharp turn, and my friends rounded the corner. I tried to follow but found I was stuck. My sweater had snagged on a limb. I tried to scream louder, but fear clenched my throat shut, strangling any noise that tried to escape. The swamp women came closer, and I fell to the floor, closing my eyes and bracing myself for death.

This was it. I was so close to the end, but here was where I would die.

"Come on!" Izabel yelled, tugging harder at my arm.

"Go on without me!" I yelled dramatically.

She rolled her eyes and came back. Just as the swamp witch was reaching for my limp body, Izabel unsnagged my sweater and pulled me up to my feet. She dragged my jelly arms around the corner and through the final door.

The sweet night air cooled our faces. I looked up to see the full moon shining above our heads. We had made it out. All three of us began to laugh. Nothing seemed scary once we were out in the open. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, but I felt a sense of accomplishment. We had survived.

We went to Georgetown Morgue expecting a good scare, but what we got was so much more. The attention to detail, the commitment of the actors, and the chill in the air (which I can credit only to Satan himself) took us to another world. For twenty minutes, I was in a land of nightmares, reliant only on my friends to get us out.