Deadmonton House puts Halloween into overdrive

Warning: Enter Deadmonton House at your own risk. You are about to go to hell, and we ain't jokin'.

Downtown's old Paramount Theatre has been converted into a house of horror for all who dare to enter.

Once you pay the $20 to $40 entry fee, depending on the night and if you buy a speed pass or not, the stuff really hits the fan — it's guts, ghouls and gore. And lest we forget the screams and the blood — oh, the blood, everywhere.

Deadmonton House is open during the Halloween season and slightly beyond it — it closes its doors Friday, Nov. 13, a fitting, frightening finale.

No one inside of Deadmonton House is as they seem. Obvious are the scary props and staff wearing costumes. Unexpected is the detail that has gone into the design of this little shop of horrors.

Tiny bits of terror inspire creator

For Ryan Kozar, the maestro behind the terror, this is a labour of love. He and his team have left no area unbloodied.

"It's just all up in my head. I try to think of what's scary and then try to recreate it. I pick ideas from everywhere, everyone, and I just go from there," he said.

Once inside Deadmonton House there is a long wait. Thankfully, that time is filled with entertainment. Props populate the gory candy counter. An eviscerated zombie eats popcorn, and a mommy creeps about, scaring unsuspecting victims as she sneaks up behind them. Screams abound.

A zombie candy girl offers creepy-crawly treats. All edible, I think.

Once the first group is ready, guests are led into a dark hallway lit only by flashlights held by scary ushers. You don't want to ask these ushers to hold your arm -- they might just tear it off and give it to you.

What we have entered is a creepy, cold theatre, dark, dank and downright creepy. A hostess greets us, apologizes for the conditions and a horror film begins.

Viewers are given a back story of the Williams clan, a family terrorized by psychopaths from another world in 1959.

The movie is an intense journey of chasing, horror and blood. It ends abruptly as the main character Lily is about to get her eyes gouged out by a possessed scarecrow.

Our hostess returns, apologizes for the sudden, psychotic ending, and we are ushered upstairs where we wait. And wait. And wait.

Slowly, the crowd is divided into groups of four to six, and we begin our descent into hell.

I am alone. This is dumb, really dumb.

Our usher puts me with two other women, Monica and Shannon, soon to be my close, personal friends, and we are on our way.

We start in the projection booth. Every inch of our journey from this point on will be measured in screams and goose bumps.

Our eyes suffer the most. Inanimate objects are bad enough -- even worse are actors determined to scare us to death. And they do.

I scream like a woman possessed within the first few steps. My partners are a bit braver than me; Monica in particular is often willing to go first. Thank goodness.

We creep through hallways, take sharp turns and gingerly walk through dimly lit corridors. Every room has a theme, telling a story about the terrifying demise of the Williams family.

Laughter and screams your best buddies

I won't give anything away, but you will scream and jump, slamming into all kinds of horrific fun. I spend as much time laughing as I do screaming. And sweat buckets.

Others do not enjoy the journey as much as I do. Ryan tells me at least 20 people have chickened out. He says one person peed their pants. I believe it.

The zombie candy girl tells me the tale of a woman who passed out cold after a shocking encounter.

Another man, she says, ran frantically, hitting wall after wall, and was removed from the premises.

Understand this is not a haunted house for kids.

But if you want a terrifyingly crazy-fun adult night out, Deadmonton House fits the bill, and the thrill.

Just make sure you wear track cleats so you can get away from the maniac wielding a chain saw.