Main Street Cemetery

10/05/2025

09/25/2025

The night was still, but Cary felt wrong. The air clung heavy, like it was waiting. Down Main Street, fog rolled low and thick, curling around lampposts and spilling across the cobblestones until the cemetery gates vanished behind a wall of gray. The townsfolk said no one should be near there after dark—but something had crossed the threshold that night.

The Witch had returned.

Her figure appeared first as a silhouette, tall and bent beneath her crooked hat. She carried no lantern, yet the mist itself seemed to glow faintly where she walked, casting shadows that writhed like living things. Each step she took sent a tremor through the iron gates, until they creaked open without a touch, groaning like old bones.

Inside the cemetery, the air burned cold. Sparks danced unseen in the dark, flecks of green and violet drifting like fireflies. The smell of earth and rot rose stronger, as though the ground itself knew what was coming. She raised her hands, fingers long and clawed, and traced signs into the air.

The magic hummed, low at first, then deeper—a vibration that rolled through stone and marrow alike. Gravestones shook. The earth cracked. A hollow rumble rose beneath the soil, like thunder sealed underground. Then came the sound—awful, scraping, rattling—as the first skeleton clawed free of the dirt.
One by one, they followed. Empty sockets burned faintly, their jaws working open as if whispering secrets no living ear should hear. The Witch’s laughter slid through the mist, high and sharp, curling around the dead as she called them to her side.

And then—the ground split wide. A circle of black light swirled open at her feet, the portal tearing at the night itself. The rumble grew into a roar as the air bent and shuddered, pulling leaves, branches, even gravestones toward its maw. From its depths came the echo of something vast—chains breaking, a crown of bone rising, the promise of a King long buried.

The mist thickened, swallowing the cemetery whole, and with it returned the dread Cary had prayed was gone forever. Doors slammed. Candles were snuffed. In the silence that followed, every soul in town felt the truth press heavy in their chest.

The Witch had arrived.
And the Skeleton King was coming.

09/19/2025

Looking for a Spooky Good Boy? Fully functional Skeleton dog for sale $100

09/19/2025

Want to take home a piece of Main Street Cemetery? The Grave Digger is one of our original props! Last year I reinforced the welds to help him stand up to the Cary winds, and tuned up all the mechanicals. SOLD

09/16/2025

The fog had begun to creep back into Cary. At first, no one noticed—it was just a low haze in the evenings, rolling between the lampposts on Main Street like harmless smoke. But soon, it lingered longer. It crept into alleys, into doorways, into homes. And with it came the silence.

The townsfolk spoke of it only in whispers. Old Mrs. Talbot swore she heard footsteps by the cemetery gates when no one was there. Children claimed the gravestones were shifting, turning ever so slightly toward the town as though watching. The church bell rang one night, though no hand pulled the rope.

Most unsettling of all were the crows. They began gathering in the bare trees along Main Street, dozens of them, staring down with glassy black eyes. When a boy threw a rock, not a single bird flinched.

The mayor tried to calm the town, claiming it was nothing but the season, nothing but superstition. But in the dead of night, when the mist thickened and swallowed the old cemetery whole, even he locked his windows tight.

For those who remembered the last time—the night the Witch feasted and the Skeleton King rose—there was no comfort. The gravestones seemed to breathe. The iron gates groaned without a touch.

And though the mist would thin each dawn, revealing nothing but crooked stones and empty grass, everyone in Cary knew the truth. The Witch and her King had not been banished.

They were only waiting.

And soon, they would return.

03/03/2025

Back from the national Halloween show and happy to say we purchased several new mechanisms to add to the haunt for the year. Build season is going to start early! Wish us luck getting everything done before September!

11/02/2024

The people of Cary had long whispered about the old cemetery on Main Street, a crumbling ground shrouded in mist most nights, even when the town itself lay bathed in moonlight. Children dared each other to peer past the iron gate, yet none ventured too far. Those who did, even the bravest, came back pale and tight-lipped, unwilling to speak of what they saw—or what saw them.

In the heart of the cemetery, a hunched figure in tattered black robes moved like smoke among the gravestones. She was the Witch of Main Street, a creature of shadow who had roamed the town for generations, never aging, always hungry. On Halloween night, her powers grew stronger, and this year, she had feasted well. Shadows grew thicker, clinging to her skin as she drew them in, wisps of soul after soul, each drawn from the edges of town by a whisper or a lure. Their fear tasted sweet, like ripened fruit.

Tonight, she had gathered enough power for what she had planned. The mist began to swirl as her fingers traced ancient symbols in the damp earth. With each line, the ground trembled, and from the depths of her portal, a great skeletal figure rose. The Skeleton King, bound in chains of rusted iron, his empty sockets flaring with red fire.

He loomed over the town, his gaze sweeping across the quiet streets, and the Witch grinned, her face a mask of shadows and triumph.

For a moment, the silence stretched, as if the whole town held its breath. Then the Witch whispered a single word, and the chains around the Skeleton King shattered. His laughter echoed through the streets, a deep, hollow sound that chilled the marrow of anyone who heard it. Together, the Witch and her king began their march through Cary, a procession of shadows slipping through walls, creeping into homes, and plucking at the dreams of those who dared sleep.

But as dawn crept over the horizon, the mist grew thicker, swirling faster until it obscured everything—the gravestones, the iron gate, the Witch, and the Skeleton King. And just as suddenly as they had come, they faded, swallowed up by the mist, vanishing as if they had never been there.

Yet, the townsfolk knew. They felt the chill that lingered in the morning air, the emptiness in the streets. Something told them the Witch and the Skeleton King would return, someday, when the mist was thick and the night grew long.

11/01/2024

Almost half a million dollars… that will help a lot of children. ❤️

11/01/2024

Thank you Cary for a very successful, fun night. You took our challenge and delivered. We have no candy left. Thank you for all the love and words of encouragement and thankfulness, it’s truly why we do it. Without others enjoying it wouldn’t be worth it. We saw lots of pictures being taken and would love to see them. Don’t be afraid to tag us in them or post to our page. Until next year…

10/31/2024

Alright Cary, last year you didn’t clear us out, and with that weather we don’t blame you. Let’s make up for it this year!

10/29/2024

A 400k goal was lofty, as previous years had not even come close to it, but this country never fails to amaze me. Thank you to everyone that has donated! I cannot think of a better organization to support, there’s still time to donate if you’re able!!!!