Wilmington's 'Chapel of Horrors' is a haunted house that's almost too good to be true

Bathed in the foreboding glow of red lights, dozens of people waited in line outside a former Coca-Cola bottling facility in Wilmington's Soda Pop District last Sunday for a chance to be terrified.

The crowd was there for "Chapel of Horrors," an immersive, elaborate and truly unnerving haunted house attraction conceived, built and run by film industry professionals with Wilmington's Bearded Skulls makeup/special effects group.

The Bearded Skulls team has hundreds of film and TV credits between them. With plenty of support from local actors and other film industry workers, they took advantage of the ongoing production shutdown that arose from strikes by the writers' and actors' unions to create something they had long talked about but never had time to do: Make the coolest, scariest haunted house of all time.

Since opening in late September, the public has responded favorably, with lines stretching around the block and hundreds of people passing through each night. For its final four evenings before it fades into being a fever nightmare, "Chapel of Horrors" will extend hours from Oct. 27-30 to accomodate the expected crowds.

Last Sunday, as nervous excitement rippled through the chatty crowd waiting in line, a woman stood on the sidewalk holding a cryptic sign that read, "History Will Repeat Itself." She would be seen later inside "Chapel of Horrors" under decidedly less favorable circumstances.

Standing outside of "the haunt," as it's called, co-creator Rick Pour beamed like the proud papa of a grotesque, bloodily deformed demon-child.

The haunt has exceeded his expectations, Pour said, "All the way around. It's been really awesome. It's like, 'Whoa! We did a thing.'"

After a pre-opening, trial night before "Chapel of Horrors" officially welcomed the public, a few things didn't go quite to plan.

"I was sweating bullets," Pour said.

Once they hit game time, however, things fell into place, and by last weekend the haunt was running like a well-oiled, if blood-spattered, machine.

"The bones of the original plan are mostly there, but the particulars evolve constantly, sometimes nightly," said Pour's colleague, Matt Barrett. "Sometimes the change is adapting to a sudden logistical hurdle, or sometimes it’s an actor discovering a fun new thing to do in a moment. This is very much a fluid work that has been shaped by the circumstances. It gets an eye-roll sometimes, but I like to say that we’re letting it tell us what it is. And I am proud of what this team has snatched out of the Lovecraftian ether."

The "Chapel of Horrors" team tracks how their attendees heard about the haunt, Pour said. Some nights, word of mouth referrals have outpaced social media, a rarity in this digital age.

Truly, it's been an attraction for the ages, if not all ages. While waiting in line to get in, a teenage girl nervously asked a haunt worker, "They can't touch us, right?"

The worker assured her that the performers aren't supposed to touch the guests.

In a stroke of brilliance, the haunt's exit is located in view of the line to get in, so those waiting can see the big, relieved smiles of the survivors who made it through, and hear their reactions.

"That was awesome!"

"That was intense!"

"Do NOT go in there!"

Like a horror movie, "Chapel of Horrors" comes complete with a back story.

As you prepare to enter, you're greeted by an actor who says he's a former member of a church once located inside.

"I had to get out," he said, after the church was taken over by a cult. "You know, I'm not quite sure, but I think there may be something evil going on in there." (Cue wailing screams of pain from somewhere inside.)

There's also something about how the church might've been transformed into some kind of portal to another world, a world with ill intent for the inhabitants of ours. Suffice to say, the creatures within are not our friends.

Once you enter, it becomes clear that this isn't your hastily assembled, church-basement haunted house. The production values are akin to a top-notch stage production, except you're on the stage and the actors are close enough for you to touch.

You'll have to make your way over an uneven wooden walkway that vibrates ominously. Loud screams and banging noises startle. Strobe lights and smoke disorient.

At one point my group stepped into a seemingly exitless chamber that began to spin rapidly, causing one woman to moan, "I think I'm going to be sick."

In one room, a disemboweled kid hangs silently on the wall above an altar. Silently, that is, until you're hit with a blood-curdling scream. On an altar in another room, the cult's skeletal leader sacrifices a young woman as she begs, pleads and screams.

Robed, hooded, blade-wielding creatures stand around menacingly. At least twice the night I went, different people in my group suddenly backed away from marauding creatures, only to back directly into me, whereupon they freaked out even further.

One giant, insect-like creature blocked our path temporarily, causing one woman to panic, screaming, "I can't get past you!" One of the teenage girls from the line outside sounded like she was having a nervous breakdown at one point, wailing, "Please! I'm only 14!"

As you leave, unfortunate souls (former church members, perhaps) call out from behind bars and wooden fencing, pleading with you to save them. Capping it all off is a giant, fire-breathing demon head, a truly impressive piece of stagecraft.

Like a favorite horror movie, you could make multiple passes through "Chapel of Horrors," finding new things to appreciate. But like a theatrical production, which it's akin to, the experience is bound to be a little different each time.

"This has been a hard-fought battle for everyone, and I know I’ve added more than a few grey hairs to my beard," Barrett said. "But when I see so many people laughing and screaming and leaving with a smile, it feels completely worth it. And good thing, too, because I guess it’s about time to start thinking about next year."

Wait, next year?

"The official call hasn’t been made yet," Barrett said. "But that is the idea."

Want to go?

What: "Chapel of Horrors," an immersive haunted house experience from Port City Fear Factory

When: Oct. 27-30. Times are 6-11 p.m. Friday, Sunday and Monday, and 6 p.m.-midnight Saturday.

Where: 921 Princess St., Wilmington

Tickets: Tickets start at $25. "Fast pass" tickets are $35, and fast pass tickets with a parking spot are $45.

Details: PortCityFearFactory.com

This article originally appeared on Wilmington StarNews: Wilmington haunted house Chapel of Horrors has fear, production values