Before the pandemic rocked the world to its foundations, we in the local drama group would run a haunted house attraction to help raise funds for the year and support some local charities. This year it seems that people want to see that things are returning to normal and a lot of loyal attendees have be enquiring whether we were going to restart the tradition of the last twenty seven years.

Unfortunately, the effects of Covid have reduced the number of members in the group and still further their willingness to get more directly involved with the public.

Initially we were minded to postpone the resumption of hauntings, at least until next year, but one of our members, who is also a local councillor, informed us that events such as ours would attract a small grant, in an effort to promote the area. It took some time to work out that with the few people we had, we could put on an attraction, with the council grant covering the costs and the funds raised from ticket sales being split between the hard-pressed charities and our diminished group.

Previously, the club would split up into small groups, each taking responsibility for a single scene in the haunted house tour. With our reduced numbers, we would either have to do fewer scenes or manage to have most members be in several scenes, which, at first, looked like a logistical nightmare (and we were the people supposed to be giving out nightmares, rather than getting them).

Online ticketing came to our rescue. This allowed us to have specific times for the start of each tour and only required one person, instead of the usual three, at the door to look after arrivals, as there was no cash handling to worry about. This innovation allowed us to plan eight scenes with enough time for the actors and technicians to alternate between scenes; before we would start a scene when enough people had arrived, which meant that, in many cases, there were several scene going on at once.

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I volunteered for the introductory scene, which is a monologue where I welcome the guests to the attraction and explain my situation.

My preparation for this scene involves putting on a white dress covered in frills over my costume for the other scene I am involved in, then sitting in the chair to wait for Toby to arrive to complete the scene.

When Toby gets there (he is involved in the scene after my other one) he will check my microphone and then put the head box over my head, slide in the blade at the bottom and transfer it to the 'head life support' apparatus. Once he has moved the 'body life support' equipment into place, he goes behind the scenes to keep an eye on the sound and lighting, but also to keep a look out for guests behaving inappropriately.

When the guests arrive there is not much to see, because a curtain is drawn in front of my body and I try to keep my head as still as possible as it sits on the open-fronted box filled with pipes and bellows and pumps circulating blue and green liquids through clear plastic tubes. Steam-punk with some modern conveniences.

A few seconds after the entry door closes, I open my eyes and blink at them as if they woke me up. I usually get someone to express their surprise; mostly somebody will yip, but once in a while I get a full-throated scream. I smile my pleasure at the reaction and then convert it into a smile of greeting.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Milly, and before you ask, yes I am a head being kept alive by the equipment in the box.” This, of course, is an outright lie; my head is still magically connected to my body behind the curtain. The equipment in the box is mainly for show, to give my exhibit a 'mad science-y' vibe (much better than an empty box, in my opinion), and to show that I am not a person sat in the box with their head sticking out.

“I've been like this for a year or so; it takes some getting used to, take it from me. It took me a long time of trying to blow stray hairs off of my face before I decided that I needed to have a shorter haircut. Now, you are wondering how I got like this, right?”

At this point there is usually a murmur that confirms that is exactly what they wanted to ask.

“This being a haunted house, I would love to tell you that it was a dark and stormy night and that I was attacked by a machete-wielding home-invader, but actually it was a bright sunny day and me and my sister were driving on a straight road when the lorry ahead shed some of its load. Our car was hit by a huge sheet of glass that sliced of the entire roof of the car. Fortunately the driver of the lorry spotted what had happened and called the emergency services.

“When the ambulance arrived my body was passed saving having been riddled with the many iron rods that also penetrated my side of the car. But they managed to save my head. So here you see me, being a living detached head exhibit to try and get enough money together to buy a wheelchair that I can control with a combination of eye movements and blowing into a tube.

“At least I am better off than my sister; while her body was completely uninjured, she lost her head.”

Toby, behind the scenes, activates the curtain that has hidden my body from view. There is normally a sympathetic 'ahh'ing when they realise that they are seeing a headless body sat in a chair with the

area where head should be filled by an area of bubbling glass pipes where red and yellow fluids pulse back and forth.

“This is my sister Tilly; and before you go thinking our parents were unimaginative when naming us, my Milly is short for Millicent and her Tilly is the best she could make of Tillemiranda when she first started to speak and it stuck. Unfortunately, she can't speak any more, but as long as we can see each other we can communicate.”

I make an interrogative gesture with my hands, as if my body is asking what is going on, and then I put my hand on a metal ball on a stand next to the seat.

Speaking clearly, to give the impression that it was required, I say, “Yes, Tilly, we have some more visitors. Maybe they will want to ask some questions.”

There follows a short Q&A session with the audience. At the start of the run, I was making up answers on the spot, but as the shows continued I developed a knowledge of the history of Milly and Tilly and our hopes and desires going forward. These include the hoped for mobility for my head and a better way from Tilly to communicate than hand signals and the vibrations of the metal sphere.

When I get the signal that the next scene of our haunted house is ready, I will answer another couple of questions and then feign tiredness. “Being conscious, is very tiring for me,” I would say having yawned as best I can as a disembodied head. “I need a bit of a rest before the next group of guests arrive. Please, make your way carefully through the door to the next exhibit.” Toby will switch on the 'This way' sign and release the door catch.

They will be allowed about a minute to clear out, then Toby would come out and shoo any stragglers along.

The process of getting me back together is simple. Toby moves the 'Body life support' out of the way then puts the box back over my head, lifts it into place and pulls the blade, before stepping lively to his next scene. Usually this is enough for my head to snap back into place, but once in a while I have to raise my hands to support my head while feeling for the snapping point; this is moderately uncomfortable, because the entire weight of my head presses down on the tender new skin that covers my throat. Then I unzip the side of frilly white dress and step from it fully formed into my role as a 1920's flapper bride in a silver-grey dress embroidered with white threads and black beads.

Then it is my turn to rush off to my next scene.

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When I get to my next scene, the first thing that happens is that I am presented with a cup of drink, which I usually down in one, because it tastes like spicy water that has been used to boil cabbage to death, and the colour is more often than not unappetising. Occasionally, it will be pink and taste of raspberries. It is meant to protect my throat from the stresses of the screaming that I shall be doing for the next few minutes.

Then we have a couple of minutes to apply the ropes that will designate me and Jeremy as captured by Robert.

The audience enter into an empty area; the only thing that is illuminated, other than the required emergency exit signs, is a large stone plinth. As they take in their surroundings, Robert drags us into the scene.

There then follows some scene-setting dialogue. The gist of this is that Jeremy and I are honeymooners Brad and Janet (in homage to the Rocky Horror Picture Show) whose car broke down and have come to the mansion to seek assistance. Robert is either a mad scientist or demonworshipper (seemingly at random) whose plans for a quiet evening of evil-doing have been interrupted. Instead of killing us on the spot, he saw the chance for using us for an experiment or to placate the demons that he was intent on summoning; to which (ever) end we had been captured and brought to this chamber.

Robert, an expert improviser, who could read the audience with exceptional skill, would have a rant about the disruption to his plans and what an opportunity our unwanted presence offered (to perform an experiment he had not anticipated have the ingredients (us) for, or as bait for a bigger demon). Before the audience had a chance to get bored with Robert's monologuing, he would give Jeremy a cue to interrupt and protest that he would not get away with whatever plan he had just outlined.

“It would have been so much more simpler without you meddling kids,” the villain would declare and promptly 'knock out' Jeremy; sometimes with a knobbly club, a silver-handled cane, or a scrap of cloth that he had recently had in conjunction with a large bottle marked 'chloroform'. This was mainly to get around the in-story fact that Brad could have easily escaped while the mad scientist/demon-worshipper dealt with Janet; but out of story, Jeremy did not have the knack for 'struggling ineffectively'.

There followed a short struggle scene where I was manoeuvred onto the plinth and tied down with my feet at one end and my arms above my head at the other. Jeremy was lifted into place next to me and would 'come round', and tell Robert that he would not get away with it, again. Our villain would assure us that he would get away with it, but, whatever happened, we would be dead so it would not make any difference to our fates.

At this point he would pull on a rope which was the cue for the technician in charge of the scene to switch on the light that illuminated the crescent blade of the pendulum that hung above the plinth.

The audience always took a deep breath of awe at this point. Then the blade began to swing and with each swing it dropped closer to mine and Jeremy's middles. Jeremy promptly 'fainted', leaving me to play the frightened damsel in distress, who also had to worry about her newly-wed husband.

I would spend the minute that it took for the pendulum to drop to within an inch of my belly alternating between screaming my terror at the situation and begging Robert to release us.

I would reserved my loudest scream for the moment that the edge of the blade first touched me, slicing through my dress and into my belly below without appearing to lose any momentum. It helped me that this was the most painful part of the scene, which felt more like a pinprick, than having my guts sliced open. This slice would miss Jeremy, because I was directly under the blade, but he was slightly to the side, but Janet's scream would revive Brad long enough for him to take in the situation and faint again.

It took three further swings of the pendulum to cut through me and begin to disembowel Jeremy.

Sometimes, the tip of the crescent blade would hook under a loop of Jeremy's intestines and drape them across my already bloody mid-riff.

At the end of the third swing the blade would make contact with the plinth and come to a shuddering stop. This was my cue to bend my knees and pull with my elbows so that the two separate parts of my body went in different directions, giving the impression that there was more tension in the ropes 'holding me in place' than there really was. Then all I had to do until the end of the scene was play dead.

Robert would have a quick(-ish) closing monologue about how disappointed he was at the result of what he had done, during which he would winch the bladed pendulum back into its starting position and then spread a cloth over us and tell the observers to go away.

When the audience had left, Robert would pull off the cloth, so that we could return to our other scenes for the next group of guests; we were revealed to be untied, restored and with not a trace of the gore that appeared to have been covering us both. Luckily I was in no great hurry, because I had a few minutes to wait for Toby to return to behead me again for the first scene