Yarn Spider Webs

$3 - $5 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes four massive webs (roughly 8’ x 8’ each)

These can be rather time consuming, especially if you decide to make an enormous web or, in my case, multiple pieces. The beauty of this project, though, is that you can make the web as large or small as you desire. For a dramatic effect, create one massive web that consumes the entire wall or a series of smaller, interlacing webs.

• One 3 ½ oz. bundle of gray yarn (roughly 190 yards)
• One 0.8 oz. bag of plastic spiders (roughly 72 spiders per bag)
• One package of clear push pins (roughly 100 pins per pack)
• One 0.8 oz. bag of foam spider silhouettes (roughly 20 silhouettes per bag)

1. Find an area on your wall large enough to accommodate your web and clear it of any decorations and pictures.

2. Locate the center of your selected area and, as close to the ceiling as possible, push a pin into the wall. Tie one end of the yarn to the pin, stretch it vertically, and fasten the other end with a pin (if you are not worried about damaging the wall, use a staple gun). Repeat this process for each strand, fanning them out as you proceed.

3. Alternate horizontal lines between each row. For taunt strings, I found the following method works best: tie one end of the horizontal strand to one line in the vertical row, pull the other line in the vertical row inward, and tie the second end of the horizontal strand to the other line in the vertical row.

4. Trim the excess yarn. You could perform this task as you progress or wait until the entire web is crafted.

5. Hot glue small plastic spiders to the webbing. Try not to over think your application (a random pattern produces the best results).

6. For additional detail, adhere foam spider silhouettes to the wall. For this, I used tape, but you could use command strips or (as with step two) a staple gun.

"Zigeunerlid" (A Poem)

Published in 1771, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s poem “Zigeunerlid” recounts a fictional tale of one man's interaction with the supernatural. The concept is not unique to the author (read his "Der Erlkönig" here). In fact, as John Cooper highlights, several of Goethe’s works – including “Türkisches Schenkenlied,” “Suleika,” and Die erste Walpurgisnacht – explore humanity’s confrontation with the other side.[1] In the case of “Zigeunerlid,” the altercation occurs after the narrator kills a witch’s black cat and is tormented by seven female werewolves.

In the drizzling mist, with the snow high-piled, 
In the winter night, in the forest wild, 
I heard the wolves with their ravenous howl, 
I heard the screaming not of the owl: 
Wille wau wau wau! 
Wille wow o wo! 
Wito hu! 

I shot, one day, a cat in the ditch – 
The dear black cat of Anna the witch; 
Upon me, at night, seven were-wolves came down,
Seven women they were, from out of the town.
Wille wau wau wau!
Wille wow o wo!
Wito hu! 

I knew them all; ay, I knew them straight; 
First, Anna, then Ursula, Eve, and Kate, 
And Barbara, Lizzy, and Bet as well;
And forming a ring, they began to yell: 
Wille wau wau wau! 
Wille wow o wo! 
Wito hu! 

Then called I their names with angry threat: 
“What wouldst thou, Anna? What wouldst thou, Bet?” 
At hearing my voice, themselves they shook, 
And howling and yelling, to flight they took. 
Wille wau wau wau! 
Wille wow o wo! 
Wito hu!

Works Referenced 

Cooper, John Michael. Mendelssohn, Goethe, and the Walpurgis Night: The Heathen Muse on European Culture, 1700-1850. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, 2007. 

Von Goethe, Johann Wolfgang. “Zigeunerlid.” 1771. The Poems of Goethe. New York: Lovell Coryell and Company, 1882. 67-68.
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[1] Cooper, 37-38.

“Double Double” Banner

$3 - $5 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes one sign

I have never cared for Shakespeare (feelings probably spawned by years of literary scholarship for my Master’s degree). The incantation sung by the three witches in Macbeth, though, is a rare exception to that disdain. I wanted to create a banner showcasing the opening couplet from their famous chant and, outside of almost setting the kitchen on fire, this project proved rather quick and simple to make.

• Twelve sheets of gray cardstock
• One standard lighter
• One hole punch
• Three to four yards of dark-brown twine
• One 4 oz. bottle of all-purpose tacky glue*

1. Print your message onto the cardstock. I chose to print two words per sheet (making each pennant 8 ½” x 5 ½”), but you can make them smaller or larger based on your personal preferences.

2. Cut out each pennant. If you want to give them more visual interest, try using pinking shears or scallop edgers to create fancier boarders.

3. Use a lighter to burn the edges of the pennants. I found that a Butane gas lighter, because of its length, makes the process easier and safer. Likewise, perform this step in a well-ventilated area and near either a sink or pan of water. Don’t be discouraged if you accidentally ignite a pennant or two (you can always reprint the letters you burned).

4. Punch holes into both sides of the pennants. If you want the banner to have a haphazard look, stagger the holes’ placement; otherwise, keep them relatively uniform.

5. Tie the pennants together with twine, knot the ends, trim the excess, and glue the knots for reinforcement. To make hanging easier, leave about a foot of twine on both ends of the banner.

6. You can embellish the banner with additional details, such as aged bones, feathers, severed fingers, or stick figures.

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.

The Trial of a Lycanthrope: A Mini-Essay

     In 1603, Jean Grenier, a fourteen-year-old servant, made a startling confession to the citizens of Landes, France: during his transformations into a wolf, he had stalked, killed, and eaten several local children. The declaration prompted his immediate trial, where he was charged with lycanthropy and sentenced to a life-long incarceration at the Basilica of Saint Michael in Bordeaux.[1] Grenier’s indictment, though, was not an isolated incident. In fact, France alone witnessed several cases of lycanthropy during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries: in 1521, three suspects professed to being part of a wolf pack terrorizing the city of Poligny; in 1573, Gilles Garnier, a citizen of Dole, was accused of possessing a wolf-like appetite for human flesh; and, in 1598, a Parisian man was tried after being found naked and covered in hair at a brutal crime scene.[2] In each instance, lycanthropy was ruled as the cause for the crimes. For contemporary society, where werewolves have become the glitter-coated pets of jejune teen novels, this concept seems rather bizarre; however, at the time of Grenier’s conviction, lycanthropy was a frightening concept which prompted serious discussion by learned individuals throughout Europe.
     In 1580, Jean Bodin, a French political philosopher, wrote his examination of witchcraft and demonology titled De la Démonomanie des Sorciers. Utilizing examples from history and the Bible, Bodin devoted an entire chapter to lycanthropy. During his examination, the author proposes that the material transformation of man into wolf is a product of the Devil, who lulls the lycanthrope into a dreamlike state and imposes a hallucination onto the victim’s body to deceive both him and any observers.[3] Through this demon-delusion, Bodin maintains, the Devil can manipulate the werewolf to do his devious biddings. Although it was controversial during the time of its publication, Bodin’s argument was one of many emerging during the era. From Henri Boguet’s Discours des Sorciers (1590) and Claude Prieur’s Dialogue de la Lycanthropie (1596) to Le Sieur de Beauvoys de Chauvincourt’s Discours de la Lycanthropie (1599) and Jean de Nynauld’s De la Lycanthropie (1615) numerous works materialized during the latter part of the sixteenth century which, akin to Bodin’s text, upheld that lycanthropy was a deception of the Devil.[4] It was this definition, in turn, which was employed by the courts during earlier cases as a means to judge and execute Gilles Garnier, the three individuals from Poligny, and countless others. In retaliation to this malicious perception, physicians such as Reginald Scot and Johann Weyer claimed lycanthropy was not a demon-delusion, but an illness of Melancholia attributed to excess black bile.[5] In 1584, Scot published The Discoverie of Witchcraft, which – along with Weyer’s De Praestigiis Daemonum in 1563 – stressed the need for compassion and healing in cases of lycanthropy and condoned the persecution and death, particularly that of Garnier, which had run rampant as a result of Bodin and his peers.[6] By the start of the seventeenth century, as Grenier’s trial attests, the opinion of Scot and Weyer had made a slight impact, with the Higher Court electing to sequester the criminal to a monastic life rather than burn him at the stake like his predecessors.

Works Referenced

Frost, Brian. The Essential Guide to Werewolf Literature. Madison, WI: University of Wisconsin Press, 2003.

Gee, Joshua. Encyclopedia Horrifica. New York: Scholastic, Inc., 2007.

Midelforty, H.C. Erik. A History of Madness in Sixteenth-Century Germany. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1999.

Otten, Charlotte, ed. A Lycanthropy Reader: Werewolves in Western Culture. Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 1986.

Summers, Montague. The Werewolf in Lore and Legend. 1933. New York: Dover Publications, Inc., 2003. 

Wiseman, S.J. “Hairy on the Inside: Metamorphosis and Civility in English Werewolf Texts.” Renaissance Beasts: Of Animals, Humans, and Other Wonderful Creatures. Ed. Erica Fudge. Champaign, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2004. 50-69.     

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[1] Summers, 231-234.

[2] Gee, 30.

[3] Wiseman, 58.

[4] Frost, 30-31.

[5] Midelforty, 169.

[6] Otten, 102.

Bug-Infested Flour Sack

$7 - $10 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes one sack

This prop disgusted several of the haunt’s visitors and unnerved a friend who stopped by earlier in October to witness the prop-building process. Due to time constraints, I was only able to create one, but I would have loved to make quite a few more (some with bugs and others without).

• One 5 lbs. flour sack
• At least four tablespoons of dark roasted coffee grounds
• One pan large enough to soak the flour sack
• One yard of black fabric
• One 2 oz. bag of spider webbing
• One 0.07 oz. tube of super glue
• One bag of plastic cockroaches (roughly two dozen bugs per bag)

1. Boil enough water to completely submerge the flour sack and pour it into the pan. Add the coffee. The longer you allow the coffee to brew, the darker the stain will become. Likewise, greater amounts of coffee will produce a richer stain. Submerge the sack in the coffee mixture and soak it until it reaches the color you desire. I soaked mine for two days and scattered the coffee grounds over the top of the fabric to add spots. Remove the sack from the water and allow it to dry.

2. Cut small squares (roughly 2” x 2”) out of the black fabric. These will serve as backing for the holes to give the illusion that they are deeper than they actually are.

3. Once the flour sack has dried, turn it inside-out and glue the fabric squares to the areas where you will create holes. If you want more creative leeway, skip the second step and sew the black fabric inside the sack to form a lining.

4. Turn the sack right-side out and snip holes in the cloth. The best means to do this is by holding the sack and the black fabric apart (this will prevent you from accidentally cutting the lining) and making a small nick in the sack.

5. Use a bag of old spider webbing to fill the sack. You are basically creating a pillow. Try not to overstuff the prop. You want it to have lumps and slouch when placed upright.

6. Once you have stuffed the flour sack, sew the top closed. If you want the prop to have a rustic appearance, stop at this point (if this is the case, you might consider bypassing steps two, three, and four to simply create worn sacks as decorative filler for your haunt).

7. Since I wanted something more arresting, I used scissors to transform the small cuts made earlier into tattered holes. For believability, vary the size of each hole and fray the ends.

8. Glue cockroaches to the sack. I did both the front and the back (pictured), but you could cover just the side which will be displayed to save time. Try not to over think your application (a random pattern produces the best results). For added detail, arrange the bugs to make it appear as though they are crawling out of the holes. NOTE: The particular cockroaches I used were made with a slick plastic which did not adhere with hot glue. As a result, I used superglue to affix them to the prop.

9. If you plan to display these props outdoors in windy conditions, you might want to give them additional weight by adding small sandbags or rocks in the base during the stuffing process.

"The Fossilot" (A Poem)

The Halloween season supplies ample fodder for playfully macabre poems and Jane Yolen's collection, Best Witches, offers twenty-one spirited verses. Although some are rather serious and contemplative, most, like "The Fossilot," are comical in nature. 

You cannot find a Fossilot
Except in ancient stones,
Where imprints of its teeth and claws
Lie jumbled with its bones.

Some scientists cleaned up the bones,
Arranged, then tried to date them.
But when they had the jaw complete - 
It turned around and ate them.

Works Referenced

Yolen, Jane. "The Fossilot." Best Witches: Poems for Halloween. New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1989. pg. 18.

Aged Bones

$5 - $7 (based on 2016 prices)

Makes a dozen bones

I bought these bones back in 2015 for my creepy doll talismans. I attempting to stain them, but the coloration was too unnatural. So, I used chicken bones instead. A year later, I repurposed them with a few coats of paint and they proved remarkably versatile. In fact, I was able to incorporate them into three props for 2016’s haunt.

• One bag of cheap, plastic bones (roughly one dozen bones per bag)
• One 8 oz. can of interior/exterior, fast-drying latex paint in flat white*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flat black*
• One 2 oz. bottle of acrylic paint in flat brown*

1. In a well-ventilated area, lay out the bones on a newspaper-lined surface and give them three even coats of white paint. Although you can use more paint, keep in mind that additional layers may cause the coverage to become thick and cakey. To prevent this, apply each coat individually and allow it to fully dry before the next application.

2. Once the paint has dried, give the bones a smudging of brown paint. I discovered that applying a small amount of paint to your thumb and index finger and rubbing it onto the prop works well.

3. Repeat the second step using black paint. For this particular patina, I worked from light to dark to give the bones a brown hue accented with blacks; however, you could work from dark to light to give the props a darker appearance.

*You will not use the entire bottle’s content for this project.