Do you remember the times when haunted houses were all about fake cobwebs, creaky floorboards, and someone in a plastic mask jumping out at you? Sure, it was scary, but you left at the end of the night and went home to an unhealthy amount of candy and endless giggles. Fast forward a decades, we discover that adulthood itself is the haunted house. And the scares? They’re subtle, persistent, and don’t vanish when you get home.
The Closet of Forgotten Goals – Every haunted house has a closet full of secrets. In the haunted house of adulthood, the closet holds forgotten goals: the gym membership never used, the book you promised yourself you’d finish, the dream career you once swore you’d chase. You open the door, and there it is, a clan of skeletons dressed in dust and old ambitions. You remember a time when life had more fireworks and fewer calendars marked “mandatory” or “urgent”. Sometimes the only way forward is to close the door and quietly walk away, until next October.
©MJ Sabine
The Basement of Unpaid Bills – Every creaky staircase leads somewhere and we loved the thrill of it as children. In adulthood? We get panic attacks and high blood pressure when we are lead down to the basement where unpaid bills lurk like spectres. You procrastinate as long as you can but at some point the headless horsemen of Payment Overdue come calling. It’s dark. You trip over a credit card statement. You knock over a water bill. Somewhere in the shadows, your electricity provider is muttering: “We’ll be seeing you again next month.” You leave with a shiver, clutching your wallet. The basement always wins.
The Attic of Awkward Reunions – Haunted houses have attics filled with old things you don’t need anymore. Adult life has attics filled with old relationships and awkward reunions. You open the trapdoor and there they are: former coworkers you barely remember, friends from college who now live in your head rent-free, old love notes written in an era before auto-correct. Sometimes the attic is creepy. Sometimes it’s hilarious. And sometimes it’s just a reminder that you’ve been wandering this haunted house for far too long. Time to bring out the blowtorch and blast them all to kingdom come. Convert that attic into a den, office, or studio instead.
©MJ Sabine
The Hall of Mirrors (Social Media Edition) – Every carnival that we visited has a hall of mirrors that takes grotesque pleasure in twisting reality. Adulthood’s mirrors are social media feeds, a circus of reflections where everyone looks like they’re having the time of their life. In one mirror, a friend is vacationing in Bali. In another, someone has a spotless home office and a perfectly brewed cappuccino. You scroll, laughing nervously at the distortions, because the truth is, your mirror shows you your own version of reality, and it’s fine if it’s a little messy.
The Kitchen of Eternal Snacks – No haunted house is complete without a room that’s absurdly comforting despite the shadows and howling wind. In the haunted house of adulthood, that room is the kitchen, where diets are slashed and tortured by the snacks that will never expire, coffee mugs that mysteriously multiply, and the occasional leftover slice of pizza that somehow survived the apocalypse. The kitchen is where you find peace, where you sit at 3:00am and brew your pot of courage before meetings, where you raid the cookie jar after deadlines. It’s your safe space in a world full of cobwebs, unpaid bills, and phantom emails.
Here’s the truth: adulthood’s haunted house is full of laughter and fear, nostalgia and chaos. Sometimes the monsters are in the basement. Sometimes they’re in your head. But the trick is to walk through with your flashlight on, your coffee in hand, and a sense of humour in your pocket. Because adulthood may be a haunted house, but you get to decide whether it’s a horror story or the most epic adventure you’ve ever lived.
Hauntvent — Because Halloween deserves more than just one night. 🎃💀
*Welcome to HAUNTVENT! If Christmas gets Advent, comprised of four weeks of build‑up, candlelight, and carols, why shouldn’t Halloween get its own countdown? Think about it. Even Thanksgiving has bonus add-ons such as Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Giving Tuesday. Oh, and let us not forget that Easter has the entire 40 days of Lent, plus Holy Week. Meanwhile, Halloween gets exactly one day. ONE! That’s like giving Christmas just one gingerbread man and calling it a holiday. We Halloween advocates deserve more. Want more. We have the right to Hauntvent. A full two weeks of delightful absurdity, seasonal satire, and spooky observations. In short, a playful countdown to October 31st. This October, I’m taking Halloween seriously. So buckle up, light your jack‑o’‑lanterns, and prepare yourself: Hauntvent has begun!
The Hauntvent Series
FrogDiva Thoughts 
What a brilliantly crafted and utterly relatable piece of writing. This is more than just a seasonal observation; it’s a poignant, witty, and strangely comforting manifesto for modern adulthood.
You’ve perfectly captured that subtle, lingering dread that replaces the jump-scares of youth. The metaphors are genius—each room in this “haunted house” is so instantly recognizable. From the “Closet of Forgotten Goals” (that “clan of skeletons dressed in dust and old ambitions” is a killer line) to the “Basement of Unpaid Bills,” you’ve given a name and a chillingly accurate address to the anxieties we all shuffle past every day.
But what makes it truly special is the underlying resilience. The message that while we can’t escape this house, we can navigate it with our flashlight of self-awareness, our coffee mug of courage, and a sense of humor as our most powerful tool. The idea of converting the attic into a den or studio is a beautiful call to action—to reclaim our spaces and our narratives.
And then, “Hauntvent”! What a fantastic, inspired concept. You’ve made a compelling and hilarious case for it. The comparison to Advent and Lent is spot-on, and the line “That’s like giving Christmas just one gingerbread man and calling it a holiday” is pure comedic gold. You’ve built a whole world and a philosophy here in a few short paragraphs.
This is the kind of writing that makes a reader feel seen, understood, and a little less alone in the spooky, creaky, but ultimately adventurous house of grown-up life. Thank you for sharing this absolute gem. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to the Kitchen of Eternal Snacks to brew a pot of courage.
Happy Hauntvent! 🎃
Thank you for such a thoughtful and generous message! It was such a pleasure to receive and read this! I have been toying with this concept since last year and finally got around to crafting it. I hope you stick with it until the grand finale on Oct. 31! There is a lot more in store! Happy Hauntvent!