The 11th witch in a cursed bloodline —
She doesn’t age. She doesn’t leave.
Each daughter looks like the last,
until no one remembers who the first was.
She came from the old world,
made her home in the shadows of the Timber Farm.
She feasts off the land —
and the land feasts off you.
They say she grows and brews things.
But beware: her offerings come laced with evil intent.
She’s built her Coven in the dark.
Now they grow stronger —
and hungrier.
Men are drawn to her seduction.
Use caution… few return.
And those that do are never quite the same.
Come find her… if you crave the dark.
But beware — her Coven does not take kindly to visitors.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.
The blaze took everything —
her home, her family, her voice of reason.
Only Toast, her scorched stuffed bear, made it out with her.
They say something snapped that night.
Now she paints her face with broken smiles,
laughs when she should scream,
and plays games with rules no one understands
She found calm in the Timber Farm.
But when the sun goes down —
the madness begins.
Giggles doesn’t work alone anymore.
The Quinn Family brings the noise.
And together… they make sure you never forget her laugh.
Wanna play?
She’s dying for a new best friend.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm
Some spirits whisper.
Killian commands.
He keeps the dead in check,
binds the wicked to the Timber Farm,
and calls forth only those whose time has come
to cross into darkness.
When his voice echoes through the trees —
the evil listens.
The living run.
His staff holds the souls of the marked.
His warnings are final.
No one crosses without his permission
Step lightly. Speak true.
Or be claimed.
Come find him keeping watch
in the darkest parts of the woods.
But be warned —
Killian appears when you least expect him.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.
Once just a scavenger of scraps,
Opie was changed by something unnatural —
twisted into a predator of the dark.
He burrows.
He hides in plain sight.
He waits.
Don’t be fooled by his hunched frame or quiet snarl.
He’s fast. He’s clever.
And he’s always collecting.
Phones. Jewelry. Keys.
He doesn’t care what it is —
if it shines, it’s his.
And if you try to stop him,
his claws will leave more than just empty pockets.
Keep your head on a swivel.
Opie’s always watching.
And he never comes up empty.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.
She drifts between worlds, bound to the ruins of the plantation grounds.
A whisper in the wind. A chill in the bone.
Her voice is enchanting
but her breath is cold as the grave.
When she calls to you, resisting is futile.
Those who follow her vanish from this life, only to rise again…
as soldiers in her growing army of death.
She is the soul you feel behind you. The presence in the fog.
The reason the cemetery never sleeps.
Step into her domain…
and you may never step out.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.
Once a man — a caretaker, forgotten by time.
Now a walking wound, stitched together by bark, grief, and rage.
By day, he watches from the woods.
The echo of shotgun blasts still ring in what’s left of his mind.
The same echo that drove the last piece of him underground.
Society cast him out.
Now he returns the favor —
with axe in hand, and no mercy in his heart.
Woody doesn’t speak.
He seethes.
Every step he takes is payback.
Every scream he draws is therapy.
And your death?
That’s his peace
Stray off the path…
and you’ll never leave the forest.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.
They say the heat changed him —
down in the quarry, near the old kilns.
One bad shift…
and the fire never left his face.
Now Vein guards the entrance alone —
burned, broken, and half-mad.
Proceed with caution.
Enter not without his word.
Assume nothing.
Get away with less.
Seen or unseen…
he’s always watching.
That lantern he carries?
It’s not for you.
It’s for what’s buried below
Step wrong…
and you’ll never see the surface again.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm
She was one of many
when the fire took the Estate House.
The children never made it out.
Now they linger — lost and confused.
Catherine was the quiet one —
the one they say still watches from the windows.
Still searching.
Still waiting.
Still calling for the mother who never came.
She wanders the grounds at night,
her steps soft…
until the screaming starts.
That’s not a scare.
That’s the sound of a soul still burning
If you hear her cry…
it’s already too late.
Only at Terror on the Timber Farm.