Erik Martin continues his tour of the best neighborhood ghoulish yards by straying across the border into Evergreen Park for local Halloween favorite Resurrection Graveyard, a free home haunt decorated for Halloween, located on the 9400 block of South Country Club Drive. The boneyard is open through Oct. 29 from  7-10 p.m. and Oct. 30-31 from 7 p.m. to midnight.

If Mike Amoroso and his son Marty ever wake up from the undead one day and decide to charge admission to their astounding display, they're bound to make a mint. That's because the interior portion of Resurrection Graveyard—assembled on the side of their home and manned by up to 40 experienced volunteers who are serious about scaring—is one of the greatest walk-through haunted houses I've ever experienced. Amazingly, it's completely free.

But don't just take my word for it. Ask any of the hundreds of dedicated visitors who stand in line on open nights—a crowd that sometimes stretches down the block—for a chance to be mortified. Luckily for the Amorosos and their crew, many of the bloodshot-eyed but smiling customers put a few shillings in the donation box outside the front archway on their way out. Because scaring at this level sure don't come cheap. In fact, the team spent more than $4,000 on new props and scare stations in 2010 alone. Resurrection Graveyard, in fact, is now 16 rooms strong, if my count is correct.

But to Mike, Marty and their small army of well-costumed actors, it isn't about the greenbacks. Its about the goosebumps. And there are plenty to be felt while winding your way through the murky, tight corners that comprise this passionately crafted asylum, which looks quite boxy and unassuming from the outside.

But once through the portal, you're met with a myriad of horrific set pieces—from a straightjacketed maniac's lair to a lunatic fireman who emblazons your eyeballs with a bright arc of electric sparks he creates across a chain link cage. There's a girl being unmercifully tortured in a real bathtub by a demonic assailant. Meet the gravedigger who likes to keep human heads as souvenirs. And the deranged guy in the white lab coat who concocts a toxic stew of chemicals in big metal drums is just dying to meet you.

What left me with the strongest impression, beyond the inspired performances (many of the volunteer actors work paid haunted houses like Reaper's Realm and then commute to this haunt for the sheer fun of being a part of the action), is the impeccable level of detail in every vignette. Look at the amount of care put into the bedroom scene, for example: the furniture, trinkets, lights and makeup (it doesn't hurt to have two professional makeup artists on hand) are all so carefully designed and positioned. The fireman's suit and gravedigger uniform are real. The screams aren't looped sound effects, they're bona fide live and loud.

The Amorosos began Resurrection Graveyard as a more modest front lawn-only display eight years ago. In 2005, they advanced to the big leagues by adding the walk-thru haunted attraction.

Ask Mike what inspired him in his Halloween season hobby and he'll tell you he's a gravedigger by trade—formerly for Resurrection Cemetery.

"Three years ago, we only had a tent out here, but it blew away during a bad storm," said Mike. "We were going to stop scaring for that year, but my son said, 'Dad, let's keep on going.'"

That very night, Marty said, "we went out, bought wood and built a bigger, stronger, 12-room haunted house that was ready for people to visit the next day."

One distinction father and son are especially proud of is their operating time. Long after most home haunts have closed down for the night, Resurrection Graveyard is still going strong—sometimes as late as midnight. Additionally, they get fans from as far away as Indiana and Michigan who are willing to drive hours to experience their display. And a portion of the contributions they collect is donated to fund breast cancer research.

What's more, Resurrection Graveyard accommodates younger children and those with disabilities by toning down the horrific content or difficult navigability upon request. Case in point: One stretch of the interior haunt requires you to crawl through a tunnel on your hands and knees. Those unable to do so are led through an alternate upright passage. And then there are others who find their own way out—as fast as they can.

"One person was so scared they ran right through a wall to get out. Luckily nobody got hurt. One teenager even peed in her pants," Mike said.