PHOENIX — Tina Reuwsaat couldn’t contain herself when she opened the living room door to hear a groan of agony from its hinges.

"It’s finally starting to work," she exclaimed with a mischievous grin. "A friend told us to put lighter fluid on the hinges to make them squeak."

She swung the door again so her husband, Tim, and a visitor could hear the mournful music.

No, the Reuwsaats aren’t mentally unhinged. They are perfectly normal folks who merely enjoy a little frightful fun come Halloween.

That’s when they become the Baron Vladimer and Baroness Morticia Reuwsaat, turning their 1908 Victorian home near Phoenix into the Darkwing Manor.

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Each Halloween, they drag their skeletons kicking and screaming out of the closet to decorate the house listed on the National Register of Historic Places. The public is invited to drop by in the evenings today and Sunday.

The Reuwsaats expect about 700 visitors this year, nearly double the number who tiptoed past last year. About a dozen volunteers, all in frightful attire for the occasion, will be on hand to guide brave souls to safety.

"It’s a lot of work to prepare for, but it’s also a lot of fun," Tim said. "You get a lot of satisfaction in seeing people enjoying themselves.

"I really believe people like to be scared a little. Having them come here and scream and jump a bit is fun."

In the light of day, Tim is the U.S. Bureau of Land Management’s Medford District manager. Tina is a lifelong student of history and a collector of antiques with a master’s degree in American decorative art from the Smithsonian Institution.

The Halloween hobby haunters begin working on the annual project early in October. They usually get a little help from like-minded friends and their two grown sons, Cody and Jarad.

"We’re always thinking of it in the back of our minds, even if we are doing a remodeling project," Tina said. "We’re always thinking about what our needs are going to be when it comes time for the Halloween show."

Like werewolves during a full moon, their needs are great this time of year.

Both have their particular haunts. She does the inside, he the outside.

Step into her parlor.

You’ll find a sinister-looking fortune teller dubbed Esmerelda and a crystal ball. Next to it is an open coffin with a corpse whose skin has shriveled.

"This is Uncle Thermun who conveniently died of yellow fever," she said by way of an introduction.

Fortunately, Unc doesn’t reach out with his festering fingers. But there are unsettling rumors he may be stirring this weekend.

Next is the "Morguetorium Museum," where the baroness displays her collection of largely 19th-century funerary items, including authentic hair wreaths and hair jewelry from the dearly departed.

"When people come in here, I’ll explain about the 19th- century funeral mourning practices," she said.

"You’ll have five minutes, otherwise they’ll be stacking up," Tim cautioned.

The gargoyle glaring down at visitors from the morguetorium wall will help keep visitors moving along. Two bat-infested lamps seem to draw the growing darkness creeping in through the spider-web lace hanging from the windows.

Visitors will want to escape quickly to the relative safety outside.

They’ll be met with the wailing cries of "Mommy! Mommy!" drifting like mist from the balcony above the front door. Chances are they’ll see a ghostly figure floating in the air.

That’ll be Elizabeth, representing an only child who died in the house in the early 1930s, according to the Reuwsaats. Local lore has it she was the victim of misdiagnosed appendicitis.

Fleeing the house, visitors, guided by grave-diggers, vampires, mad scientists and zombies, will be taken for a stroll through the yard haunt.

There is a marker for "Frankenstein" author Mary W. Shelley, dead since Feb. 1, 1851. Next-door is another fan of the macabre, Edgar Allan Poe, living nevermore since Oct. 7, 1849.

The tombstones may be fake but the metal cemetery fence is the real thing. It came from property the Reuwsaats owned in Nevada.

The three hearses on display, including a horse-drawn hearse from the late 19th century, are also authentic, as are several coffins.

Tim employs special effects, including animatronic hardware, to get the most of out his displays.

Visitors may also want to move quickly past the crypt. Inside will be a warty old hag who is the apparent victim of a rather nasty hatchet attack.

Finally, visitors fleeing to their vehicles will exit under a huge spider web holding an evil-looking spider about the size of a Thanksgiving turkey.

The baron suggests you don’t provoke it.

If you go

Their home is at 4192 Coleman Creek Road just west of Phoenix.

Visitors should look for the southern entrance with the hearse, park where signs indicate, visit the parlor and "morguetorium" in the historic house, then take a scary stroll past the graveyard and assorted haunts.

Volunteers in appropriate attire will be on hand to guide guests to safety.