Walking through the backstage corridors at London Dungeons, I try my hardest to keep my cool - but it's pretty hard. The dark walls, low ceilings and winding passages all look the same, and it's surprisingly just as creepy behind the scenes. "Everyone gets lost," my tour guide Harry Butterwick tells me, though I'm not surprised - even with the lights dimly lit, the eerie atmosphere is still prominent.
"It's important we keep the magic alive," Harry adds, reminding me that the building has a history of whispering ghosts and real-life haunted tales. I've been invited to spend a day in the life of a scare actor and experience everything the role involves, from a full makeover to 1-1 training and a big performance. I left my drama days in school and I don't have a scary bone in my 5'1 body, but Halloween is all about stepping outside of your comfort zone.
It's early morning and the actors are just filing in to start their shifts - though you'd never recognise them in casual clothes and friendly faces.
The walls are decked out with skulls, ancient maps, imitation weapons and life-sized mannequins that I keep mistaking for real people.
"This is the spookiest pathway in the building," Harry says, indicating where the walls normally shake and objects leap out at you.
I take a seat on a bench in front of Natalie Cartwright, the studio technician, and she tells me how all the newbies learn to do their own make-up.
"We go through everything with them and all the elements they need to create their characters, from scabs, blisters, scars, boils, slashes and puss," Natalie explains.
The actors spend four hours having make-up lessons and getting their costumes fitted when they join, then it's in their own hands.
Today, we only have 20 minutes to get into costume so Natalie takes it away, pulling a long brown rag over my head.
I have one last look in the mirror at my normal face, before I'm transformed into the Plague Doctor's Assistant and taken back to 1665.
I feel apprehensive about what the rest of the shift will bring, but as Natalie begins applying products and chatting me through each step, I start to relax.
It makes a change getting my face painted and almost feels luxurious, though it's far from my usual Friday night glam - I'm getting more hideous by the second.
Natalie starts by covering my face with a pale ivory foundation to drain all the natural colour away. Then she gets out a brown contour powder which looks much like my bronzer, but is applied in the opposite way.
"We're going to create dark shadows where we don't necessarily want them," Natalie explains - contouring beneath my cheekbones instead of above.
"This standard base works for all positions in the dungeon. Then we add boils or scabs to create a specific look for each area."
"I'm following the natural lines under your eyes and sharpening them to make them stand out," she describes.
She uses dark brown eyeshadow to create dots across my face, then a scratch sponge to add texture.
"I'm going to use latex to add texture on the skin, in the creases, around your nose and the corners of your mouth,” she says, squeezing the same tube of Duo eyelash glue that I have at home.
I'm amazed at how basic and simple the make-up products are, though Natalie explains that "95 percent of eyelash adhesives are made of latex".
Natalie pats translucent powder over my face to set everything in place, and then comes the blood, sweat and tears (literally).
"This helps to make it 3D," she says, picking up a gel that emulates puss, before adding fake blood.
"I wouldn't go overboard with blood for the plague but a nosebleed adds to the effect," she finishes.
As I glimpse at the final look in the mirror, I let out a huge gasp, struggling to recognise my reflection.
Now I'm all ready, it's time to immerse myself in the character, which is the part I've been dreading the most.
Looking down at my script of Scabby the Plague Doctor's Assistant, I already know I'm going to be terrible in the spotlight.
I'm whisked into the performance room for a one-to-one with Mike Davies, the performance trainer at London Dungeons.
"You're a very low status peasant. You're unpredictable, nervous and obsessed," he says, explaining my role.
Set in the 17th century, there's jars of medicine, buckets of blood and scalpels around an examination table with a plastic dead body on top.
Mike demonstrates what I'll be doing as Scabby, and despite him wearing everyday jeans and a T-shirt, he steps into character with ease and quickly frightens me.
"The doctor died last night, plague got him. I do miss him," he says creepily.
I learn that there's a button to work the lighting and sound, which is timed perfectly to match the script - so one wrong line or accidental pause will mess up the flow.
After two intense and quick run-throughs, it's my turn to take to the stage and replace Mike as Scabby.
Thankfully, I'm only performing in front of staff, not members of the public, or I might've passed out.
My mind immediately goes completely blank and I break a sweat as I forget the first line - getting into character is even harder than I thought.
I retrace his steps and remember to stare directly into the eyes of an audience member for exactly four seconds. I press the button that kick starts the sound effects and put on the most sinister voice I can.
"All his insides have turned to mush," I say, pulling out a pulsating heart from his guts.
After I've had my few minutes of fame, Mike jokes, "we are hiring," - though we both know I'd never make it through the auditions.
It's really taken all of the energy out of me and I'm overwhelmed, feeling relieved that I don't have to learn more characters and perform for hours on end like the real actors.
Wiping off my make-up is a bittersweet moment and within minutes, I've swapped the rags for my white tee ready for the commute home.
With a bit of practice, I think I could learn to do my own make-up, but no amount of expert training will get me to London Dungeons standard.
I've realised that you can't just improvise and look spooky, as some visitors might assume.
"It's not just about jumping out and going 'boo', there's a lot of discipline needed to become a scare actor," Richard Quincey, head of performance, tells me.
Richard trained as a musical theatre actor and applied to London Dungeons for a summer stint in 2001 - but after catching the bug, he never left.
"My favourite part is getting to see people's reactions. When they fall to the floor and crawl into a ball, those moments stay with you. It's addictive," he explains.
"Then they laugh and realise they're in a safe space, it's just the best."
Richard says their strict rule of thumb is "don't touch us and we won't touch you", and admits actors target the most frightened people.
"You manage to pinpoint the person in the group who will give you the better reaction. If you know someone will react in a lively way, the rest will become more on edge and a little more heightened," he explains.
Richard recalls his most stand-out experience as a stare actor, when a young child lost a tooth while visiting the dungeons.
"I was worried I'd scared him to the point he'd pulled a whole tooth out, but thankfully it had been wobbly and he was in pain all day. His mum even thanked me," Richard chuckled.
Luckily for me, nobody lost a body part or bone during my stint at London Dungeons, but maybe that's a sign I wasn't cut out for it after all.
