NEW YORK — He's not afraid of working in bloody environments, but Dwayne Sanburn can get squeamish when he thinks about the expectations he faces.

A nurse turned haunted-house operator, Sanburn and others in the business of scaring people face a public that seems to want something bolder each year, all for a season that typically lasts only a month or so.

But keeping up with the Frankensteins isn't easy or cheap. Bedsheets cut to look like ghosts and stock sounds of creaking doors and heavy footsteps no longer suffice, big-time haunters say.

"I see more of a demand from people to see a better show every year," said Sanburn, owner of the 13th Gate Haunted House in Baton Rouge, La. Sanburn, 39, credits the entertainment industry — everything from movies to theme parks — with creating a more demanding public.

"With the large haunted houses, it's not just for kids anymore," Sanburn said. "Ten years ago, all we had were teenagers that would come to the haunted house because they wanted to get scared and have a guy with a chain saw chase them."

His 40,000-square-foot facility, open from late September to early November, has 13 themed indoor and outdoor areas, and on a recent Saturday drew a record 5,000 people. While he charges $15 a head, he spent $260,000 renovating before the season. Like many haunted-house operators, Sanburn said, by the time he recoups his costs, he only makes a profit in the final days.

"You work all year around for those last few nights," he said.

THE HORROR INVENTORY

The numbers involved in running such an operation can be downright scary. Sanburn relies on a staff of about 120 people as well as hundreds of diamondback water snakes, a 7-foot boa constrictor named Esmerelda, an ample cast of rats and enough Madagascar hissing cockroaches to partially cover several apparently unflappable employees.

Larry Kirchner, owner of The Darkness and Creepy World attractions in St. Louis, spent about $175,000 renovating ahead of this season to add such amenities as a cave complete with two waterfalls, a bamboo bridge and a forbidding Inca temple.

"The customers these days expect what they've come to expect from anything in America anymore. You've got to think over the top," Kirchner said.

"When I first started back in 1994, we could put one on for $1,000," said Kirchner, 38. Like Sanburn, he has made a full-time job of running his facilities, expected to draw a combined 70,000 to 80,000 people during the season, which runs from late September to early November.

Many haunted houses change themes each season to give regular customers something new.

"Now you see original story lines, original themes. Nobody has Frankenstein because people would say that's too cheesy," said Kirchner, president of the Haunted House Association, a trade group.

DIGITAL SPOOKERY

Falling technology prices have made more things possible, such as computer-generated ghosts.

"Technology has caught up to where anybody can afford to do Disney-style effects," Kirchner said.

Overall, he said, there are about 3,000 haunted houses in the United States that charge an average of about $10 to $15.

While the price might seem steep to some, people are willing to pay for a good scare, said one haunted-house impresario who by virtue of his name seemed destined to be a creepy hotelier.

Randy Bates, owner of the Bates Motel and Haunted Hayride in Glen Mills, Pa., uses real tombstones in his mock graveyard. Guests wander along a corn trail where costumed employees emerge from among the 14-foot-tall stalks.

"It's like live theater, but you're on stage with the actor," said Bates, who now has attractions stretching over about one-third of his 82-acre farm on which he grows alfalfa, corn and Christmas trees, and raises livestock.

To elicit hearty screams, he estimates he spent $400,000 to $500,000 this year readying the haunted house — the Bates Motel — as well as the corn trail and hayride for the 24 nights he plans to be open this season. Given the tight time line, Bates pays a $2,500 premium for a $40,000 insurance policy for each weekend night in case rain keeps people away.

"I basically have one week in order to make my entire annual salary," he said.

The farm, not far outside Philadelphia, also has a mock strip mall where the scariest thing isn't paying retail, but stores like "Blood, Bath and Beyond" and "Aberzombie and Twitch." Actors, who make up about half his staff of 180, do their part to help scare wary passers-by on the hayride.

Bates, 49, has found the haunting business more lucrative than farming and now draws about 80 percent of his income from it. He estimates his attractions could draw a record 65,000 to 70,000 people this season.

"It's a family farm, and we were looking for ways to supplement the income," he said. "I'm going to be able to give this farm to my kids debt-free."

MORE THAN A SEASONAL JOB

But running a haunted house isn't a frighteningly easy way to make a buck, operators say.

"One of the misconceptions people have is you only work a couple months of the year," Sanburn said. "That couldn't be further from the truth. We were putting in 18- to 20-hour days right before we opened."

Sanburn, who has run a haunted house for 12 years, works on the 13th Gate about nine months of the year.

Kirchner said that in the mid-1990s, many people tried to open haunted houses, only to be daunted by the workload.

"Just like not everybody can be a brain surgeon, not everyone can be a haunter," he said.