Hell House

by Richard Matheson

“I’m afraid it isn’t,” he admitted. “It’s the Mount Everest of haunted houses, you might say. There were two attempts to investigate it, one in 1931, the other in 1940. Both were disasters. Eight people involved in those attempts were killed, committed suicide, or went insane. Only one survived, and I have no idea how sound he is

Florence clasped her hands on the lectern and closed her eyes. Her lips moved slightly as she prayed for the strength to cleanse the Belasco house. It had such a dreadful history of death and suicide and madness. It was a house most horribly defiled. She prayed to end its curse.

The worst haunted house in the world threatened her less than being alone.

They’d found him lying on the front porch of the house that morning in September 1940, naked, curled up like a fetus, shivering and staring into space. When they’d put him on a stretcher, he’d begun to scream and vomit blood, his muscles knotting, rocklike. He’d lain in a coma three months in the Caribou Falls Hospital.

Why does this man even want to go back ?

“He’s an old man,” Barrett said. “He’s thinking about dying, and wants to believe it isn’t the end.”

“Why is it called Hell House?” Edith asked. “Because its owner, Emeric Belasco, created a private hell there,” Barrett told her.

in shock as she saw that the figure of Jesus was naked, an enormous phallus jutting upward from between the legs.

They didnt have to expose jesus like that smh

“Still am, Florence. Just a little bit more careful now, that’s all. I suggest the same approach for you. You’re walking around this house like an open nerve. When you really do hit something, it’ll tear your insides out. This place isn’t called Hell House for nothing, you know. It intends to kill every one of us, so you’d damn well better learn to protect yourself until you’re ready. Or you’ll just be one more victim on the list.”

“No offense intended. But the evidence is clear that belief in communication with the dead has led more people to madness than to peace of mind.”

“An alternative far more interesting, albeit far more complex and demanding; namely, the subliminal self, that vast, concealed expanse of the human personality which, iceberglike, inheres beneath the so-called threshold of consciousness.

“ ‘His teeth are those of a carnivore. When he bares them in a smile, it gives one the impression of an animal snarling. His face is white, for he despises the sun, eschews the out-of-doors. He has astonishingly green eyes, which seem to possess an inner light of their own. His forehead is broad, his hair and short-trimmed beard jet black. Despite his handsomeness, his is a frightening visage, the face of some demon who has taken on a human aspect’

“Just watch your step,” he cut her off. “The Lord may not have too much influence in Hell House.”

Florence looked at Fischer, caught his eye, and smiled at him. He did not return it. Idiots, he thought. Some bulbs go on, and they all think the danger’s over.

Yet, always, behind the mask—the face that Hell House had created—cowered the boy; wanting to flee, but incapable of doing so; wanting love, but finding only license.

The progression was remarkably smooth; it happens that way sometimes. A God-given appearance, a combination of fortunate events.”

It isn’t the business that matters, but the corruptibility of those who enter it.

“Don’t you see?” she asked him eagerly. “They’re warring together, Daniel trying to escape from Hell House, his father doing everything he can to prevent it by trying to turn me against Daniel, trying to make me believe that Daniel means me harm, when he doesn’t. When all he wants is—” She stopped so quickly that Fischer’s eyes narrowed. “Wants what?” he asked. “My help.” “That’s not what you were going to say.” “Yes, it was. I’m the only one who can help. I’m the only one he trusts. Don’t you see?” Fischer eyed her guardedly. “I hope I do,”

They had barely scratched the surface of Hell House. A massive sense of hopelessness assailed her. She tried to fight it off but found it impossible.

He was not as confident as he had been. He’d been trying to conceal it from her but she knew his conviction had been badly shaken by the occurrence in the steam room.

She felt life draining from her. She was escaping. Daniel couldn’t hurt her now. Feeling had begun to leave; pain was fading. God would forgive her self-destruction. It was what she had to do. Her lips drew back in a surrendering smile. He would understand.