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Hell House

Hell House

4.0 148
by Richard Matheson, Ray Porter (Read by)

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All attempts to probe the mysteries of Belasco House have ended in murder, suicide, or insanity--but now a new investigation has been launched, bringing four strangers in search of the ultimate secrets of life and death.


All attempts to probe the mysteries of Belasco House have ended in murder, suicide, or insanity--but now a new investigation has been launched, bringing four strangers in search of the ultimate secrets of life and death.

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Blackstone Audio, Inc.
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Edition description:
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5.30(w) x 7.40(h) x 0.60(d)

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Hell House

By Richard Matheson

Tom Doherty Associates, LLC

Copyright © 1999 Richard Matheson
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-1364-5


DECEMBER 18, 1970

3:17 P.M.

It had been raining hard since five o'clock that morning. Brontean weather, Dr. Barrett thought. He repressed a smile. He felt rather like a character in some latter-day Gothic romance. The driving rain, the cold, the two-hour ride from Manhattan in one of Deutsch's long black leather-upholstered limousines. The interminable wait in this corridor while disconcerted-looking men and women hurried in and out of Deutsch's bedroom, glancing at him occasionally.

He drew his watch from its vest pocket and raised the lid. He'd been here more than an hour now. What did Deutsch want of him? Something to do with parapsychology, most likely. The old man's chain of newspapers and magazines were forever printing articles on the subject. "Return from the Grave"; "The Girl Who Wouldn't Die"—always sensational, rarely factual.

Wincing at the effort, Dr. Barrett lifted his right leg over his left. He was a tall, slightly overweight man in his middle fifties, his thinning blond hair unchanged in color, though his trimmed beard showed traces of white. He sat erect on the straight-back chair, staring at the door to Deutsch's bedroom. Edith must be getting restless downstairs. He was sorry she'd come. Still, he'd had no way of knowing it would take this long.

The door to Deutsch's bedroom opened, and his male secretary, Hanley, came out. "Doctor," he said.

Barrett reached for his cane and, standing, limped across the hallway, stopping in front of the shorter man. He waited while the secretary leaned in through the doorway and announced, "Doctor Barrett, sir." Then he stepped past Hanley, entering the room. The secretary closed the door behind him.

The darkly paneled bedroom was immense. Sanctum of the monarch, Barrett thought as he moved across the rug. Stopping by the massive bed, he looked at the old man sitting in it. Rolf Rudolph Deutsch was eighty-seven, bald, and skeletal, his dark eyes peering out from bony cavities. Barrett smiled. "Good afternoon." Intriguing that this wasted creature ruled an empire, he was thinking.

"You're crippled." Deutsch's voice was rasping. "No one told me that."

"I beg your pardon?" Barrett had stiffened.

"Never mind." Deutsch cut him off. "It's not that vital, I suppose. My people have recommended you. They say you're one of the five best in your field." He drew in laboring breath. "Your fee will be one hundred thousand dollars."

Barrett started.

"Your assignment is to establish the facts."

"Regarding what?" asked Barrett.

Deutsch seemed hesitant about replying, as though he felt it was beneath him. Finally he said, "Survival."

"You want me—?"

"—to tell me if it's factual or not."

Barrett's heart sank. That amount of money would make all the difference in the world to him. Still, how could he in conscience accept it on such grounds?

"It isn't lies I want," Deutsch told him. "I'll buy the answer, either way. So long as it's definitive."

Barrett felt a roil of despair. "How can I convince you, either way?" He was compelled to say it.

"By giving me facts," Deutsch answered irritably.

"Where am I to find them? I'm a physicist. In the twenty years I've studied parapsychology, I've yet to—"

"If they exist," Deutsch interrupted, "you'll find them in the only place on earth I know of where survival has yet to be refuted. The Belasco house in Maine."

"Hell House?"

Something glittered in the old man's eyes.

"Hell House," he said.

Barrett felt a tingling of excitement. "I thought Belasco's heirs had it sealed off after what happened—"

"That was thirty years ago," Deutsch cut him off again. "They need the money now; I've bought the place. Can you be there by Monday?"

Barrett hesitated, then, seeing Deutsch begin to frown, nodded once. "Yes." He couldn't let this chance go by.

"There'll be two others with you," Deutsch said.

"May I ask who—?"

"Florence Tanner and Benjamin Franklin Fischer."

Barrett tried not to show the disappointment he felt. An over-emotive Spiritualist medium, and the lone survivor of the 1940 debacle? He wondered if he dared object. He had his own group of sensitives and didn't see how Florence Tanner or Fischer could be of any help to him. Fischer had shown incredible abilities as a boy, but after his breakdown had obviously lost his gift, been caught in fraud a number of times, finally disappearing from the field entirely. He listened, half-attentive, as Deutsch told him that Florence Tanner would fly north with him, while Fischer would meet them in Maine.

The old man noted his expression. "Don't worry, you'll be in charge," he said; "Tanner's only going because my people tell me she's a first-class medium—"

"But a mental medium," said Barrett.

"—and I want that line of approach employed, as well as yours," Deutsch went on, as though Barrett hadn't spoken. "Fischer's presence is obvious."

Barrett nodded. There was no way out of it, he saw. He'd have to bring up one of his own people after the project was under way. "As to costs—" he started.

The old man waved him off. "Take that up with Hanley. You have unlimited funds."

"And time?"

"That you don't have," Deutsch replied. "I want the answer in a week."

Barrett looked appalled.

"Take it or leave it!" the old man snapped, sudden, naked rage in his expression. Barrett knew he had to accede or lose the opportunity—and there was a chance if he could get his machine constructed in time.

He nodded once. "A week," he said.

3:50 P.M.

Anything else?" asked Hanley.

Barrett reviewed the items in his mind again. A list of all phenomena observed in the Belasco house. Restoration of its electrical system. Installation of telephone service. The swimming pool and steam room made available to him. Barrett had ignored the small man's frown at the fourth item. A daily swim and steam bath were mandatory for him.

"One more item," he said. He tried to sound casual but felt that his excitement showed. "I need a machine. I have the blueprints for it at my apartment."

"How soon will you need it?" Hanley asked.

"As soon as possible."

"Is it large?"

Twelve years, Barrett thought. "Quite large," he said.

"That's it?"

"All I can think of at the moment. I haven't mentioned living facilities, of course."

"Enough rooms have been renovated for your use. A couple from Caribou Falls will prepare and deliver your meals." Hanley seemed about to smile. "They've refused to sleep in the house."

Barrett stood. "It's just as well. They'd only be in the way."

Hanley walked him toward the library door. Before they reached it, it was opened sharply by a stout man, who glared at Barrett. Although he was forty years younger and a hundred pounds heavier, William Reinhardt Deutsch bore an unmistakable resemblance to his father.

He shut the door. "I'm warning you right now," he said, "I'm going to block this thing."

Barrett stared at him.

"The truth," Deutsch said. "This is a waste of time, isn't it? Put it in writing, and I'll make you out a check for a thousand dollars right now."

Barrett tightened. "I'm afraid—"

"There's no such thing as the supernatural, is there?" Deutsch's neck was reddening.

"Correct," said Barrett. Deutsch began to smile in triumph. "The word is 'supernormal. 'Nature cannot be transcen—"

"What the hell's the difference?" interrupted Deutsch. "It's superstition, all of it!"

"I'm sorry, but it isn't." Barrett started past him. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Deutsch caught his arm. "Now, look, you better drop this thing. I'll see you never get that money—"

Barrett pulled his arm free. "Do what you will," he said. "I'll proceed until I hear otherwise from your father."

He closed the door and started down the corridor. In light of present knowledge, his mind addressed Deutsch, anyone who chooses to refer to psychic phenomena as superstition simply isn't aware of what's going on in the world. The documentation is immense—

Barrett stopped and leaned against the wall. His leg was starting to ache again. For the first time, he allowed himself to recognize what a strain on his condition it might be to spend a week in the Belasco house.

What if it was really as bad as the two accounts claimed it was?

4:37 P.M.

The Rolls-Royce sped along the highway toward Manhattan.

"That's an awful lot of money." Edith still sounded incredulous.

"Not to him," said Barrett. "Especially when you consider that what he's paying for is an assurance of immortality."

"But he must know that you don't believe—"

"I'm sure he does," Barrett interrupted. He didn't want to consider the possibility that Deutsch hadn't been told. "He's not the sort of man who goes into anything without being totally informed."

"But a hundred thousand dollars."

Barrett smiled. "I can scarcely believe it myself," he said. "If I were like my mother, I'd undoubtedly consider this a miracle from God. The two things I've failed to accomplish both supplied at once—an opportunity to prove my theory, and provision for our later years. Really, I could ask no more."

Edith returned his smile. "I'm happy for you, Lionel," she said.

"Thank you, my dear." He patted her hand.

"Monday afternoon, though." Edith looked concerned. "That doesn't give us too much time."

Barrett said, "I'm wondering if I shouldn't go alone on this one."

She stared at him.

"Well, not alone, of course," he said. "There are the two others."

"What about your meals?"

"They'll be provided. All I'll have to do is work."

"I've always helped you, though," she said.

"I know. It's just that—"


He hesitated. "I'd rather you weren't along this time, that's all."

"Why, Lionel?" She looked uneasy when he didn't answer. "Is it me?"

"Of course not." Barrett's smile was quick, distracted. "It's the house."

"Isn't it just another so-called haunted house?" she asked, using his phrase.

"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—Benjamin Fischer, one of the two who'll be with me.

"It's not that I fear the ultimate effect of the house," he continued, trying to ameliorate his words. "I have confidence in what I know. It's simply that the details of the investigation may be"—he shrugged—"a little nasty."

"And yet you want me to let you go there alone?"

"My dear—"

"What if something happens to you?"

"Nothing will."

"What if it does? With me in New York, and you in Maine?"

"Edith, nothing's going to happen."

"Then there's no reason I can't go." She tried to smile. "I'm not afraid, Lionel."

"I know you're not."

"I won't get in your way."

Barrett sighed.

"I know I don't understand much of what you're doing, but there are always things I can do to help. Pack and unload your equipment, for instance. Help you set up your experiments. Type the rest of your manuscript; you said you wanted to have it ready by the first of the year. And I want to be with you when you prove your theory."

Barrett nodded. "Let me think about it."

"I won't be in your way," she promised. "And I know there are any number of things I can do to help."

He nodded again, trying to think. It was obvious she didn't want to stay behind. He could appreciate that. Except for his three weeks in London in 1962, they'd never been separated since their marriage. Would it really hurt that much to take her? Certainly, she'd experienced enough psychic phenomena by now to be accustomed to it.

Still, that house was such an unknown factor. It hadn't been called Hell House without reason. There was a power there strong enough to physically and/or mentally demolish eight people, three of whom had been scientists like himself.

Even believing that he knew exactly what that power was, dare he expose Edith to it?


DECEMBER 20, 1970

10:39 P.M.

Florence Tanner crossed the yard which separated her small house from the church and walked along the alley to the street. She stood on the sidewalk and gazed at her church. It was only a converted store, but it had been everything to her these past six years. She looked at the sign in the painted window: TEMPLE OF SPIRITUAL HARMONY. She smiled. It was indeed. Those six years had been the most spiritually harmonious of her life.

She walked to the door, unlocked it, and went inside. The warmth felt good. Shivering, she turned on the wall lamp in the vestibule. Her eye was caught by the bulletin board:

Sunday Services—11:00 a.m., 8:00 p.m.

Healing and Prophecy—Tuesdays, 7:45 p.m.

Lectures and Spirit Greetings—Wednesdays, 7:45 p.m.

Messages and Revelations—Thursdays, 7:45 p.m.

Holy Communion—1st Sunday of Month

She turned and gazed at her photograph tacked to the wall, the printed words above it: The Reverend Florence Tanner. For several moments she was pleased to be reminded of her beauty. Forty-three, she still retained it unimpaired, her long red hair untouched by grayness, her tall, Junoesque figure almost as trim as it had been in her twenties. She smiled in self-depreciation then. Vanity of vanities, she thought.

She went into the church, walked along the carpeted aisle, and stepped onto the platform, taking a familiar pose behind the lectern. She looked at the rows of chairs, the hymnals set on every third one. She visualized her congregation sitting before her. "My dears," she murmured.

She had told them at the morning and evening services. Told them of the need for her to be away from them for the next week. Told them of the answer to their prayers—the means to build a true church on their own property. Asked them to pray for her while she was gone.

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 prayer completed, Florence lifted her head and gazed at her church. She loved it deeply. Still, to be able to build a real church for her congregation was truly a gift from heaven. And at Christmastime ... She smiled, eyes glistening with tears.

God was good.

11:17 P.M.

Edith finished brushing her teeth and gazed at her reflection in the mirror—at her short-cut auburn hair, her strong, almost masculine features. Her expression was a worried one. Disturbed by the sight of it, she switched off the bathroom light and returned to the bedroom.

Lionel was asleep. She sat on her bed and looked at him, listening to the sound of his heavy breathing. Poor dear, she thought. There had been so much to do. By ten o'clock he'd been exhausted, and she'd made him go to bed.

Edith lay on her side and continued looking at him. She'd never seen him so concerned before. He'd made her promise that she'd never leave his side once they'd entered the Belasco house. Could it be that bad? She'd been to haunted houses with Lionel and never been frightened. He was always so calm, so confident; it was impossible to be afraid when he was near.

Yet, he was disturbed enough about the Belasco house to make an issue of her staying by his side at all times. Edith shivered. Would her presence harm him? Would looking after her use up so much of his limited energy that his work would suffer? She didn't want that. She knew how much his work meant to him.

Still, she had to go. She'd face anything rather than be alone. She'd never told Lionel how close she'd come to a mental breakdown during those three weeks he'd been gone in 1962. It would only have distressed him, and he'd needed all his concentration for the work he was doing. So she'd lied and sounded cheerful on the telephone the three times he'd called—and, alone, she'd wept and shaken, taken tranquilizers, hadn't slept or eaten, lost thirteen pounds, fought off compulsions to end it all. Met him at the airport finally, pale and smiling, told him that she'd had the flu.

Edith closed her eyes and drew her legs up. She couldn't face that again. The worst haunted house in the world threatened her less than being alone.

11:41 P.M.

He couldn't sleep. Fischer opened his eyes and looked around the cabin of Deutsch's private plane. Strange to be sitting in an armchair in an airplane, he thought. Strange to be sitting in an airplane at all. He'd never flown in his life.

Fischer reached for the coffeepot and poured himself another cupful. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and picked up one of the magazines lying on the coffee table in front of him. It was one of Deutsch's. What else? he thought.


Excerpted from Hell House by Richard Matheson. Copyright © 1999 Richard Matheson. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates, LLC.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

Meet the Author

Richard Matheson, legendary writer of the science-fiction, fantasy, and horror genres, has contributed classics in many media, including novels (The Incredible Shrinking Man), television (The Twilight Zone), and film (Somewhere in Time). He has won many prestigious awards over his long career and has been called "one of the most important writers of the twentieth century" by Ray Bradbury.

Ray Porter has appeared in numerous films and television shows, including Frasier, ER, Will & Grace, The Suite Life of Zack and Cody, and Almost Famous. A fifteen-year veteran of the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, he lives in Los Angeles with his wife and son.

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Hell House 4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 148 reviews.
Guest More than 1 year ago
'Hell House' is a classic example of a great haunted house novel. The characters are good and react to each other realistically in every situation from calm moments to situations involving extreme paranormal behavior. Matheson doesn't pull any punches when it comes to the extreme and violent nature of the evil entities in Hell House. Overall, it is a good, traditional haunted house novel. But, be warned: The events that take place in Matheson's Hell House are very extreme at times and may be a little disturbing for people looking for just a quick horror novel to read. In any case, if you want all the scares; violent attacks from spirits, seances, mediums channeling evil forces and a gigantic old house which all that I have listed, and more, takes place, read this book.
Guest More than 1 year ago
If you like horror stories, then this is a book to read! But to warn anyone who cannot handle truly extreme stories for various reasons, then I would stay away from it. Sections from this book become very intense and deep in discription. The describes the house in so much depth, that it could give some people the chills. There are also some parts the author describes that would be rather disturbing to some individuals. But in all, for horror lovers everywhere, this story is a must!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I was just too curious and had to read this one. Evil is brutal and vile, in this book it is confronted and you must slog through all the brutal and vile details to appreciate the story. All in all a good read but difficult to not feel repulsed by the goings on. Which of course is the point.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I loved this book . I have the movie the legend of hell house so i wanted to read the book that it was based on. The best haunted house book ever written . Richard matheson is brilliant.
jjjccc More than 1 year ago
I am a huge horror movie and horror book fan, I just loved being scared. However, this book didn't do it for me. There are parts that are definitely creepy, but I expected more from it. I could've also done without some of the sexually explicit parts of the story, I thought that was just gross and unnecessary but I guess that's what freaked most of the readers out. It's a toss up, if you like horror books you may like this.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Much better than the movie - a good supernatural thriller.
drakevaughn More than 1 year ago
Wow. Hell House stands the test of time. By far, the best haunted house story I’ve ever read. Matheson was at his peek and delivered a terrifying tale filled with realistic characters and shocking descriptions. Loved every page. So he nicked a lot from Shirley Jackson, but he did so with style. Easily one of the top ten horror novels ever written.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Was blown away by this book the 1st time I read it. Somehow lost the 1st copy I'd had, so I bought another. Foolishly let someone borrow it, & it looks like I'm not gonna get it back. I hope this time I bet to hang on to it for awhile! This is one of the few books I can read repeatedly without tiring of it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I found this book in an old collection my father has and was interested by the over view on the back of the book. The book starts to go slow, but as soon as they enter the house the action picks up. Very good book, but not tje best for a personwho has just found intrest in horror. The book makes you look deep inside your self, down to the deepest corners you never knew existed. A lot better than I Am Lengend though.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I never knew there had been a book and not just the movie. If you liked the old move read Hell house. GREAT
books77 More than 1 year ago
The original movie, in black and white, is a great scare; follows the book quite well. This story has always been one of my favorites.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is a good book well written and quite creepy in some instances but if you dont like reading horror i do not recomend this book i am 14 and i got a little creed out reading this book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This book is a lot of fun to read. It has a great pace that always keeps you guessing. I really like how everyone goes in the house on purpose knowing what they are doing. The characters are also well developed with completely contrasting points of view. You could sum it up by saying this is a great guilty pleasure and a fast read.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I wanted to read a samle but they only give you 10 pages none of which contain any story. Its bibliography and dedication page and title page and a few blank pages. Waste of time.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Everthing a classic horror novel needs. This book is one of my favorites!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Good thanks for the chill.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
First book of his I have read and the images he creates and concepts really stick with me. Well written and unique, but wow, extremely messed up.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Very good book, but not what I was expecting. Being a classic, well known horror, it was on my "must read" list. I think I was expecting a cross between The Exorcist and Amityville, this is nowhere near that type of horror. Those well versed in horror will understand that it's a tale where you can appreciate the horror behind the story, but it's not something that will keep you from reading alone in the dark, in your bedroom. Very happy I read it and recommend it to all!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Definitely kept me wanting to read!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I enjoyed this book.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
If you hear a humming noise whenever you pick up this book, it's just Shirley Jackson turning over in her grave. "The Haunting of Hill House" makes this book look like the bargain bin rip-off that it is. "Hell House" is a big "Ho hum" from the beginning: stock characters, predictable plot, and mind-numbing prose. In contrast, Shirley Jackson's book will make you want to sleep with the lights on. . .if you can sleep at all. Save your money, forget this pale imitation, and go straight for one of the best ghost stories ever written: "The Haunting of Hill House."
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
I really liked it, the whole thing, it was scary in parts but very insightful book!
Giselle Peck More than 1 year ago
I had just been introduced to this author and knew he was a horror writer, but i had no idea how scared i would be while reading this. It is the type of story you have to let yourself get lost in...then the true horror will manifest itself through your imagination and this author's truly gifted writing! Very cool!
David Lorsch More than 1 year ago
The story still holds up today. Very scary and creepy. Wonderfuly written. Might make you sleep with the lights on.
MartinaCh More than 1 year ago
I read ghost stories from time to time and this one is a nerve wrecker...would recommend this for the originality and the incredible story plot; just stay put when you read...got me nervous and I had to put the book down many times..