Hell House

It was the summer between seventh and eight grade. I was thirteen years old and looking for books to read. I was staying up to five in the morning and sleeping 'till noon. Of course, my mom didn't like that but I wanted to read! So I did anyway.

I had gotten a gift card for whatever various reason and was waiting to spend it. It was about three in the morning and I wanted to read a horror story. I guess I was just in that kind of mood.

I found one named "Hell House." I read the synopsis and it sounded like your stereotypical haunted house story. If I know anything about me, it's that I like stereotypical books.

So I bought it and started reading it. It all started out the same, haunted house in the middle of the swamp. A group was going there to rid the house of its demons. The usual.

Until I got about a fourth through it. They started getting possessed, which is still normal enough. Except that the ghosts, when they possessed the people, would make them rape each other. Men on men, women on men, every combination you can think of.

Well that was a surprise for thirteen year old me.

Did I stop?

No…

It was my little rebellion to my over bearing mother; my little secret to keep away with her. It's not like I was getting any "pleasure" from the book, besides the fact that it was enjoyable to read. (Besides the sex scenes.)

A woman was even impaled by the phallus on the Jesus nailed to the cross in the church.

Let's just say: I've not forgotten a scene from that book.