It was dark in the mansion, though outside the cloister the sky was an even midnight blue over the topmost gables of the house. Shadows hung down the four stories of the mansion itself, where only here and there a shape distinguished itself, boughs heavy with apricots, and those lilies flickering in the dark, like waxen candles. And here and there, behind the many-paned windows was the glimmer of candles. Mrs. Winchester found herself found herself standing alone in the parlor this winter night. She was tired and hungry, more deeply chilled than she had known till she started several blazing fires in the fireplaces in one rambling section of the mansion called the Hall of Fires. The mansion has forty-seven fireplaces and seventeen chimneys. The Hall of Fires was designed to produce as much heat as possible. The three adjoining rooms have four fireplaces and three hot air registers from the coal furnace in the basement. This evening, Mrs. Winchester was sick of perpetually treading stairs. The room was full of flowers. Flowers everywhere, not in senseless profusion, but placed with the same conscious art as in her Victorian gardens. How the flowers could survive all the heat was unknown to anyone. A vase of arums stood on the writing table, a cluster of strange-hued carnations on the stand at her elbow, and from bowls of glass and porcelain clumps of freesia bulbs diffused their melting fragrance. A few hours passed, and Mrs. Winchester was rejoicing at the prospect of food. She sat out to make her way to the dining room. She had not noticed the direction she had followed this evening in going to the dining room, and was puzzled, to find two news staircases, of apparently equal importance, inviting her. #RandolphHarris 1 of 10
She chose the one to her right, and reached, at its foot, a long gallery. The gallery was empty, the doors down its length were closed. The room Mrs. Winchester entered was square, with dusky picture-hung walls. In its center, about a table lit by veiled lamps, there were apparitions already seated at dinner; then she perceived that the table was covered not with food but with papers, and she was invited into what seemed to be a meeting full of plans to expand her mansion. From the end of the table, Mrs. Winchester was greeted by an apparition with a smile which displayed a glance of impartial benevolence. “Certainly. Come in, Mrs. Winchester. If you won’t think it a liberty—” Carmelita, another apparition who sat opposite the host Coleman, turned her head toward the door. “Of course, Mrs. Winchester’s and American citizen?” Coleman laughed. “That’s all right! Oh, no, not one of your pin-pointed pens, Carmelita! Haven’t you got a quill somewhere?” Mrs. Winchester said, “No need to fuss. I have my quill right here.” Mrs. Winchester dipped her quill in the inkstand and dashed the plans the spirits gave her to expand the mansion on her lovely Edwardian linen dinner napkins. Mrs. Winchester, understanding what was expected of her, stood awaiting more instructions. Coleman was about to let Carmelita have a turn at the blueprint instructions; but he said in his sad imprisoned voice: “The Switchback Staircase–?” Mrs. Winchester continued, glancing about the table. #RandolphHarris 2 of 10
Coleman then said, “to reduce the effort of treading stairs, I propose a Switchback Staircase which will include 44 stairs, two inches in height, with 7 complete turns, that will travel 100 feet!” Mrs. Winchester sketched the details on her napkin and she continued to smile on her guests, then turned from the room and ran upstairs. The impression was so starling that Mrs. Winchester forgot what was going on about her. She was just dimly aware of living the dining room and being transferred back to the Hall of Fires. With a deadly sense of being unable to move, or even understand what she was doing, when she stood up from her chair which was near a warm fireplace—a strange weight of fatigue came on all her limbs—and there was a figure behind her chair. Then it suddenly disappeared. Mrs. Winchester felt an immediate sense of relief. It was puzzling that the man’s exit should have been so rapid and noiseless, but at any rate he was gone, and with this withdrawal the strange weight was lifted. Everything suddenly seemed to have grown natural and simple again, and Mrs. Winchester found herself responding with a smile. As she gazed out of the window, the sky deepened. The garden changed. The apricot tree beyond the arch, once full with shadow, had not lost its shape. Nothing could be seen of the fountain, nothing of the white lilies. And those lights in one of the wings of her mansion had the only clarity now, so many beacons in the dark. #RandolphHarris 3 of 10
Mrs. Winchester decided to walk through her enormous and only half-lit living room, along a short hallway, into a den with rich teak paneling and a copper ceiling. The maroon leather armchairs and couch were expensive and comfortable. The polished teak desk was massive, and detailed of a five-masted schooner, all sails rigged, stood on the corner. Nautical items—a ship’s wheel, a brass sextant, a carved bullock’s horned filled with tallow that held sail-making needles, six types of ship lanterns, a helmsman’s bell, and sea charts—used a as decoration. Mrs. Winchester opened a book. She curled up in one of the arm chairs. She felt a lump of emotion in her throat, and entity seemed to have followed her. She then found herself in an echoing hall with a high ceiling, bare except for a long, pew bench, a table, and old portraits of popes upon the walls. She had never seen this portion of her mansion before. There were bad things. Shadows. Big, black shadows. There was someone there but she could not see him properly. He kept changing. There were noises too. They were all over the house. They were up in the ceiling and in the walls. Really scary stuff. Like there were animals there. The demon showed her stuff. He showed her what her house would look like ten years from this night. He showed her a vision of the nine-story tower. Behind this vision was a fragment of a yellow mansion that looked a lot like the one she was currently living in. Next, the demon taught Mrs. Winchester to say a prayer. It was simple. #RandolphHarris 4 of 10
As her eyes roved around the room with dark paneling and the somber paintings of ancient martyrs, the demon’s hand was moving rapidly over a book. Mrs. Winchester watched with astonishment and a creeping disquiet as the quill traveled over the pages. The words the demon was writing—though English they were—made no sense at all. The demon continued to write frantically. Then all at once he stopped. He seemed to relax and he calmly turned to the next page. Mrs. Winchester went to get the book and the demon calmly turned to the next page. His body had tensed again and the frantic writing continued. She tried to lift his wrist, but was shocked to discover that his arm and the hand that held the quill were quite immovable, as if made of stone. Mrs. Winchester watched in horror as the writing, clear and then illegible by turns, started pouring out filthy words and phrases that had no place in the presence of a woman. There were drawings too: symbols of archangels and pentagrams. She knew one of the symbols to be Aspenjargack. This demon wields and withholds the rain, each drop being a desire of the sorcerer. She knew this must be the demon who was communicating with her. She tried to leave the room, but her body remained in a rigid seated position as the demon continued to make frantic writing motions in midair. Mrs. Winchester then acknowledged that this was a powerful force. #RandolphHarris 5 of 10
A week later, Mrs. Winchester started experiencing other paranormal activity in her home. She was awaken by the sound of a screw being unscrewed and falling to the floor. When she got up to inspect the noise, there were several shadowy manifestations; they were present in her bedroom and in other parts of the house. She was shown visions of hell, saw demons of abominable form lurking in her hallway, heard voices. Her ancient blood was flowing faster. She was tarrying to see what would happen next—to see what the conjurer had up his sleeve. Mrs. Winchester heard a loud thud from downstairs. It had come from the one of the living rooms. It was a loud thud of an object falling from a height. She ventured downstairs. All was quiet; she heard nothing but her own rapid breathing. Gingerly, Mrs. Winchester turned the key to the living room door. In one deft movement, it flung wide open. She pushed the light switch and stood in the doorway, staring in astonishment. The Grandfather clock lay on the floor. On the mantel-piece the crystal candleholders were laid out like a crucifix. The room had been locked. There was no sign of forced entry. The fright Mrs. Winchester experienced was unimaginable. The house was telling Mrs. Winchester something. It was drawing Mrs. Winchester’s attention to itself, showing her what it could do. Later that evening, Mrs. Winchester was sipping her tea when she heard some hammering on the wall. It was so sudden and fierce, it made her drop her cup. Mrs. Winchester figure it was the carpenters working on the house. However, she was sure they were on dinner break. #RandolphHarris 6 of 10
Without further thought, she cleaned up the mess she had made. She was in her bedroom when she heard the noise again. However, now the noises seemed more urgent and were somehow more deliberate and purposeful. There was something eerie about the patter of sound as it traveled to various points on the wall, each time repeating a succession of what she could only describe as hammer blows. Mrs. Winchester was becoming uneasy. She hurried from the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Once downstairs, she had an odd sense of foreboding. The feeling was made all the more powerful when, she heard echoes coming from a cabinet. The finest cabinetmakers had toiled for years, using richly polished roods, to create built-in chests with deep drawers and tremendous bins and lockers. Inside were store the rarest satins and silks; hand-embroidered linens from China, Ireland, and Germany; and bolt upon bolt of elegantly woven cloth from Persia and India. However, when she opened this particular cabinet, she noticed it had become a doorway that went straight to the back of the house where she discovered thirty new rooms had been built within hours, and all fully furnished. There were stained-glass doors, crystal chandeliers, French Provincial sofas, beautiful drapes, and Persian rugs. Perhaps the carpenters were shy men who did not want to be disturbed. As astonishing at this was, she was turning to go back upstairs. However, something in the newly fashioned sixth kitchen caught her eyes. #RandolphHarris 7 of 10
Shielding her eyes against the glare of daylight and peering more closely, Mrs. Winchester tried to come to terms with the inexplicable. Right in the middle of the pine floor was a lighted candle in a small brass holder, and next to it an open book. It is were more blueprints and plans to further expand the estate. Yet, the mansion was not done with surprises. Mrs. Winchester heard some movement on the 7-11 staircase. What she took to be a bright blue ball of light was swiftly descending. It moved away with such speed. She moved a little forward and made out that she was looking into a room full of paintings! On the walls were mounted immense pictures. In the distance they seemed finished and alive: clusters of biblical faces and forms surely as perfected as those that covered all the palaces and churches in which she had ever been. There was Saint Michael the Archangel, his face subtly illuminated by the fire below. And beside him was a picture of an unknown saint, a woman with a crucifix clasped to her chest. The colours pulsed in the light. And all of these pictures seemed darker, more solemn, than those she had known. She could hear little sounds from the room. The stillness of the garden, its concealing darkness, gave her that delicious feeling of being invisible, and she drew even closer now. The chill in Mrs. Winchester grew icier. The atmosphere in the room was subtly changing. Mrs. Winchester found the words “HIDE HERE NOW” scrawled in blood on the wall. Other mysterious symbols appeared on the walls of the living room, kitchen, and hallway. #RandolphHarris 8 of 10
Evil invariably comes with coldness. A door had been opened by restless spirits. Evil is not a word which can be defined on its own, nor is the use of the word devil. It should be added that there is a function of Satan. Satan is the tester; he has a pretty awful job to do which is not as the evil devil figure portrayed in the Christian religion. Satan within Judaism is not the devil; his job is to operate on the Tree of Life to make sure that people do not progress through the stages towards perfection until they have managed to purify themselves to make sure that nobody gatecrashed until they have worked hard enough and developed their life, that they do not get up the Tree until they have achieved total purification. The Christian definition of the devil sometimes is just an explanation for human nature that no one wants to own as their free will. That is not to say that evil entities do not exist. They can exist in the same way that any spiritual entities exist; they are a projection of the course a person’s superconsciousness or subconscious takes. Evil and good are two forces bearing down; they are a whole, a question of balance. O thou great powerful governor Amaimon, who reigneth exalted in the power of the only El above all spirits in the kingdoms of the East (South, West, North), I invoke and move thee in the name of the true God, and in God whom thou worshippest: and in the seal of thy creation: and in the mighty names of God, Iehevhe Tetragrammaton, who cast down from Heaven, thou and the spirits of darkness, and in al the names of the mighty God who is the creator of Heaven and Earth, and the dwelling of darkness, and all things and in their power and brightness; and in the name Primeumaton who reigns over the palaces of Heaven. #RandolphHarris 9 of 10
Bring forth, I say, the Spirit of Sarah L. Winchester; bring her forth in the 24th of a moment let her dwelling be empty until she returns to the Winchester Mansion and visits us in peace, speaking the secrets of truth; until she returns to us and obeys our power and her creation in the power of God, El, who is the Creator and doth dispose of all things, Heaven, firmament, Earth, and the dwelling or darkness. Cross all space and time and rise up within that we may compel the rise of the fallen ones. Formulate spiritual armor with this energy as well. Allow us to become the composite image of the powers of Darkness within the World however that may be conveyed through us as individuals. What protector is needed by us O Ahriman, for we are the God of our World! Though the oppression of tyrants attempts to encompass us, the blackened fire of spirit and sorcery works through our evil minds to improve our desires upon the corporal realm of stasis and limitation. May the power of darkness eternal be revealed through us now. Send forth Divs and Druj to reside within this Winchester Mansion with the power of darkness. Open the gates to other dimensions and allow the supernatural to manifest. Exorcise thy limits which enslave! I know banish and tear the powers of spiritual limitation from imposing its limits upon the Winchester Manion, expelling them from the Winchester Manion in the name of eternal darkness and all of its power and glory! Reveal the Black Sun and allow us to perceive the unseen planes and the sorcerous words of power. #RandolphHarris 10 of 10
Winchester Mystery House
Randolph Harris II International 