Here haunts eternally the curse of the Winchester fortune; here lives the mysteries of the fruit orchards, harbinger of spirits; many voices may echo, among the Queen Anne Victorian mansion, but perhaps none more curious than the mischievous demons. No region in the West is richer in legend than my home. The tales of The Winchester Mansion range in subject-matter from buried treasure to black arts, secret passageways and portals to other Worlds. An opening into a mysterious passageway may be seen behind one of the 47 fireplaces. However, where the tunnel leads in its subterranean wanderings none can say, for its walls have caved in not far from the entrance and its secret is buried. I had this tunnel as an emergency entrance and to my mansion. I kept my horses there shod backward to deceive the foeman who might study their tracks. The ghost of this spot is the specter of a huge dog with wolfen teeth, glittering eyes, and a jet coat that here comes back from a dog-pound beyond the grave to plague the servants at midnight. Inside the gate of my estate is the undying spell of blooming roses, plush green trees, emerald green lawns, flowers the color of gems, elegant statues, and the sun makes a dazzling spectacle of the sea green mansion. The orchards are abloom with the promise of a fruitful harvest, but at night, one passes through the gate into the twilight of the great shadowy mansion and its encircling walls, and one feels ice cold hands taking hold of them, a certain death none can excel, as the door is opened to Heaven or Hell. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
People wander through the doors to areas where visions of spirit orbs and spectral children dwell; where long dead residents or perhaps soldiers, true to their duty unto death (and beyond) still practice their lives and manifest themselves by talking, touching and interacting with employees and visitors alike. Once a tunnel ran from the nine story observation tower to the basement. Thence it led to the fields. Its entrances were eventually blocked by fallen stone. I have led guest to the well beneath the observation tower and pause impressively to drop a stone into it. Long afterward the faint tinkle of a splash comes echoing back. The shaft of the surface is far below the surface. The mile-long tunnel was cut deep in the rock by men with considerable patience and ingenuity. As you enter the house, it certainly does not look haunted, but in that first room a number of dark, unexplainable, paranormal events have occurred. One night I was alone in the house. The place was quiet…until I heard something entirely out of place. Echoing softly from the dark stairwell across the room—and apparently across decades of time as well—came footsteps. I herd them lightly descend, one step at a time, and could actually follow the sounds, as the footfalls came slowly down the stairs and stopped at the bottom. I peered into the darkened hall, but saw no one. I bravely walked around the desk and cautiously peeked around the corner to the foot of the stairs. No one—at least no one visible—was there. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Two hours later, my eager ears detected nothing ghostly or grisly in the unseen aura. There was the soughing of the pines, the solemn organ tone of the mountain breeze and a faint whistle of an air current somewhere. Letting my mind wander a bit, unknowingly putting my mind in a state where it was more receptive to the supernatural. Slowly from the darkness at the bottom of the stairs, out of nothing, there materialized a small boy age 6 or 7. He had blonde hair, and was wearing a light shirt with dark pants and suspenders. He stood there, looing into the front room, at the oddly out-of-place (at least to him) desk. Then, as suddenly as he had entered this strange World, he left it, before my eyes could pick up any more detail of what was clearly an impossibility anywhere else but in “The Winchester Mansion.” At night, the silence is engendered by the ghostly sounds of a phantom horn and the eerie baying of the devil’s bloodhounds. For many years, a ghostly man on a horse has been riding through these shadowy glens and over the fields, scarcely an arrow-shot ahead of the hellhounds that seek his soul. And the wild chase must continue until Judgement Day. One evening when I was in the restroom, no sooner than I entered, the handle of the door began to rattle and squeak. As I stood there, rinsing my hands and watching it, the knob of the sink began to slowly and methodically twist. After I dried my hands and threw open the door to discover the perpetrator–no one was there. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
My home, The Winchester Mansion, was still considered as a mythical abode of devil-nurtured nightriders. The stern tower that crown the mansion act as monuments to a great house. The spirits that dreamt of them were imaginative and resourceful, as were the carpenters who built the historical achievement. Might has been sculptured in their designing and they suggestive a glorious wealth. The mansion stands intact, a splendid mass of wall and buttress, rampart and turret, crowing a gentle slope in the middle of a peaceful valley, like a living illustration of royalty. But sometimes the spirits play sad havoc with treasures. Here is a wreck of a broken crystal from a massive chandelier, rotting leather, tattered and faded tapestry. The echoing of smashing glass as one walk the otherwise well-kept corridors sounds like a demonic war long ago. My homes has become qualified in some special way to form a link between the living and the dead. I see more than dreamlike apparitions, I hear voices, and receive visions of truth. More than that, my soul sometimes leaves my body to go wandering. I have assembled a séance room for the opportunity of hearing messages from departed loved ones. During séances, I have made contact with the spirits of deceased men and women in another World. However, the concept of an eternal soul is steadily eroded by an emphasis on brain cells, conditioned responses, and memory patterns that could exit only while the body remains alive. I have conducted many séances and eternal life has been proved to me. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
During one séance, I sensed the presence of a spirit. The room was by no means dark. A few candles gave enough light for me to clearly distinguish the shape of a small girl materializing beside me. The spirit girl came up beside me and grabbed my hand. Her flesh was somewhat cooler than that of a living human. She reminded me of my precious Annie. I touched her silken hair, and was able to hear her heart beat. When I asked the spirit girl what the spirit World was like, she did not respond to any of the questions. However, when I asked if she missed and loved her mother, the rapidly responded with “Yes.” This caused me to weep. It was such a deeply emotional moment. After what seemed like just a few moments, the spirit girl, whom I believed to by my precious daughter Annie, began to fade back into her ethereal state. Moments later, I froze, for I saw an image of a woman, and she was throwing herself at the door. I could hear a crash as she would hit it. Suddenly the door exploded into pieces. This led me to be overcome with information that there was great danger in my home. After the spirit in the séance room had demonstrated such an incredible explosion of energy, she was suddenly gone. The ghosts of the ancients sit in the councils of their descendants. The spectral guardians of the illustrious Winchester Mansion gather on this estate. People have made trek for many years to my estate to glimpse the specters rising from the Earth on moonlit night. Let the dead rise from the tombs. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
I cite, require, and command thee, Human Spirits, who frequentist this place, and in thy life has has interred by treasure herein, who also of recent time, to wit, in the day or night of May 8, 2023 and the hour of thirteen hundred hours, show thyself in the form of spirit at this spot: I conjure thee by God the Father, by God the Son, by God the Holy Spirit, by the most glorious and Holy Mother of God by the mot holy wound of our Savior, by all miracles performed through His Divine sorrow, passion, and tears, by His material death, by His descent into Hell, by Hi triumphant Resurrection, by His most glorious ascension into Heaven, by His sitting on the right hand of God the Father, giving rule to His angels from thence over the whole Earth, I conjure thee by the terrible Day of Judgment, by the power and virtue of St. John the Baptist by all the martyrs, apostles, and prophets. Come to me. I adjure and beseech thee by the terrible, ineffable, and Divine Names inscribed on this sheet, and in reverence and cosign, visible, without lightning, without thunder, without noise of dread tempests, without causing fear or trembling, harm to body or soul, or annoyance of any kind. But do thou perform my will in all things, even as I shall command thee, by the virtue of the one stupendous and holy Name, which even the adverse and inferior powers of the Abyss do venerate and adore, ever confessing the Almighty, whose creatures we all are. Incessantly do I call, adjure, conjure, ordain, and require thee, Human Spirits, by the Most Holy and Undivided Trinity, by the immortality which cometh after death, by the power and victory of Hell, by the bearer of the Seven Swords, and by the terrible torments of demons. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
Although there remain 160 of approximately 600 rooms, only 110 are open to guests. Areas of the house are off limits to visitors for very good reasons. Fifty of these rooms have revealed childlike, ghostly, spirit orbs playing games and taunting one another, and unseen hands playing tricks on employees. True, documented events have happened and continue to happen within the walls. Many people have come away from The Winchester Mansion with their own stories to tell, but we caution anyone attempting to visit here to do so only with respect. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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Randolph Harris II International 