It is only natural the Winchester Mansion is haunted. It is in the most beautiful county in California. It has been the home of dozens of races, including humans, spirits, demons, angels, ghouls, and the battle ground of scores of wars. The bones of Roman legionaries have given calcium to its soil. The sarcophagi of crusaders are in caverns underneath the mansion. The Winchester people carry more than a curse, in their blood is an atavistic stoicism in the presence of death, fortified by a practical faith in a life beyond the grave. And the past intrudes itself upon them subconsciously in the thousand mysterious relics that cling to my home in successful defiance to time and the elements. I live on a brink of a sort of military volcano that erupts periodically and with dire results. Sword and gun, pestilence and famine, and the constant influx of rival races over one frontier or the others by turns decimated and reinforced the population. Its national language swung from one dialect to another. Its racial characteristics changed with each succeeding epoch of wars. That is the price my family must pay to live on the highway between two mighty forces—Heaven and Hell. Shortly after I broke ground to expand my mansion, Santa Clara Valley became the strategic center of the West, the gateway by which the tribes of the half-starved North and East might enter the fertile fields of the South and West, and, since a gate swings two ways, a similar convenience for the men-at-arms of Southern conqueror. Age has not lessened the grandeur nor dimed the glory of the Winchester Family. And if ghosts must walk the Earth, they could find no spot on the globe where their appearance would be more natural, or better understood than my home. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

The Winchesters sprang from the Aryan stock. It appears that we are the Germanic tribes, little brothers and sisters of Angels,–honest, intelligent, and chaste; great warriors, and souls of a marvelous simplicity. It has been pointed out by interested persons that the Winchesters are something of politicians, and might have attributed all attainable virtue to the science by way of proving that this fine family had dropped some distance from the fundamental civilization of savagery. The Winchester men feared nothing, these brave men. They sang as they marched into battle and perhaps to death. They shot arrows at the Heavens when it thundered; they laughed when they saw their own hearts’ blood gushing fourth. And yet they were plain and simple in their manners; open and generous, docile and grateful, strangers to low cunning and deceit, so hospitable that they hailed the arrival of each fresh guest with joy and festivities, so warm hearted that they were never more pleased than when they could bestow kindness. They worshipped one God, and prayed to him in the open air; and they believed in a Heaven, in a hell and in the immortality of the soul. The Haliurunas witch, a necromancer of great power and deep divination, caused an uprising. Throughout the spring and summer, ghosts appeared at various times and in various places in the mansion, outside in broad daylight, and in the darkness of the wee hours. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

 However, in was December 5, 1889, that the children and servants brought their complaints to me. For several nights they had been hearing mysterious sounds in their rooms. In addition to those frightening manifestations, they also heard the sound of footsteps ascending and descending the stairs at all hours of the night. The next night, I was startled when I heard sounds that frightening and aggressively violent that I was forced out of my bed to investigate. The hallways was plunged in darkness, I could hear voices and see shadows gathering and moving toward me. Suddenly, I could hear the front door open and the unmistakable sounds of someone removing a raincoat and shaking it off. Then I heard footsteps begin to ascend the stairway. Curious, and a bit concerned as to who might have entered my mansion, I began to follow the sound at a discreet distance. Mysterious sounds echoed in the darkness. The sound of metal clinking seemed to surround me. I somehow managed to maintain my courage and searched every chamber for the source of the disruptions, but I found nothing. Just then, an invisible power heavily pushed me up against the wall. It was a white ghost, accompanied by a blood-curdling scream. I turned to run, made into one of the bedrooms, slammed the door. However, as I looked up, a human skull appeared in front of me grinning. I could not stand to see this skull peering at me. I quickly opened the door and ran to my chambers and fell fast asleep. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

Something evil had made its abode in my home. The next day, I had the door to that room bricked up. My depression was enveloping me. The haunting phenomena usually began shortly after I retired for the evening. Laying in bed, I would hear the sound of heavy footsteps walking past my door. On several night, hiding in the darkness with a fireplace poker, I tried to lunge at the invisible being that passed my door, but I was never able to strike anything tangible. Even creeper, there were often voices heard coming from the Grand Ball Room. Many, many years ago, one of the housemaids wanted to be a ballerina. I would let her practice to her heart’s content. After a week of dancing, a feeling of uneasiness and restlessness came over Ingrid, which she could not control. At night she went to bed as usual, but grew more and more restless. At last, seized by an irresistible impulse, she rose from her bed and went straight to the Grand Ball Room. For five or six days, she refused to work and was constantly dancing, day and night. She raved wildly about being a famous dancer and the staff was in great distress. She cried aloud, “What am I to do?” That is when she felt a certain cold chill, standing in the far corner of the Grand Ball Room was the whispy form of a human being. Ingrid felt that feeling of inescapability, as if she was trapped by whatever it was that entered the room. She thought it was a nightmare, buts its cry was so loud and distinct that it had to be real. That horrible, frightening cry made Ingrid feel that death was imminent. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

The demon then uttered: “Any amount of dancing will be of no use.” Ingrid then asked, “If dancing is of no use, what shall I do?” The demon replied, “Submit yourself to me, and you will be well.” Ingrid knelt down and worshipped the demon, begging it to make her a famous dancer. Thus the matter was arranged. About Midnight, she attempted to leave the Grand Ball Room, but the demon followed her, and brought her back, and bound her to dance. The demon came at intervals, sometimes every few days, sometimes every few hours to make sure Ingrid was dancing nonstop. She danced until she dropped dead. Three months after, we starting seeing her ghostly figure in the Grand Ball Room dancing, from the hall, people can hear tiny footsteps on the floor. The demon kept his promise, she had become famous to us. At this point, the servants and myself were all dealing with feelings of being watched. Sometimes witnesses would see a procession of ghostly men, in gray robs, gliding down the staircase. They appear extremely lifelike but then disappear. During this period, I began having sleeping problems, experiencing what I termed “suffocating dreams.” I would go to sleep, not especially bothered by anything, and I would awaken moments later, paralyzed in my bed. At the point, I gradually arose and expanded myself to the full stature of my regular physical body. I seem to be a translucent, of a bluish cast. I glanced at my body on the bed. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

As I reached the door, I noted that two servants were standing by the door and that they were completely unaware of my presence. With a great deal of surprise and amusement, I discovered that I could pass directly through the servants; I do so and continued on out the door. Glancing around, I noticed that I was still attached to my body in the house by means of a small cord, like a spider’s web. I found myself soaring high above my mansion, enjoying the aerial view that my unique situation afforded me. However, just as I was relaxing into my newly achieved emancipation from the confines of bodily flesh, a black cloud surrounded me and I found myself back in my bedroom, once again confined to my body. Fully awake, fully conscious. There was no fuzziness in my thinking, no debate about whether or not I was dreaming. I was not dreaming. I spent a lot of time trying to figure things out. I watched myself. I started to delay my bedtime, and was happy to catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was not long before I began to feel somehow ashamed about what was going on in the house. I was frightened that there might be something wrong with me, something almost humiliating. When I lost a night’s sleep to unrelenting suffocating dreams, when I lay awake listening to unseen footsteps until the wee hours of the morning, I wondered if perhaps I was under too much stress. Maybe enduring the loss of my infant daughter and husband might be proving too much for me. I did not feel crazy, but I was concerned. Mr. Hansen listened to me with a great deal of interest. He felt something was going on inside of the house. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

A few of the carpenters and servants moved into my home to work overnight and keep an eye on things, so I could rest easier. Emil and Folke were working on additions for the third floor. They knew the mansion was a gathering place of entities, fabulous legends and curses. Frequently, the third floor would be illuminated at night by the apparition of a ghostly figure, and the carpenters would hear the breathing of an unknown entity near an unoccupied rocking chair in the attic. One night, Emil was sleeping after finishing his work, when he was awakened by ghostly hands pulling him from his bed. The apparition then snuck up behind him and this would be his last move if he made a bad move. The following evening he slept on the porch. However, later that night, Folke kept his room on the third floor and became abusive when he was awakened by Sheriff Addison. “I won’t be pushed around by a hick-town sheriff,” he bawled. “I represent the Winchester Mansion, and I’ll telegraph—” “You won’t have to telegraph,” said Montgomery, who had accompanied the sheriff. “We just talked to a friend of yours—an hombre named Emil—who claims you’re behind his trying to steal some gold from Mrs. Winchester. I’m going to speak to Mrs. Winchester about his account.” “Damn you,” Folke bawled, “I had nothing to do with this. I know nothing about it.” “Then how did Emil learn of this gold?” Montgomery demanded. “He’s a locksmith,” said Folke. “That’s why he looks familiar,” Sheriff Addison said. “I go to the bank of Italy occasionally, and I’ve seen him there tending to locks.” “But that doesn’t mean Folke’s telling the truth,” said Montgomery. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

“From what Mr. Hansen said, word of this gold has been kept quiet, except  for a leak to the newspaper in New Haven. I think we need to play Mr. Folke against Emil, and see who’s the most willing to talk. Emil don’t seem like the kind who’s willing to risk court-martial, if he can talk his way out of it.” “Whatever he says, he’s lying,” Folke cried desperately. “We’ll get some answers in the morning,” said Sheriff Addison. “Folke, if you got ideas about running, just bear in mind that the law considers that an admission of guilt.” “I’ll be here,” Folke said grimly. He slammed the door and bolted it, leaving Montgomery and Sheriff Addison in the hall. I was awakened in the night by the sounds of horses pawing the ground and snorting outside. When I went to the window to see who it was taking a horseback ride in the middle of the night, I saw neither the Sheriff nor Montgomery. Going back to bed, I was puzzled. The next day, the staff kept a discreet distance—unless summoned. A phantom horse rider had been reported galloping across the fields and is presumed to be the Sheriff. I gazed out the window at the lush green lawns and mature trees that sit serenely in the warmth and sunlight of an early summer. Turning around, I feel as if someone or something is in the room with me, as if watching quietly from a corner, unseen and unheard. But of course, there is no one there, and soon my serenity is broken by the sound of hammering and sawing. The moment is gone, whatever ghosts that haunted this room have gone. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

The Winchester Mystery House

In December of 2016, it was reported that a ghost, or what seemed to be a ghost, was caught on camera at the entrance of the historic mansion. In a clip that lasts just over a minute, a dark wispy figure can be seen slowly walking across the entrance before disappearing; however, what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that the camera also picks up a bemused security guard as he searched for the figure. There is also a Blue Lady who lures people into various parts of the mansion until they become lost. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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