There are some singular instances of skulls being preserved in old houses and becoming the subjects of weird legends. The Winchester Mansion is one of them. My beautiful property is one of the stateliest homes In America. In this case there is no element of doubt as to whose skull is preserved here. The story has always been free from the slightest suspicion of vagueness. Llanada Villa is a noble building of Grand Queen Anne architecture, and stands on a gentle eminence over overlooking the village. This was an age when the stern realities of civil war, and general insecurity seemed to be ending, and when to dwell in castles and moated granges appeared unreasonable. In every way, in art, and architecture, and in the graces of life, and era of Americana. Money was no object and no expense was spared to render the Winchester Mansion as fine as the spirit architects and craftsmen could make it. My home is certainly a very noble structure. You approach it through beautiful stained-glass doors, with caryatidal figures, and there are gabled wings, and several towers and turrets, with one being nine stories high. The entire home is plentifully supplied with more than 10,000 windows, 2,000 doors, 47 fireplaces, 6 kitchens, 13 bathroom, and a beautiful landscaped yard. The interior is handsome with rich panelling, but is chiefly remarkable for the fine staircase and the Grand Ballroom. All its columns and walls were decorated beautifully with the Egyptian writing, and the ceiling was covered with plates of gold. With over 600 rooms and more than 747 acres, my home was growing to perfection with unaffected enthusiasm. It has never been out of my thoughts, and when it is finished, I am always devising little additional touches. I live for the house. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5
However, my home is haunted by Marie Marybelle who was bricked up alive after the basement was built. She saw to beggars resting in the fruit orchard. As she approached, they rose and asked charity. Helping them from her purse, a valuable ring she was wearing attracted their attention, and they demanded it with threats. Alas! poor Marie. She declared it was an heirloom, and had belonged to her mother; but little the ruffians cared for that, and attempted to snatch it from her finger. My pet dog Zip, whom she happened to be walking, barked, but was not otherwise of much use, and the unhappy Marie shrieked; whereupon one of the men struck her over the head with a cudgel and so knocked her senseless. They then made off with the ring, and when assistance at last arrived no one but the studded girl was to be seen. The farmers were fearful that they would be blamed, so they carried her to the basement; but although she lingered during five days, they were fearful she would never recover. In her last conscious intervals, she besought her sister, the other housemaids, for the love she bore and the affection they owned her, when she was dead to sever her head from her body and to preserve it within the walls of the mansion, there to let it remain for all future time. “Let it be removed; and make this, my last wish, known to any. And know, and let those of future generations know, that is my desire be not fulfilled, my spirit shall, if it be permitted, render the house uninhabitable for human beings.” The farmers did not consider this gruesome wish, they figured it was merely part of her wandering faculties. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5
A few days later her body was entered into the wall. Not many days had passed when those living in the mansion were startled, as they were proceeding to bed, by hearing a loud crash in one of the down stairs rooms; and although it was searched, no fallen object could be discovered. A few nights later, the sleeping household were awakened by the reverberating slam of doors; and they rose and searched through the house, and saw Marie, she was pale, had dark shadows under her eyes, and her hands shook. We realized this was a vision of death. Her body leaked blood. My heart was beating faster and faster while her hands reached for me and tired to get ahold of me. I could hear her ghost draw in her breath. A sudden crackling was consuming the ceiling above. The night was red and brilliant, and nobody was safe, nothing was safe. The fancy gilded sofas near us were drenched in blood, the very tapestry bleeding as if it was from within. All draperies were splattered with blood, all windows featureless portals to a black and empty sky. I must have been screaming. How the horror illuminated the night. Ladies in their long gowns scurried, wept, embraced each other, pointed. Frantic men ran to drag objects to safety, slipping on the floor. The shock on each face told the others that they had passed into someplace not of this World. Some saw their own and other’s breaths condensing into clouds in the cold air. We all were in shock with a new respect for the unpredictable yet undeniable power of the unknown. We looked at Marie, but then she vanished in the bloody mist. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5
Then, it was towards the top of the house, on the outside, at the north-east corner, resembling the loud creaking of a saw, or rather that of a windmill, when the body of it is tuned about in order to shift the sails to the wind. We then heard a knocking over our heads, when we attempted to go to the study to investigate, as I opened the door, it was thrust back with such violence as had liked to have thrown me down. However, I thrust the door open, and went in. Presently, there was a knocking on one side, then on the other, and, after a time, in the next room. We went into the room, and the noise continued. These spirits love darkness. Later that evening, August the butler had the most hurtful attack as he was kneeing at the fireplace, stirring the coals. Without warning, a huge amount of water rushed down the chimney, extinguishing the fire. The sparks that flew from the chimney blinded August, and he was covered in ashes. One night the ghost roamed the corridors of the mansion and sought admittance to the rooms of each member of the household. It knocked once or twice on the doors of several bedrooms, then, true to its aggressive pattern of behavior against the mansion, it paused to deal 113 consecutive blow to August’s door before it returned to the Blue Séance Room. There was also the distinctive sound of a large animal rubbing itself along the walls. The steps taken by the ghost were quite unlike human steps and I was sure no animal walked in such a manner. As soon as we made our departure from the third floor, there was a loud thug what sounded like a body had suddenly fallen to the floor. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5
As the death of a thunderstorm swept over the area, we thought the Devil himself was coming to claim a soul. We were in terror. Back in the blood-dampened corners of the parlor, there was a cold chill that penetrated the room. A man dressed in dark blue was a dark beard was standing against one wall of the room, not ten feet from us. The man stood there. Then I noticed something strange—the apparition was only visible from the waist up! He started playing the organ and moving an occasional bit of furniture about the room. Fighting growing panic, I closed my eyes and opened them again. The man stood there, glowering at me. I was shaken by these images. Not only did I see them I felt a deep physical response. I had to clear my eyes as well as my head. There was something overpoweringly intimate about them, yet something indistinct at the same time. The midnight screams increased in shrillness and were joined by the furious crimes of animals. Rhythmic tappings moved up and down the corridors as if a small drum and bugle corps were parading in the halls. The ghost then pounded in the door. The force of the successive lows on the door shook every window on the floor. As the ghost burst through the door, that is when we noticed it was a hoofed creature. The room began to shake and there was a long, drawn-out cry. We retreated to the Observatory Tower and it was plagued by strange and dark shapes descending the stairs. There was a ghost hanging from the ceiling, twitching and jolting as if struggling for breath. Voices were screaming and shouting, “To be knaved out of our graves, to have our skulls taken, are tragic abominations.” The temperature dropped rapidly and the voices grew louder and louder, and I am sure that I could see someone standing in the shadows watching us. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5
It is well known in paranormal circles that—in order to manifest—ghosts need more energy than they have inherently. Paranormal investigators have their fresh batteries drained of power and they find themselves exhausted after an investigation, simply drained of all their energy. The ghosts seem to have tapped into them for their source of energy. With utter horror, I beheld this. There is no other way to describe it. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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Randolph Harris II International 