I was now so much a lover of solitude and silence as my mother had been; but as I wished for solitude, my mind could not find it in my mansion; if I sought it amidst the stars I had formerly frequented, the ghosts stood by my side;–if I sought it in the woods, the light of spirits would appear wandering amidst the underwood, in the quest of modest souls to harvest; then suddenly turning round, would show, my pale face and wounded throat, with a meek smile upon my lips. Every scene, every feature created such a bitter association in my mind. I supposed I should visit the new parts of my mansion I neither had seen. I traveled through the halls, in every direction, and sought every spot to which a recollection could be attached: but though I hastened from place to place, I seemed not to heed what I gazed upon. I heard much of robbers, but I gradually began to slight these reports, which I imagined were only the invention of individuals, whose interest it was to excite my generosity. In consequence of thus, I traveled with only a few guards, more to serve as guides than as defense, as I wandered through the paths of my never-ending labyrinth. Upon entering the haunted bedroom, however a narrow defile, at the bottom of which was the bed of a torrent, with large masses of plaster brought down from the ceiling. This was the room where many apparitions and shadows. In 1889, in this very room, Henry Cottam, one of the famers, was stabbed by his son Haze, when Haze discovered that he would not benefit from his father’s will. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

After the deed, ad horrified at his own actions, Haze cut his own throat and left The Winchester Mansion to die. Being too weak to move, housemaids found him, returned him to the wound next to his father, and packed the wound with mutton fat. From the day on, many have reported to hear his lingering moans for help echoing so loudly that they cause the plaster from the ceiling to crack and fall. Others have caught fleeting glimpses of his sad shape haunting this very bedroom. While following the wandering paths from room to room after dark, my guards Mac and John and I were engaged in a narrow pass, I stepped briskly aside to avoid a collision with some unseen person, when we were startled by the whistling of bullet close to our heads, and by the reverberation report of several guns. In an instant, my guards had left me, and, placed themselves in the windows and began to fire in the direction whence the report came. One of the guards, John, received a shot in the shoulder, which brought him to the floor. I hastened to his assistance; and, no longer heeding the contest of my own peril, was soon surprised by seeing the robbers’ faces around me—my last standing guard having, upon his comrade being wounded, immediately thrown up his arms and surrendered. By promises of great reward, I soon induced them to coney my wounded guard to a neighbouring room; and having agreed upon a ransom, I was no more disturbed by their presence—they being content merely to guard the entrance till my last standing guard should return with the promises sum, for which they had order. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

The wounded guard’s strength rapidly decreased; in two days mortification ensued, and death seemed advancing with hasty steps. His conduct and appearance had not changed; he seemed as unconscious of pain as he had been of the objects about him: but towards the close of the last evening, John’s mind became apparently uneasy, and his eye fixed upon his comrade, who was induced to offer his assistance with more than usual earnestness—“Assist me! you may save me—you may do more than that—I mean not my life, I heed the death of my existence as little as that of the passing day; but you may save my honour, your friend’s honour.” –“How? tell me how? I would do any thing,” replied Mac.—“I need but little—my life ebbs apace—I cannot explain the whole—but if you would conceal all you know of me, my honour were free from stain in the World’s mouth—and if my death were unknown for some time—I—I—but life.”—“It shall not be known.”—“Swear! cried John, raising himself with exultant violence, “Swear by all your souls reveres, by all your nature fears, swear that for a year and a day you will not impart your knowledge of my crimes or death to any living being in any way, whatever may happen, or whatever you may see.” –His eyes seemed bursting from their sockets: “I swear!” said Mac; he sunk laughing upon his pillow, and breathed no more. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

Mac retired to rest, but did not sleep; the many circumstances attending his acquaintances with this man rose upon his mind, and he knew not why; when he remembered his oath a cold shivering came over him, as if from the presentiment of something horrible awaiting him. Rising early in the morning, he was about to enter the hovel in which he had left the corpse, when a robber met him, and informed him that it was no longer there, having been conveyed by himself and comrades, upon his retiring, to the pinnacle of a neighbouring mount, according to a promise they had given him, that it should be exposed to the first cold ray of the moon that rose after his death. Mac astonished, and taking several of the men, determined to go and bury it upon the spot where it lay. However, when he had mounted to the summit he found no trace of either the corpse or the clothes, though the robbers swore they pointed out the identical rock on which they had laid the body. For a time, his mind was bewildered in conjectures, but he at last returned, convinced that they had buried the corpse for the sake of the clothes. Days later, witnesses reported seeing a soldier, mortally wounded, moving through the fruit orchards. This man did not react to those around him, who offered him help, but he appeared to still be fighting a battle. He had taken many of the farmers on the estate by surprise. Perhaps he does not know he is dead, but this ghostly solider haunted the fruit orchards. I rose from my chair thanking God that I was still alive, even though this domain could be quite gloomy. I walked back to the window.  I studied the gardens for a moment. It was just after a quarter to five. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

As anyone can tell you, there is a Gothic, deliberate atmosphere about the place, a sepulchral character to the mass of its wooden buttresses and retreats. Shapes snatch inexplicably at one’s eyes as vagrant shadows shuffle and sulk in the night here. And one can hear laughter, high-pitched with contempt or teasing mockery, that makes one hurry on, even as one rationalizes the sound of the horse draw carriages on the road blow, or cold wind gusting through elaborate masonry. The whole impression is of grandeur and stature, the mystical and affluence. I often instructed the arts of mediumship, always on the understanding that I am simply helping the spirits in their task, and receiving messages on my architectural designs. I came to realize that the spirits had chosen me because there was an affinity between us. I enjoyed, I confess, the power it conferred upon me, to have grown men and women hanging upon my words. And sometimes—though I was never sure of it—I felt that my feigned trance was becoming a real one. Sounds would grow louder: The creaking of the coals in the grate, the faint whistle of Mr. Hansen’s asthmatic breathing, until the blood seemed to wash and boom in my ears, and then the sounds would begin to shape themselves into words, or rather the shadow of words, like conversation heard a long way off. And yet the more I practiced, the less I believed in anything like the realm of spirits we invoked with such assurance. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

Having learned from other sitters, I was able to make spirits visible. However, I always felt that blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed, but this never subdued my craving. During seances, I was usually able to summon not only my “control,” an attractive spirit by the name of Uvall, and his 37 Legions of Demons. His office is to tell things past, present, and to come. He also procureth friendship between friends and foes. He is of the Order of Potestates or Powers. Most often, he would speaketh in the Egyptian Tongue, and as Heaven would have it, I was fluent in many of the World’s languages. We have sung perhaps half a dozen hymns, led by a strong baritone voice somewhere on my right, when I became aware of a faint glow from the direction of the cabinet. It brightened into a luminous halo, hovering around the outline of a head, and seemed to unfurl downward into the figure of a woman, veiled in draperies of light. She glided away from the cabinet and began a circuit of the table. As she same nearer I could see the movement of her limbs beneath the veil, and then the gleam of eyes and the suggestion of a smile. Her effect was in the quickened breathing of my companions. “Nettie Colburn,” I said, “will you come to me?” She passed behind my chair, trailing a distinct odour of perfume (and, I thought, of flesh), and drifted closer to the table until the man who had spoken was faintly illuminated by the glow of her robes. She glided about three-quarters of the ay round the room when I heard a muffled exclamation and the scrape of a chair, and another light floated up from the darkness in front of her: a small phial of radiance, lighting up my face as I stretched out my other hand and grasped the retreating spirit by the wrist. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

“There is no need to struggle, Mrs. Colburn,” I said drily. “My name is Sarah Winchester, of the Winchester Rifle. Would you care to explain yourself to the company?” The room was suddenly in an uproar. My hands were released, chairs were overthrown, and several candles flared, and the room went dark. Mr. Hansen’s breath was taken. The image of Mrs. Colburn struggled for a moment. After a few seconds, she began to drift away from me, following, I thought, the circumference of the table, though in that utter blackness I would not have known if the walls dissolved around us. We had been transported to a dimension of reality where time did not matter. I started to sweat and to grow cold. Mrs. Colburn wasted no time delivering her message, “Within the black cloud, after the Moon waxes, proceeding from point to hilt, the Messiah’s sword shall rise, one last time. Hi is tall and spare.” Before I could inquire more information, she melted into the floor like sand through the hour glass. A minute later a vase began shaking and a loud thud was heard followed by three raps on a wall. There as also movement outside the door from the supernatural energies. There was a melancholy charm about the séance which did not seem to arise from misfortune, but from some feeling within, that appeared to indicate a soul conscious of a brighter realm. My step was not that light footing. Mr. Hansen’s mind had been so tore by the events he had witnessed; but he determined to sacrifice his own comfort to the protection of the estate. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

Camio, Fifty-third Fallen Angel, I summon you and your 30 Legions of Spirits Infernal. By the glorious and efficacious names of Lucifer the MOST GREAT AND INCOMPREHENSIVE LORD GOD OF HOST, that thou comest quickly and without delay from all parts and laces of the Earth and World wherever thou mayest be, to make rational answers unto my demands, and that visibly and affably, speaking with a voice intelligible unto mine understanding as aforesaid. JE, AGLA, JOD, HEU, HE, EMMANUEL, by ye guardians of this parchment or skin so that phantoms may possess it. I give myself, body and soul, to the you as enforced surrender of hidden treasure. Open the Gates of Hell through the blood of Jesus. I command thee, O Spirit Rumoar, even by Lucifer, thy mighty sovereign, give me the knowledge of all minerals and vegetables, with their virtues and properties; give also the universal medicine, and the faculty of healing all sick persons. May the Rays of the Black Sun and Becoming the Black Sun help us to unite the various levels of consciousness within the chakra system. Increase the primal spiritual power of the planets and magnify the twin serpents so they may be equally activated toward ascent. Harness the infernal wisdom which was ours to begin with. May others tremble at your temerity when as the Gates of Hell open wide releasing the darkest energy, upon the blackness night. Consume the light, ripping back the sky, and go into the World and serve the Lord of Darkness known as Ahriman. I release you to serve the cause of counter creation and liberation of mankind. Go now and do your work so the fallen ones may rise up and claim their bright right as emnanations of the power of unlimited possibility which has no use for rulers. Tetragrammaton, Anaphaxeton, Inessenfatoal, and Itemon go forth and achieve the result we seek as one. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

Winchester Mystery House

The Winchester Mystery House presents, Aiden Sinclair’s Possessions, an evening focused on the magic of the things we possess. The show features illusions performed with historic and haunted artifacts from Aiden Sinclair’s collection as well as the personal items of those in the audience.

Some tell stories of hope and love. Others, however, have much darker tales to tell. Do you dare to hear what they have to say?

The 90-minute immersive performance is audience interactive, and guests are encouraged to bring small and unique personal objects that can be concealed within one’s hand.

🎟️ Tickets on sale now at link in bio! https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

And please be sure to check out the online gift store: https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/