The clatter at the eastern door was terrific. The paneling was beginning to splinter. A wave of almost abnormal horror swept over me, as days bled into weeks. Glancing up at the window, I observed that it was still dark outside, though to the north I could see lights ominously blazing from the Tower of Babel. There has seemed to be no one in the courtyard below. Every waking hour and every spectral sound seemed like a piece of an intricate puzzle. Llanada Vila was an enigma of tantalizing secrets and I was entangled in its spectral web. Its ghoulish spirits looming over me like ominous storm clouds threatening to consume me. I was a prisoner within the walls of my labyrinth, and each passing day bore a heavier, more costly weight than the day before. Llanada Villa had become my World, my obsession. Its spirits whispered to me, enticing me to build new rooms and enhance architectural features to feed its haunting heart. Echoes answers my foot falls and the gaze of the mansion’s eyes weaved their dark emotions into my skin. Walking softly on the third floor, the hallway was black, and I perceived several open doorways. Uncanny shapes were pouring in as my lantern bobbed in the darkness. Figures moved with uncertainty and I realized to my relief that they did not know where I had gone; but for all that they sent a shiver of horror through my frame. Their features were indistinguishable, but their crouching, and shambling git was abominably repellent. My reality was painted in shades of terror. Shadows pulsating with a life of their own. From several directions in the distance, I could hear the sound of hoarse voices, of footsteps, and of a curious kind of pattering which did not sound quite like footsteps. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5

Ascending the staircase, the steps creaked under my weight, each groan echoing the palpitations of my heart. I was shackled by dreadful anticipation. I walked rapidly, and knew there would be plenty of doorways to shelter me in case I came face to face with a macabre delight. As the figures spread throughout the fourth floor, I felt my fears increase. It was an arduous climb, and there were two shambling figures crossing in front of me. They looked dangerous. Terror washed over me with an icy wave that froze my blood. They moved with a curious gliding motion into the darkness and melted away. When I looked behind me, there was a specter disappearing into the mansion’s tapestry. To my great surprise, I saw, as it were, a dead corpse, a scream clawed its way up my throat, tearing through the silent mansion. As I thought, the corpse was lying extended upon the floor, just as a dead body should be, excepting that foot of one leg was fixed on the ground as it is in bed, when one lies with one knee up; I looked at it awhile, and by degrees withdraw my eyes from so unpleasing an object: however a strange kind of air of curiosity soon overcame my fears, and I ventured a second time to look that way, and saw it a considerable time longer fixed as before. I durst not stir from my position. I again turned from the horrible and melancholy spectacle, and, resuming my courage, after a little reflection, got up with a deign to ascertain myself of the reality of the vision by going nearer to it; but it was vanished! My home has become a haunted stage where my fears came to life. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5

Llanada Villa was veritable gateway to realms of unfathomed horror and inconceivable abnormality. As I was sitting, no, moving about, in an old-fashioned sort of paneled room, there was a fireplace and a lot of burnt papers in it, and I was in a great state pf anxiety about something. There were intermittent flashes of light in the distance. They were definite and unmistakable, and awakened my mind to a blind horror beyond all rational proportion. There was someone else—a servant, I suppose, and I heard several people coming upstairs and a noise like spurs on the wooden floor, and then the door opened and whatever it was that I was expecting happened. It was the sort of shock that upsets you in a dream. You either wake up or else everything goes black. That was what happened to me. Then I was in a big dark-walled room, paneled like the other, and a number of people, and I was being tried, for my life. I had no one speaking for me, and somewhere there was a most fearful fellow—on the bench; he was pitching into me most unfairly, and twisting everything I said, and asking most abominable questions about dates when I was at particular places, and letter I was supposed to have written, and why I had destroyed some papers; and he was laughing at answers I made in a way that quite daunted me. It does not sound like much, but it was really appalling. This man, he was such a horrible villain. The things he said. The next morning, I awoke to a horrifying sight. Tracing the length of my arm were savage scratches, crimson welts etched into my skin. Then I recollected an attack, claws ripping into me in the room on the fourth floor while I was being questioned. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5

From that day on, the hauntings gained a monstrous momentum. I would find myself in unknown corners of Llanada Villa, with no recollection of my journey. Each phenomenon brought new marks, bruises blooming on my skin, cuts etching their painful paths. Fear was my constant companion, ghoulish shadows leered at me from the corners of my home. I was lost in a whirlwind the supernatural. There were cryptical flashings of ghosts and unexplainable beacons appeared before my eyes. For a moment my brain reeled with sheer hopelessness. The feeling of being watched amplified, a malevolent crescendo in the haunting symphony of my mansion. A dread, bone-deep and paralyzing, filled me. There was a spectral figure inching closer, its icy breath on my neck. I became conscious of a peculiar sound in the room—a sort of shuddering sound in the room, as of suppressed dread. It seemed close to me. I gave little heed to it at first, setting it down for the wind in the chimney, or a draught from the half-open door; but moving about the room I perceived that the sound moved with me. Whichever way I turned it followed me. I went to the furthest extremity of the chamber—it was also there. Feeling uneasy, and being quite unable to account for the singularity of this stranger horror, I closed my eyes and put every ounce of will power into the task of holding my eyelids down. Of course, my resolution to keep my eyes closed failed. It was foredoomed to failure—for whom could crouch blindly while a legion of croaking, ghouls hovered noisomely around? #RandolphHarris 4 of 5

I thought I was prepared for the worst, and I really ought to have been prepared considering what I had seen before. My other pursuers had been accursedly abnormal. Can it be possible that this mansion actually spawned such demonic, blasphemous things that human eyes have never truly seen? Despite Llanada Villa’s imposing grandeur, its gilded embellishments, and regal expanse, I found myself unable to dispel the gnawing sense of dread that lingered on the fringe of my reality. Each creak of the ancient wood, the muted rustle from the ghouls’ cloaks, the cold draughts of phantom breath, and the ghostly echoed in my heart. My mansion’s cryptic maze, each chamber was a portal to some other realm. I was a woman divided. Caught in the eternal conflict between the angel of my better nature and the demon of my dark distress. As heiress to the Winchester Rifle Fortune, I was curse for all eternity to be haunted. As the days went on, the atmosphere of Llanada Villa grew denser, the air chillier. They very walls were constricting around me, Llanada Villa was swallowing me into its haunted foundation. Even as I expanded the mansion, my mind found itself incessantly pulled back to the clandestine otherworldly depths manifestations that waver between the phlegmatic and the melancholy. As I gaze over Llanada Villa’s grandiosity, I saw it clearly. Spirits swept through the veins of my mazelike corridors, casting eerier shadows through this ancient mansion, which concealed ghastly secrets for ages untold. It seemed to me that there were limitless swarms of them—and certainly my momentary glimpse could have shewn  only the least fraction lurking beneath the foundation and ancient towers. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5

The Winchester Mystery House

In 1923 when the Winchester Mansion opened for tours, the ghosts were known as “hobs.” They often performed the role of nightwatchmen, and under cover of night and darkness their footsteps could be heard. One of the tour guides became so accustomed to the tread that she would call out “Hello there, I’m quite all right, thank you,” Then the hob would depart. The owners were alerted to the presence of the ghost when they heard from time to time the noise of skittles in one of the kitchens; when they would investigate, no one was playing However, glasses left on the counter overnight to dry, would often be returned to their proper places. Clean linen was pressed and folded.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase.  https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/