The air in the draftless hallway seemed to darken and roil thickly, like cream in hot coffee, just for a second. Eberling, the butler’s features darkened too, making his eyes appear to glow, the way a lightbulb flares just before it burns out. He sucked a quick gulp of air, as though dizzied by an abrupt stab of nausea. His features fought to remain whole, shifting like lard in a skillet, and Diasy heard a distant, mad wail. It all took less than a second. He dropped the tea cup from his hand and it rattled as it hit the floor. The queasy, death-rictus smile split across his face again, and he said “Mrs. Winchester, I am sorry. I medicine seems to be having a queer affect today.” On various occasions, Eberling himself said contradictory things about the sources of his medicine. He recalled that when he was working as aa mines carpenter in Dortmund, the old lady he liked with had offered him a book that she said would make him powerful. He had rejected it, he said, because “the Devil was in there.” He also insisted that the old lady’s book was not The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses. “Eberling,” I said, “you are quite aware that one might see demons, ghouls, dragons gobbling someone up, brimstone, and Satan browsing through one’s body with a hot fondue fork in Llanada Villa. Or the Christian God, for that matter.” He was taken aback, obviously considering what such an experience would mean for him, given his life’s collection of myths and superstition, of fairytale monsters and real-life guilts. All of it would manifest to his eyes. All of it, at once. Eberling said, “You mean that every superstitious fear I’ve ever had is waiting to eat me, on the other side of a paranormal power overload?” #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

“Not as such,” I said. “Your belief is what makes it real. True disbelief renders it unreal, back into energy—which is what I saw. However, that energy is filtered through your mind. I am trying to hold the doorway to perdition shut, and something horrifying is pulling from the other side. It gives a good yank and the doorway cracks open for a split instant before the briefness of the squint is closed.” However, Eberling saw, in that instant, what was trying to get him. It scared him white. The hidden room materialized once again before me, a tableau of mystic artifacts and ancient volumes bathed in the low, spectral light. It was as if the room were a sentient being, its contents shimmering in and out of existence as though governed by some unseen force. As I exited the room, the mansion seemed to sigh around me, an almost audible exhalation that filled the air with an eerie resonance. The silence was oppressive, heavy with the weight itself. Cursed. Dark forces. A spark of mischief danced in the air. The night unfolded like a tranquil dream. However, this tranquility was deceptive, a calm before the storm of terror yet to come. As Llanada Villa sunk deeper into the stillness of night, an unexpected whisper cut through the silence. It was soft, chilling, weaving through the darkness with a haunting melody. “Sarah…Sarah…” As I near to the parlour, my hear pounded against my chest. I pulled open the door, my breath hitching as my eyes fell upon an odd board nestled among plush arm chairs, rich mahogany tables, gold lamps, and porcelain vases. The room seemed to radiate an eerie glow in the moonlight, its surface a sea of black with gold sparkles. Then an uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, haunting words echoing in the air like an ominous cloud. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

The voice was very distinct, and seemed to somehow sing through my head. There was so little light in the room, that I could not make out who it was, and the figured looked so strange that I got alarmed, and felt quite sick. I called out to whoever was there. I could see nothing of a face beyond a darkish colour about the head, and it appeared to me that I could see through her body against the window glasses. Although I felt very uncomfortable, I asked her what she wanted. Then the figure started coming toward me, I got so much alarmed, that being but weakly, I fell back and I believed I fainted away. When I got round again, I saw the figure standing and apparently talking to me. However, I could not hear any voice; and being still much alarmed, I stared in disbelief. After a time, I came across a row of windows, which led into a vast, well-preserved room with stone flooring. This enormous room must have been a former hall or concourse of some sort. There were distinct, and startling sculptures arranged round the walls in broad, horizontal bands. Finally, I did find the opening I wished; an archway about six feet wide and twelve feet high, marking the former end of my mansion. These archways, of course, were flush with upper-story floors; and in the case, one of the floors still existed. The mansion thus assessable was a series of rectangular terraces on my left facing westward. That across the hallway, where the other archway yawned, was a cylinder with no windows and with a curious bulge about ten feet above the aperture. It was totally dark inside, and the archway seemed to open on a well of illimitable emptiness. For a moment I hesitated before taking advantage of the long-wished chance. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

For through I had penetrated into this supernatural archaic mystery, it required fresh resolution to carry myself actually inside a complete and surviving building of the original farmhouse of a fabulous elder World whose nature was becoming more and more hideously plain to me. It was a complexity of the nest of apartments within, that stunned me. I did not remember this portion of my home at all. It gradually developed into a brooding blackness that cut me off from the means of escape. This wing was of unusual beauty and complexity, and size: for it seemed large enough to contain more than fifty rooms. With a steep ceiling, many tall, narrow windows fitted with art glass, dark green drapes, thirteen fireplaces made of marble, mock lighting rods. In one of the bedrooms there was a canopied bed with white organdy flounces and ruffles; there were even window boxes beneath most of the windows; the furniture—all of it Victorian, of course—was uniformly exquisite, having been made with the most fastidious care and affection. The lamp shades were adored with tiny gold fringes, there was a marvelous tub with claw feet, nearly every room, all thirty-five the I counted so far, had a chandelier. I was so astonished that I could not speak: for this was very unexpected, and uncanny. It was a great present. As I was going up to the thirty sixth room, I distinctly saw a figure standing at the door. It was dressed in non-descript clothes and was more or less clean-shaven. I was at the top of the staircase, looking down the passage. I went down stairs again and fetched another light, but on going up again the figure had disappeared. Although I thought at once that it was a ghost, I was not frightened of him until afterwards. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

He was below the middle height and seemed to be a man of sixty-five or so. His face was unusually round, or, rather, broad in proportion to its length, and was very heavily lined and wrinkled. The eyes were bright and the face might have been that of an old woman, but for the fact that there was about a week’s growth of greyish stubble on the chin. There was a hood over the head and he was dressed in a long garment like a dressing gown. The hood and the shoulders seemed to be grey, but lower down the colour was black or brown. The light was behind me and I had a candle in my hand, so that his head and shoulder were fairly brightly lighted, while lower down he was in shadow. The phantom was not at all transparent, but solid and real. The wall of this new addition of the mansion was in fact, it turns out, part of the wall of an old priory that had been erected on this site.  The thought of being haunted by the murderous specters was terrifying. Yet there was a sense of morbid satisfaction, a perverse relief in finally reveal the true beast lurking within. As I explored further, I could hear the whispers of the spirits, the echoes of the past. I could feel the bone chilling cold and encroaching danger of their touch, their malevolent presence lurking at the edge of my consciousness. I remained alone, for several days, the forgotten victim of a curse, trapped in the echoes of my mansion’s haunting whisper. I heard a silent movement ahead of me. I could not see what it. I turned around to look behind me, nothing there. However, when I looked straight ahead, there was a man standing there. Already, I was scared. There was something in this man’s eyes that unsettled me, a dark sort of burning. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

He moved with incredible speed. He had something in his hand, a piece of clothing. Was it a scarf? Maybe even a handkerchief of some kind? I did not know. What I did know was that he had no intention of hanging it. Instead, he came forward, brushing past the thirty-seventh room, and swooped the piece of clothing around my neck. Before I could cry out in fear and confusion, I felt a hard elbow go right into my ribs. Something pinched and broke, and as I breathed in as hard as I could, I was overcome by pain. I realized my throat was closed off. The man pulled tightly to the fabric around my neck, so hard and tight that I could feel the cloth trying to cut into the flesh of my neck. I struggled as he pulled even tighter and pushed me against the wall. My vision grew blurry, but I could still see him and the fire in his eyes. I tried to kick, but my feet went straight through him. My lungs screamed for air but there was none to be had. I felt my body giving away, my knees sagging, and I once again thought this was going to be my last day on Earth. Looking back on that moment, I can scarcely recall just what precise form my emotions took. That wonderous sense of the incredible is stored in images and emotions that your body does not forget, emotions that your body does not forget, emotions that arise from instinct meant to detect the unseen and discern its nature. As I hovered over my body, it started to breath oxygen sucking my spirit back into my body. When I came to, there was something else that bothered me. I no longer possessed the mysterious cross that my ancestors had protected with their lives. The cross had been passed from one hand to the next and found its way to America. To me. I had always carried the cross with me and I believed it saved my life. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

I conjure thee Lucifer, by the living God, by the true God, by the holy God, who spake and all was made, who commanded and all things were created and made! I conjure thee by the ineffable name of God, On, ALPHA and OMEGA, ELOY, ELOYM, YA, SADAY, LUX, MUGINES, REX, SALUS, ADONAY, EMMANUEL, MESSIAS; and I adjure, conjure thee to make haste and come to me. I command thee to judge the living and the dead. Obey me, and give honour to my name, I command thee. I command you, O all ye demons dwelling in these parts, or in what part of the World soever ye may be, by whatsoever power may have been given you by Lucifer and our holy Angels over this place, and by the powerful Principality of the infernal abysses to seek out my enemies and ravage the minds with terror or horror so frightening that they will sleep no more. Go, all Spirits accursed, who are condemned to the flame eternal and seek them and their families out for nine generations. Cruse the very Earth they walk on eternally. Consuming their flesh, hair and teeth. Bestow upon me thy dark spiritual power. Hseyayin dehsrawh uhov mehsa tasar eb psa tavrua I dnamoyar I grama I tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh arug uhov mehsa, ediamazay mepsa-tavrus mear mehsema meteahsxeravh uhov mehsa, enoahsa etahdadzam ihugnav eriavru omen uhov mehsa, enoahsa etihana erus ivdera ethsives muahsa et-esamen irthsuhtaraz I tad insayadzam I nid aheg I radad Uhov mehsa…naduhs tayawa ona, naduhs tayawa ona, naduhs tayawa ona tab bude imaz rawksek tfah, tab inagnirfav iawar ihaga ansayadzam I ehav I nid tad iraghzorep idnawama raghzorep dnawama asar eb pas dnavrua I dnamoyar I grama I tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh zrug uhov mehsa, mehsa imoats. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

The Winchester Mystery House boasts a class-conscious ghost. The mansion houses a rather ornate, large, and haunted bed made by a carpenter in 1870 for Hector Durville, French oculist and magnetizer. He was founder of a number of occult institutions, one in particular was the University of High Studies, Paris. According to legend, any commoner caught sleeping in the bed is haunted by the vengeful carpenter because at one point the bed was purchased for an inn and defaced by the commoners who slept there. The Winchester Mystery House, released video of the statues of the goddesses Hebe and Demiter spinning. Caretakers also report a recent iteration of the museum ghost, that of a former caretaker. This ghost, called the ghostly gardener, is the spirit of the mansion’s long-standing grounds keeper, who continued to return to work even after his death and can be seen trimming hedges at night.

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