In the middle of the night, I was awaked by a frightful scream which came, or seemed to come from the roof of the mansion: and noises simultaneously reached me which seemed as if twenty or thirty chattering workmen were removing the tiles, and flinging them down as fast as possible into the garden below. I hastily got up, the apparition made itself visible, in its manly guise, just a foot from me, as its wont, and then caused my candle to go out, though it had no breath of its own with which to do it with. I summoned the man-servant, want downstairs with him to the front door, armed with a brace of loaded Winchester ‘73s. We expected to find thieves, or a body of lunatics, or Chartist rioters on an errand of destruction. However, on opening the door and making examination, not a soul was to be seen—not a sound heard. None of the tiles had been removed; while the garden was perfectly still and deserted. Amid the elms and the dogwood, the bird of paradise plants and the palms, noting had been disturbed. Coming back to my chamber, I found my windows open and the drapes flapping in the breeze, and had to latch the windows again. The linen from my bed had been thrown hither and tither, and my papers had been scattered about.  I stayed awake for some time afterwards when suddenly the door of my bedroom opened, and shut again rather quickly. I fancied it might be one of the servants and called out, “Come in!” After a short time the door opened again, but no one came in—at least no one I could see. Almost at the same time as the door opened for the second time, I was a little startled by the rustling of some curtains belonging to a hanging wardrobe that stood by the side of the bed; the rustling continued, and I was seized with the most uncomfortable feeling, not exactly of fright, but a strange unearthly sensation that I was not alone. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

I had had that feeling for some minutes, when I saw at the foot of the bed a priest buttoned up tight in a black rain coat. His face was shadowed, deep-hollowed under brow and cheekbone. He looked to be in his forties. Looks can be deceiving. Something compelled him to raise his eyes to my face, and when he did so, he halted. Eyes momentarily alive, he scrutinized my face. The man seemed as if he were on the bed, and came gliding toward me as I lay. The sensation of panic deepened. My breath came shallow and rushed, my thoughts flew wildly in all directions, I was simply terrified and could not move. I tried to speak to him but could not. He came slowly on up to the top of the bed, and then I saw his face clearly. He seemed in great trouble; his hands were clasped and his eyes were turned up with a look of entreaty, an almost agonized look. Then, slowly unclasping his hands, he touched me on the shoulder. The hand felt icy cold, and while I strove to speak he was gone. I felt more frightened after the priest was gone than before, and began to be very anxious for the time when the servant would make her appearance. Whether I slept again or not, I hardly know. However, by the time the servant did come, I had almost persuaded myself that the whole affair was nothing but a very vivid nightmare. However, when I came down to breakfast, there were many remarks made about my not looking well—it was observed that I was pale. In answer, I told the servants that I had had a most vivid nightmare, and I remarked if I was a believer in ghosts I should imagine I had seen one. Nothing more was said at the time upon the subject, except that my guest, Dr. Wayland, observed that I had better not sleep in that room again, at any rate not alone. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

As the evening came, the twilight deepened; and in many parts of the tangled hallways there was an approach to absolute blackness. I found myself walking unusually slow. It was unlike me, and the queer disorienting sense of being unreal, of having stepped into another World, was totally new. I was so panicked I could hardly catch my breath. I wanted to run out of the hallway, wanted to run out of my mansion. It was as if a demon had appeared to me. It breathed into my face, shoved me about, tried to pull me under. I would suffocate: I would be destroyed. The sensation was possibly the most unpleasant I had ever experienced in my life though it carried with it no pain and no specific images. Why I was frightened I could not gasp. Why I wanted nothing more than to run out of my home, to escape the unseen, yet curious eyes, I was never to understand. However, I could not flee. To form even a rudimentary idea of my thoughts and feelings as I slowly penetrated this aeon-silent maze of unhuman masonry one must correlate a hopelessly bewildering chaos of fugitive moods, memories, and impressions. The sheer alluring antiquity and lethal desolation of the place were enough to overwhelm almost any sensitive person, but added to these elements were the recent unexplained horror. And the revelations all too soon effected by the terrible wailing and creaking sounds all around us. The apparitions rearing and dwelling in this frightful catacomb were wise and old. They are the makers and enslavers of life. They are the Great Old Ones that had filtered down from the stars when the Earth was young—the beings whose substance and powers were such as this planet had never bred. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

So the following night, one of the chambermaid slept with me in the Crystal Bedroom. Neither one of us saw nor heard anything out of the way during that night or the early morning. That being the case, I persuaded myself that what I had seen had been only imagination and, much against everyone’s expressed wish, I insisted the next night on sleeping in the Daisy Bedroom again, and alone. Accordingly, having retired again to the same room, I was kneeling down at the bedside to say my prayers, when exactly the same dread as before came over me. The drapes of the wardrobe swayed about, and I had the same sensation as previously—that I was not alone. I felt too frightened to stir when, at that very moment, a chilling atmosphere and queer presence seemed to permeate the bedroom. There were unaccountable bangings and the sound of heavy breathing, accompanied by the feeling that something or somebody was in the room with me. And although I never saw anyone, I continued to hear footsteps. They went diagonally across the room, from an alcove beside the bed to the far wall where they stopped. Upon the ceiling, an apparition’s face appeared in the plaster as broad as half a crown. Frightened, I ran to the door, but could not open it for it was not unlatch. I nervously shuffled through my pockets to find the key to the door, but it slipped from my clutches and fell upon the floor. Kneeling to get the key, I noticed such a queer thing, a blue eye was seen peering through a knot-hole in the wooden floorboard. My troubled, I must confess it, increased upon me. As I lit my candle, something whispered to me, “Let me wish you a Happy New Year.” I could not had been mistaken: it spoke distinctly and with a peculiar emphasis. Had I dropped my candle, as I all but did, I tremble to think what the consequences must have been. As it was, I managed to get in bed quickly, and experienced no other disturbance. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

Another curious thing happened on December 28. I had occasion to come downstairs to my library for my watch, which I had inadvertently left on my table when I went up to bed. I think I was at the top of the flight when I had a sudden impression of a sharp whisper in my ear, “Take care.” I clutched the balusters and naturally looked round at once. Of course, there was nothing. After a moment I went on—it was no good turning back—but I had as nearly as possible fallen: a car—a large one by the feel of it—slipped between my feet, but again, of course, I saw nothing. It may have been the kitchen cat, but I do not think it was. In shock, I went to back down to the library and worked from 9 to 10. The hall staircase seemed to be unusually full of what I can only call movement with sound: by this I mean that there seemed to be continuous going and coming, and that whenever I ceased writing to listen, or looked out into the hall, the stillness was absolutely unbroken. Nor, in going to my room was I conscious of anything that I could call a noise. It so happened that so happened that I told Heinrich Schnell to come to my room for the letter to Cynthia Hesdra which I wished to have delivered early in the morning at her mansion. He was to sit up, therefore, and come for it when he heard me retire. This I had for the moment forgotten, though I had remembered to carry the letter with me to my room. However, when as I was wining up my watch, I heard a light tap at the door, and a low voice saying, “May I come in?” (which I most undoubtedly did hear) I recollected the fact, and took up the letter from my dressing-table, saying, “Certainly: come in.” When I went to open the door she appeared before my eyes then vanished. As I strongly suspect I committed an error, I opened the door and held the letter out. There was certainly no one at that moment in the passage, but, in the instant of my standing there, the door at the end opened and Heinrich appeared carrying a candle. I asked him whether he had come to the door earlier; but am satisfied that he had not. I do not like the situation; but although my senses were very much on the alert, and thought it was sometime before I could sleep, I must allow that I perceived nothing further of a figment of my imagination. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

I adjure thee, Emperor Lucifer by the hierarchy of superior intelligences to make our magick our Divine will imposed upon limitation and stasis. Allow our sorcery to be an external manifestation of our God self. All of your reality is a mirror upon which we can view the true essence of self and divinity. Allow the inner vision to become within the eternal darkness. May we feel and experience the colours emanating from the fire of spirit and unite them with the darkness. Allows these colours to move outward from within and merge to create the blackness and nothingness of the void so when they move back into our consciousness, we will notice how in our reality these colours again separate to create our physical surroundings through our observation and perception of them. May we maintain the knowledge that we are in complete control of all creation and how destiny within this World unfolds. I offer my blood unto the Divs and Druj, whom are of the essence of counter creation. I offer my life force unto the powers of eternal darkness found within. May they devour and destroy the imposed shackled of divine light and stasis that I may become as Zohak who is Ahriman in the flesh! Pursron and 22 Legions of Spirits, I awaken the powers of darkness which dwell within you by the power of the blood of the three headed Dragon Zohak that you may serve to empower my great work! Please bring forth hidden treasures, and devour all limitations for the sake of evolution and reveal the truth of the lie unto the Dark Apostles! Ediamazay acsat acsat acmahgnay acah tahsa ahteav oruha adzam ohgnav itiap ensey taa matah ehgney. Oybihzhkav acsaybieahdxuhsar acsaybarhtoaz acanhtoahys acacav…acarhtam ahgnahgnad ovzih. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6

The Winchester Mystery House

The son of one of the caretakers of The Winchester Mystery House believed himself to be haunted with ghosts, and was confident that he met with an evil spirit in a certain field at the mansion, as he often went to school that way. He confessed that a woman, which appears to him, lived in the Winchester Mansion. Her name was Helena Blavatsky. She never spoke to him, but passed by hastily, and would always leave the footpath to him, and she commonly meet him twice or three times in the breadth of the field. She began to meet him constantly morning and evening, and always in the same field, and sometimes twice or thrice in breadth of it. After about a year, he began to suspect and believe she was a ghost, and had courage enough not to be afraid; but kept it to himself a good while, and only wondered very much at it. He did often speak to her, but never had a word in answer. Then he changed his way and went to school the under horse road, and then she always met him in the narrow lane, which was worse. At length he began to be terrified of her, and prayed continually that God would either free him from her or let him know the meaning of it. Night and day, sleeping and waking, the shape was ever running in his mind. Thus by degrees he grew very pensive, insomuch that it was taken notice of by all his family; whereupon being urged to it, he told his brother William about it. William laughed at him, sometimes chided him, but commanded him to keep his school and put such fopperies out of his head. He did accordingly go to school often, but always met the woman in the way.

After weeks, William noticed that his brother was losing weight, getting pale and was not sleeping. Early one morning, he decided to escort his brother to school. They walked for about an hour’s space in meditation and prayer before stepping into the disturbed field. The ghost appeared, and William spoke to hear in a loud voice, in some such sentences as the way of these dealings directed him, whereupon it approached but slowly, and when they came near it, it moved not. William spoke to it again, and it answered, in a voice neither very audible nor intelligible. He was not in the least terrified, and therefore persisted until it spoke again, and gave him satisfaction. However, the work could not be finished at that time; wherefore the same evening, an hour after sunset, the apparition met the brothers again in the same place, and after a few words of each side it quietly vanished; and neither doth appear since, nor will ever more to any man’s disturbance. The discourse in the morning lasted about a quarter of an hour. These things are true, and I know them to be so with as much certainty as eyes and ear can give me; and until I can be persuaded that my senses do deceive me about their proper object, I must and will assert that these things in this paper are true.

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