I was returning home late one stormy night. The loud claps of thunder rattled among the house. The lighting quivered about the pinnacles of Llanada Villa, and shed flickering gleams over roof top. There was an evil influence hanging over me; an evil genius or spirit seeking to ensnare me and ensure my perdition. One afternoon I was lying down on the bed with a book trying to rest. Before long I was asleep. Suddenly, I awoke with a feeling of horror that seemed to start at my feet and gradually work its way up throughout my entire body and mind. The room seemed to be permeated with something terribly evil. I could neither see nor hear anything, but I had the feeling that there was a presence there and that it was very strong and about to overcome me. A succession of vivid flashes of lightning revealed it more distinctly. The scenes of blood which followed shocked my sensitive nature, disgusted me with society and the World, and I shut myself up in a Llanada Villa where I pursed my favour speculations. Sometimes I spent hours in my great library, the catacombs of departed authors, in quest of knowledge. I have seen ghosts a few times. In various parts of the house. And in the garden by the Cupid fountain. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

These apparitions are the desolate souls of those unfortunates who have left their Earthly bodies in traumatic, or perhaps even tragic circumstances. Something must have created a power vortex—the whirlwind of negative and terrible emotions that act now as a magnet for unseen entities. Maybe there are more of them than I realize. The following morning, the housemaid laid my plate before me (scrambled eggs, bacon, and mushrooms). As I sat, casting my eyes down at my own half-eaten breakfast, I contemplated the situation. In the past, I was inclined to believe the someone had been smitten with the worth of a wealth widow; or rather a marauding Tarquin, had stolen into my home to violate my purse, and rifle my strong box, when all the house should be asleep. However, now I am prepared to believe that emotions of certain distressed people can be so strong at the moment of death, whether through pain, unhappiness, or shock, that an impression is left behind. An after image that can take years, maybe centuries, to fade completely. In any event, after breakfast, I went to the library. There was a fire burning in the massive stone fireplace. As one can imagine, the crack and spark of the aromatic logs, as well as the heat itself, were very welcome. I placed myself beside the hearth and relaxed into the delicious heat. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

When I was sufficiently warmed, I made my way through the ground floor rooms without finding a living soul. Curiously, I had not dismissed the servants. I discovered a mincemeat pie on the kitchen table, and on the massive gas stove a teakettle blackened now because someone had left the flame on while all the water had evaporated. I turned offed the fire and almost seared my palm lifting the kettle to a cool spot. Now I was truly terrified. I heard it. The sound echoing eerily in the bowels of the house. Something was coming out of the shadows. The sound of its movements sent shock waves and terror running through me. I turned and ran from the room. “Oh, God,” I cried in despair, “what is going to happen to me?” There was nobody to protect me, nobody to save me. I flew down the hall and hurtled to the front door. It would not open no matter how hard I pulled and pushed. I ran into the parlour, ripped aside the heavy drapes and tried to open the window. It would not budge. I looked at the storm-swept night outside and found even that preferable to remaining in my home. In a fit of rage, I picked up a chair and threw in at the window, gasping in astonishment as the chair bounced off the pain of glass. I could not run away. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

Within dreams I seemed gradually to acquire a greater and greater freedom of wandering. I floated through many rooms in Llanada Villa, going through secret passages. Sometimes I encountered those sealed trap-doors in the lowest level, around which such an aura of fear and forbiddingness clung. The next morning, as I was in the library, I looked up from my book and saw a shadow on the frosted glass of the door. When I rushed out into the hallways only to see the door across the hall closing, imagine my irritation. I walked over there, intending to knock, and find out who was in the room, but I saw a shadow withing the room, bent over a table. For some reason this stopped me, and I returned to the library. The next day the same thing happened. Then the day after that. I then refused to leave my desk. I would not chase a shadow; he would not use me in such a fashion. I soon discovered that when I did not go to the door, the shadow remained in my frosted glass all day long. He was standing outside my door all day long, every day. Once there were two shadows. That brought me to my feet immediately. However, when I snatched the door open, I discovered two housemaids busy shining chandeliers, polishing floors and furniture. Of course, after the two housemaids had left, the single shadow was back again. It was there until five. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

I am not usually given to emotion. However, the next day I lost my temper. I saw the shadow before the library door and in a fit of rage, I order him away from the door at the top of my voice. When three hours had passed and he still had not left, I began to weep. I pleaded with him. However, he was still there. I opened the door and went across the hall and was startled at what I found. Shadows moved intelligently around the room, getting books from shelves and taking them to great tables, or vice versa, and sometimes writing diligently with a peculiar rod gripped in their hands. Afterwards, I saw them everywhere through the mansion; swarming in all the great chambers and corridors; racing along the vast miles of hallways. I ceased to be afraid of them, for they seemed to form supremely natural parts of the house. Individual differences amongst them began to manifest, and a few appeared to be under some kind of restraint. Hours passed, and night fell. I stopped by a covered form, and pulled back a canvas tarpaulin. “This is my butler,” I said. His body had been dismembered. I looked at the left hand first, saw the thumb and two remaining fingers. His face, empty and expressionless. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

As for the other pieces—the torso, still joined to the upper right arm and thighs, the right forearm and hand, and the two disjointed feet and lower legs—I was not sure. Then he vanished before my eyes. Shortly after this incident, many of the servants began hearing the door-to-nowhere open by itself and close again. This was immediately followed by footsteps of someone walking through the hall. At first, they would get up to see who it was, but there was never anyone to be seen. Gradually, we realized that these were not the footsteps of a living person. The visitor would come at various times of the day or evening, and then stay away for several months. Then it would all resume. We became used to these sounds, and hardly looked up when they became audible. One day the steps continued and then we could clearly hear someone sit down in the baroque chair in the morning room! This did not bother me, but it bothered some of the servants who held less broadminded views of ghosts. However, it soon because apparent to everyone that the footsteps were not always the same: sometimes they were soft and light, as if made by a young person, while at other times they were heavy, almost clumsy steps of a big man. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

On January 16, 1892, two servants were in different parts of the mansion busy with their chores. Independently of each other, the two women saw the same figure of a man suddenly appear out of nowhere. At first, the Parlour maid saw him. He was a big man, about six feet in height, and heavy-set, dressed in black, and where his face should have been was just a black mass. However, unmistakably this was a human figure. A few moments later, he appeared to a Kitchen maid. She looked at him, and could see right through him into the other room! The women both had the impression that the man was looking at them. As he disappeared toward the rear of the house, they realized they had not heard a single sound. Since the appearance of the man in black, the footsteps were not heard again, but the door kept opening and closing as before. This too must by no means be passed over that certain servants being seduced by the illusions and phantasmal shows of demons firmly believe and openly profess that in the dead of the night, Satan assumes the shape of a man. Satan, in the form of a tall, dark man conveyed thither, and most often leaves the house by way of the chimney. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

The house had been vacant for many months, but people could not help visiting it, even though it was locked. They would go up to the front steps and peer in the windows. So many people were strangely attacked to the beautiful but bizarre Victorian house. Some say they were “called” by the house as if someone inside were beckoning to them. Over the months after the death of Mrs. Winchester, strangers who had passed by the house would speak of strange tales of music emanating from the empty house. Definite tunes, song after song played by skilled hands. Eventually the house taken possession of by the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. However, Mrs. Winchester’s niece, Daisy, doubted that Mrs. Winchester would move out just because the house changed hands. She felt her presence, very much alive and wholly content to live in the house. In February of 1923, a stranger went to The Winchester Mansion and rang the doorbell. When the door opened and lights appeared, he claims that he had an opportunity of contemplating Mrs. Winchester, and was more than ever intoxicated by her beauty. Her face was pale, but of a dazzling fairness, set off by a profusion of raven hair that hung clustering about it. Her eyes were large and brilliant. As far as her black dress permitted her shape to be seen, it was of perfect symmetry. Her whole appearance was highly striking, though she was dressed in the simplest style.

The only thing approaching to an ornament which she wore, was a board black band round her neck, clasped by diamonds. He spoke to her, but received no reply. He advanced to greet her. On taking her hand, it was cold—there was no pulsation. Horrified and frantic, a scene of confusion ensued. The police were summoned. Because the house had been vacant for months, they are armed with guns. Once in the foyer, they switched on the lights. As they looked around, they saw no one. The police finally went back to where the man was standing, looking dejectedly at him. “There isn’t a soul in here,” they told him flatly. They tried to soothe him, but in vain. He was possessed with the frightful belief that an evil spirit had reanimated Mrs. Winchester’s body to ensnare him. He went distracted, and died in a mad-house. This was a fact not to be doubted. The best authority said that saw him in The Great Asylum for the Insane. Perhaps he saw a manifestation of some kind. A visual representation of Mrs. Winchester still lingering. With a house this old, it would be a little unusual is there was not a skeleton or two lurking in a cupboard somewhere.

Please come and enjoy a delicious meal in Sarah’s Café, stroll along the paths of the beautiful Victorian gardens, and wonder through the miles of hallways in the World’s most mysterious mansion. 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/

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