We had been in our new house in New Haven for more than a year, trying to establish a routine in between visitations, both psychic and corporeal. Many things had changed within the family. Although a newborn, Annie exhibited the most obvious ones! Unlike any infant I had ever witnessed, she had boundless energy. I would carry her all around the mansion and the yard and she seemed to take everything in. However, six weeks after she was born, she died in my arms, and I became unconsolable. The next 15 years were the biggest challenge I had ever faced in my life, and then tragedy struck once again. My beloved William was claimed by vengeful spirits, leaving me absolutely desolate. I did not understand the reason for this attack. However, the spirits went about it like they intended to kill all of us. From that day on, I aimed to always have my Winchester in my hand. Seeking answers, I traveled to Boston and met with Madame Blavatsky who explained to me that I was being haunted by spirits—in fact, by the spirits of American Indians, Civil War soldiers, and others killed by Winchester rifles. While reading her tarot cards, she became terrified and told me that I would be the next victim unless I appeased the spirits by moving west and building a temple in their honor. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

As Heiress of one of America’s greatest fortunes, I separated myself from the rest of the World. After settling down in the Santa Clara Valley, I had built a stately home of fifteen thousand square feet, and forty-two rooms. It was known as a mansion of mystery. However, even after ten years of construction, the greatest mansion in the valley was not quite ready. Over the next five years, my home had expanded greatly, growing to more than three hundred and twenty-one rooms. It was a real fairy-tale castle, with secret entrances, mysterious sources of music, whispering in the trees and treasures collected from all over the World. The bronze gates were twenty feet high and fit for a palace. The four-story mansion was not so unusual for its day. Every inch was decorated with Parisian Beaux Arts ostentation, a profusion of lions, cherubs, and goddesses. Oh, but the architects were not done. Soaring above the mansion was an ornate tower, reaching nine stories, so pleased with itself that it that in continued to an open cupola.  And when I stood in the tower, nearly one hundred feet above the ground, I could see for miles. In the basement was a coal furnace, which burned seven tons on a typical day, not only for heat but to power the mansion, elevators, thousands of light bulbs.  #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

As large as my home was, it cost no more than two years’ profits. I often loved riding up the main floor elevator, and climbing the grand staircase. Made of mahogany, the stairs would wind their way through a ceiling of the mahogany overlaid with gold leaf. At the top of the stairs were two exquisite white marble statues. More wonders were found in the Observational Tower. It held its own secret, a suite with bedrooms, and its own kitchen. My favorite was the Golden Room. I had thirteen servants in residence, including a houseman, a waitress, two butlers, three cooks, and six maids. For dishware, a nine-hundred-piece set of China, costing more than $100,000.  Llanada Villa had been calm lately. The day had changed from dull to bright, from bright to brilliant autumnal glory, a sunny remission before the winter took firm, disheartening hold. The air remained chill, but its bite had freshness, its breath had vigor. I walked through the hallways, stopping to admire the statues and paintings. After a while, I rested near the skylight, warmed by the shafts of sunlight. Leaning back against the chair, somewhat breathless, my eyes closed, face upturned toward the sun. Then I felt an icy hand on my back. I felt each and every finger, but when I shook myself and turned around, I saw that no one was near me. Needless to say, it did not help my appetite. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

I pondered for a moment or two about where I had seen ghosts in my home. I recalled seeing one in the hallway. In the corridors. By the Daisy Bedroom. Once, when I was in the garden, I noticed a ghost watching me from the window. Just then, I felt coldness seeping into me from the floor, despite the sun’s warm rays. There was the crying of a baby, which seemed to come from the third-floor rear bedroom. It could also be heard one of the kitchens, though less loud, and it seemed to come from the walls. Several people had heard it and there was no natural cause to account for it. Then there were footsteps. It sounded like someone walking down the backstairs, the servants’ stairs, step by step, hesitatingly, and not returning, but just fading away! I caught a glimpse of a bright shape flitting through the wall. The mansion was hushed, the trudging of my own footsteps was the loudest sound. I stopped and looked around. Had I heard someone behind me? I walked on, only to stop once more. Had a figure ducked behind a door to my left? I waited a moment, but there was no more movement. I continued, becoming annoyed with the silly game. The noise that brought me to a halt this time was different. It had sounded like a child’s giggle. I whirled and caught a fleeting glimpse of something hurrying through a door to my right. However, it was gone in an eye’s blink. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

Ridiculously, I thought it might have been a small girl. It had moved so fast, though. I could not be sure. As I was glancing toward the French doors, I saw a woman looking at me. The figure was about five feet three or four, and wore a blue-gray dress with a shawl, and a hood over her head, for which reason I could not make out the woman’s feature. The head seemed strangely bowed to me, almost as if the woman were doing penance. At the time, I had assumed that it was a reflection from the mirror, but when I glanced at the mirror, I did not see the figure in it. When I turned my attention back to the figure, it had disappeared. It was now toward evening and I was a little tired, yet the figure was very real to me. My doubts were completely dispelled when I was walking under the doorway between the front and back rooms, and my advance was stopped cold by something that resisted by advance although I could not see anything unusual. I felt that I was walking through heavy water, halfway up to my knees. This was a physical thing, I realized, and in sudden horror it occurred to me that I was trying to penetrate an etheric body. Hastily retreating, I walked in the opposite direction in a hurry. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

I turned my head sharply. No, I could not have heard the whisper of voices; surely the muted sounds must have been a breeze sighing through the labyrinth. Now the faintest echo of laughter. I drew a shallow breath. A feeling was rising—was creeping—from the hollow of my stomach—or so it seemed—spreading upward and outward, a gradual sensory frosting of sinews and nerve lines, seeping through to my outer skin, prickling its surface with tiny bumps. An unease that I could not understand; yet a sensing which I could not ignore. My pace quickened as I walked on through my home. Occasionally I would look behind me. Sometimes I would glance sharply to my right, other times to my left. I was not alone. Yet there was no one else with me. I did not run. But I walked in haste. I heard a giggle, I felt the touch of a hand on my shoulder. The touch could have only been the brushing of the curtains. However, the giggle could not have been anything else but a giggle. I almost stumbled, my hands scraping across the wain’s coating. I did not linger. The hallways seemed more dark, more gloomy, as if dusk were impossibly premature. The coldness might well have been in my own mind, for I could feel perspiration on my brown. I hurried along to the Daisy Bedroom, now ignoring the small noises that seem to keep pace with me, the shadows that had no substance when focused upon. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

And then I was in the bright sunshine. The skylights had allowed the hallway to burst into a summer-warm, as though they had trapped and stored their own heart. The sun slowly drew the coolness from my body. There came a sound from one of the rooms to my right. A shifting. I paused. “Hello, is anyone there?” I waited for a reply. There was none. However, there was another sound from with the shadowed doorway. I forced good humor. “Okay, the joke is over. You have had your fun.” The silence was not comforting. Weary of the game, I sighed. The air itself seemed strangely still. Once inside of the room, there came to me a sense of total emptiness. My voice was very quiet when I said, “Who is in here?” Still no answer, but there was movement: a shadow separated from other shadows. It came from behind the bed. Exhausted from my adventure, I climbed into bed and quickly fell asleep. It must have been hours later. It was now dark outside. I awoke from a heavy sleep with the intangible feeling of a presence in my room. I looked up and there, in the rocking chair across the room, I saw a woman, now dead, who had taken care of me when I was a child. Rocking gentle in the chair, as if to reassure me, the Nanny that used to hold me in her arms, was still here looking after me. In a moment, the vision was gone, but it had left me with a sense of peace. I knew that I was being looked after. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

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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