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We All Know What Ghosts Look Like, Right?

Without saying a word, I rose from the sofa and walked straight to the kitchen. As I drew near a soft of mist seemed to pass before me; and as I looked at it, I saw William. I said to myself, “Poor William!” Daisy looked up. She feared something unimaginable had happened. “Are you okay, Aunt Sarah? Is anything the matter?” And when she drew near, she touched me as if I were as fine as a fabric. Her little hands hovered for a moment on my shoulders. “My dear; nothing is the matter. I simply had a thought of your uncle William and could not think of the pain and discomfort he had gone through. A supernatural breath of cold showed me his icy apparition,” I explained. “Aunt Sarah, I think it was very imprudent to sit with the window open. I will see to it that we light a fire to keep you warm,” said Daisy. Oh, she was lovely, and innocent, so sheerly innocent, her large dark eyes gazing at me as if I were a child. Life was hard in the valley even without the threat of Indian raids, hostile whites, and animal attacks. The women worked from dawn to dusk washing clothing and linen, preparing food, cleaning, tendering the gardens. It was such a large house that I had built. One could walk for days and not see the same room twice. Two of the servant women, Tindra and Sibylla, were comely with beautiful long dark hair that they would let loose like curtains of darkness across their shoulder. They did not have fancy jewelry. If they were vain about anything, it was their pretty hair. One afternoon the girls took the laundry down stairs. It was a pretty day. While they washing the clothes, hostile eyes were watching them from the shadows. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

They belonged to a war party they had broken into the mansion. The hatchet-hard faces of the natives, daubed with red and black war paint, were ferocious to behold. Their hair was shaved along the sides and stood up in cockscombs on the top of their heads. They knew that they had found easy prey. Suddenly from downstairs came terrible cry and the girls looked behind them in terror. The sound was unmistakable to them. They dropped the laundry and gathered up their skirts to run. From the hallway ran demonic-faced, tawny figures. The girls fled like deer, but not fast enough. Within moments the terrible deeds were done and the two girls lay mangled and broken not far from the Venetian dining room. Their beautiful hair was gone, carried away to be sold and traded. Hours went by before anyone discovered the girls. They were found not far apart bloodied and their beautiful hair scalped. It was a tragedy that played out all too often in the valley. The girls were buried but not soon forgotten. It was not long until people began to claim that the girls, with their bloody scalped heads, were seen wandering the halls of my mansions. It was believed that they girls could not rest because their hair was taken. They had comeback to find their beautiful hair. On January 7, 1892 Ansgar Bergstrom, a farmer on the estate, died as the result of a fall. Although Ansgar was survived by his widow and four sons, the will that had been duly arrested by two witnesses on March 13, 1875, left all of his property to the third son, Olsson. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

One night in August 1894, Svensson Bergstrom, the farmer’s second son, saw the spirit of his father standing at his bedside, while he was staying in one of the guest rooms in my home. The specter told him of the existence of another will. According to Sevensson, his father appeared before him that night as he often had in life, wearing a familiar black overcoat. “You will find the will in Mrs. Winchester Bureau,” the spirit said. The next morning Sevensson arose convinced that he had truly seen and heard the spirit of his father, and that the spirit had visited him for the purpose of correcting some error. After breakfast, he located the Bureau, and found inside a will. In this testament, the farmer stated that he desired his property to be divided equally among his four sons with the admonition that the provide for their mother as long as she lived. Although the second will had not been attested, it would be considered valid if it could be proven that it had been written entirely in Ansgar Bergstrom’s own handwriting. Olsson Bergstrom, the sole beneficiary under the conditions of the original will, had passed away with a year of his father. Olsson’s widow and son prepared to contest the validity of the second will, and the residents of the county anticipated a long and bitter court battle between members of the Bergstrom family. At that moment, an Indian appeared, telling the Bergstrom family to share the wealth or they would be doomed to wander Eternity. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

The Bergstrom family proceeded with the court battle. That evening, an Indian woman broke into my home, where they had been staying while contesting the will. With knives, she sliced their thighs so they could not walk through the afterlife; decapitated them so they could not function headless; and copped off their feet so they could not return home. My horses were torn to pieces, and some ran wild. It was a ritualistic mutilation, but no bloody hand prints nor footprints were found. I did not believe these immortal deeds were done by mortal men. I have seen and heard a number of mysterious, unexplainable things in my home, but this was by far the most gruesome. There were often phantom sounds of people cheering from the fruit orchards, to gun fire echoing off the nine-story observation tower in this distance. However, perhaps the eeriest occurred only at certain times—after a thunderstorm of during full moon when the shadows dance a mournful waltz in the Grand Ball Room. Along the darkened and dismal skyline, one could often see a lone figure moving in the observation tower, then bending low, as if he knows he has been spotted and is hiding. By dusk, everything sounded like noise. I was quite disturbed and could not work anymore. The house was full of busy servants and clerics. I knew something was not right when I stepped into the parlor. The Cardinal was dressed for ceremony and duty, a silver crucifix gleaming on his chest. The city was filled with rumors about the number of people who had lost their lives in the tragedy. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

Some thought that everyone, including myself, had been slaughtered. There was a rare light to the expression of the Cardinal, an innocent exuberance. “Sit down, beautiful one,” he said. He told his attendant to go out. The door shut; the quiet seemed to close around them like water washing back from a shore. I looked up with just the slightest hesitation; I saw the Cardinal’s green eyes were filled with an infinite patience and wondering, and I felt the pang of warning. A dull sense of finality slowly came over me before the Cardinal spoke. “Come here to me,” The Cardinal whispered as though summoning a child. I had slipped far, far away into some realm that was not even thought, and I rose slowly and approached the Cardinal, who had risen from the chair. We stood almost eye to eye. “Mrs. Winchester,” he said softly, confidentially, “it is obvious that this is a return to ancient pagan practices, and witchcraft.” I smiled, “I believe that you are mistaken.” I cast one glance at the door—it stood wide open. “Look here, Cardinal,” I said, all of a sudden; ‘life’s not child’s play. That door is the trouble you have now to face, and you must face it.” The Cardinal sighed. He seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment, and he and his men escorted themselves off of my estate. It was not anger I felt so much as astonishment. He and his men haunted the valley and mountains and saved families from Indian attacks. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

The Cardinal killed Indians whenever he could and always protected settlers. The Cardinal and his men eventually faded from the lands. Still, he was said to be a nomad who could not rest. You see, one day the Cardinal went out hunting, and came back to find his home on fire. He rushed into the house and immediately realized that Indians had attacked his family. He found their mutilated, scalped bodies inside the house. I thought it was the work of demons. In time, the Cardinal simply disappeared. No one knows where or when he died, but soon people began to say that they saw his specter in my home wearing that silver cross. Some believe that the Cardinal was staying in a cabin on Mount Umunhum, and a small group of Indians were watching the cabin for signs of life. The Indians, emboldened by the silence, drew ever closer. By noon, one day, they were just outside the cabin when the Cardinal started to shoot at them. As he desperately tried to think of a way out, suddenly flaming arrows were launched at the wooden roof of the cabin and the roof caught fire. Days later, his body was found tied to a tree. The Cardinal’s blackened, bloated corpse told a terrible tale. He had been tortured to death. His death was no doubt excruciatingly slow. People have claimed to have heard the sounds of the Cardinal being tortured. Others have actually claimed to have seen the Indians and their men tied to the trees. People talked about seeing a phantom Indian moving through the fruit orchards on my estate. If he died here, he might still be waiting through all of these years. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

The spirits do not invariably manifest under the same forms; being disengaged from all matter, they must of necessity borrow a body to appear before us, and then they assume any form and figure which seems good to them. Beware, however, lest they affright thee! Is another pregnant warning. Lucifer appears under the form and figure of a comely boy; when angered, he shows with a ruddy countenance, but there is nothing monstrous in his shape. Beelzebuth appears occasionally under monstrous forms, such as the figure of a misshapen calf, or that of a goat having a long tail; at the same time he manifests most frequently under the semblance of an enormous fly. When angered, he vomits floods of water and howls like a wolf. Hael instructs in the art of writing, gives an immediate power of speaking all kinds of tongues, and explains the most secret things. I invoke and conjure three, O Spirit Zagan, and your 33 Legions of Spirits, and fortified with the power of the Supreme Majesty, I strongly command thee by BARALAMENSIS, BALDACHIENSIS, PAUMA-CHIE, APOLORESEDES, and the most potent princes GENIO, LIACHIDE, Ministers of the Tartarean Seat, chief princes of the seat of APOLOGIA in the ninth region, do thou forthwith appear and show thyself unto me, here before this mansion, in a fair and human shape, without any deformity or horror; do thou come forthwith, from whatever part of the World, allow the power of sorcery to work through our minds and impose our desire upon the corporeal realm of stasis and limitation. May the power of darkness eternal be revealed through us now! Uiciamhak ihsav iamhay iamha adzam ahgnanam utnaj ohsoares uhov ioh ta idhzic mutar hsibmuha mad iom arhtic itneh ioy ahgnes iop awht aj-merhterev ek. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7


The Winchester Mansion is such a haunting place in many ways. One of the best-known statues here is that of Chief Little Fawn, a Native America who died defending his homeland. It is said that Mrs. Winchester erected this statue to placate the spirits of Indians. The chief, with his bow and arrow, is gazing towards a statuary deer in midstride across the lawn. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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Elusive Crossover from One World to the Next

Handsome he was, majestic even, as everyone said, and full of that smoldering power as only performers of magic possessed, long years ago. Oh, it was such a pain to lose him. It seemed of consequence of the entire Earth. Across the table, I reached for my lemonade with a shaking hand and took a sip. Reminiscing acquired a thirst. When I saw Elsa looking at me, I offered a weak smile before abruptly averting my eyes, and turning my attention back on the gardens. My heart was growing heavier and heavier. The night waned, the tone on the estate was quite strange. I pondered hard on the possibilities—and ramifications—of returning to the past. Some shrugged it off as impossible, since time, as we know it is a continuum and there is no going back…or forward, for that matter. Some say that all time is contained in the past and there is literally no future. Others bode ominously that even our merest presence in the past would disrupt the continuum and set up an entirely new future—where we live now—and change things so that the present is not what it is, perhaps even leading to the possibility that the time traveler in the past might never have been born! Still others claimed that time travel had already been accomplished and proven by sounds of physical laws. Although we are recognized for these magnificent rifles, the Winchester Arms Company also produced household and sporting goods. We had a product line that touched virtually every aspect of American life. Over 6,300 Winchester franchise stores were in existence. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

Ordering products through the Winchester mail-order catalog was extremely popular. We manufactured double-raw ball bearings, safety razors, fishing tackle, and a line of tools: hammers, planes, saws, wrenches, flashlights, batteries, ice boxed, locks, scissors, cutlery, tong, meat grinders, paint and varnish, pots and pans—even footballs and bicycles! However, there was also a secret business that the Winchester Arms Company was involved in. Deep in my mansion, we had a super-secret facility which we conducted experiments using rare metals spinning at tremendous speeds in opposite directions. The result was the creation of a field—a torsion field—within whose influence strange things occurred. One thing was the rapid disintegration of life forms within the field’s influence. We experimented mostly with plants. The result, if the torsion field was strong enough, was the disruption or bending of space. And, because of the space-time continuum—a well known and accepted inviolable connection between space and time—if space is bent or distorted, so is time. A slowing or stoppage of time is the result. This whirlpool or vortex is evidence of paranormal energy. The vortex is a tap or connection into time. This paranormal energy not only gave us a vision of the past, but it allowed us to freeze time. That is why the carpenters were able to make this mansion mushroom from an eighteen-room farmhouse into a hundred room Grand Queen Anne Victorian Mansion in the first six months. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

Of course, everything has consequences. One night, I stood on the front porch of my house to watch the stars in the sky. As I was gazing at the Heavens, I suddenly got a strange feeling, a feeling that I was in another space, another time. It was almost like I was in the wrong place. There were couples all over the veranda, talking directly to each other, four or five couples. The women were wearing trousers and so were the men. They looked very peculiar. The vision did not last more than a minute, but long enough to see them chattering, laughing, and walking around my home as if it was some sort of circus or museum. The entire scene vanished before my eyes. I paused to collect my thoughts and gather in my emotions. I could feel William’s energy with me. I felt him right next to me. His energy was here, in our very home. It was mid-August of 1890. The housemaid Elsa was doing chores when she noticed a tall man with a long beard and mustache sitting on a bench in the front yard. The man seemed sad, but paid no attention to Elsa. At first Elsa did not think for a moment that this man was anything other than a mortal. However, when she pointed him out to Mr. Hansen, things began to get strange. Mr. Hansen could not see the man despite the fact that he was obvious to Elsa. Elsa looked at Mr. Hanen and then looked back at the man but he vanished. Now she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined him. Elsa mumbled something and went back to work. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

Later that day Elsa was walking down the road past a neighbor’s home when she spotted the man again. He was standing near a hired hand working in a field. No one seemed to pay the man any attention. In fact, no one even seemed aware of his presence. While Elsa watched, the man walked away into the fruit orchard, but he did not cause any disturbance. Elsa still clung to the idea what he might be an optical illusion based on where she stood. She convinced herself that she had seen the man again, and this time she would see that he was flesh and blood. Elsa was destined to meet the man again, but this time there was little doubt that when she saw the man sitting on top of the thatched roof of the stable. He seemed to be repairing shingles. The man still did not seem to notice Elsa, so she ran back to fetch the carpenter Mr. Hansen to verify what he saw. However, when they returned the man was gone. As Elsa looked around, she saw him in the doorway of the shed. Mr. Hansen could not see him, but he believed Elsa. He told Elsa Mr. Hansen to ask the man what he wanted. The man returned to the shed, but he paused as Elsa spoke to him. The man answered that he was William Winchester and he was looking for his wife. Then he asked her for help. Astonished by what this handsome made said, Elsa was so stunned that she thought her knees would buckle. She was witnessing a sight that few mortals were privileged to see. This spirit was identical to William Winchester, except he started becoming translucent, and did not bore the ravages of the terrible illness that caused his death. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

What Elsa beheld next was even more startling. The handsome man in white passed right through the wall of the Winchester Mansion with a child’s spirit in his arms. He sat quietly in a chair for several minutes, and faded away. Elsa had the sincere conviction that she had seen two angels. When the vision was over, dead and dying were scattered about the lawn. Men were crying for water. Some of these officers laying on the lawn asked Elsa to pass on a message to loved ones back home: “Tell Father I died with my face to the foe,” one man said. Others called for help. And some were crying like children calling for their mothers. Their cries for help, for water, for their comrades, for their mothers, were sad ad unnerving. Long throughout the night myself, Mr. Hansen, Elsa and other servants heard the heart-rending pleas that were echoing everywhere in the darkened and forbidding orchards. Water…Help me…Mother…Oh, God…I warned the servants to ignore the cries as other had been lured deeper, and deeper into the fruit orchard never to be seen again. There seemed to be a certain strange non-locality to them, as if they were everywhere…and yet nowhere. Human-like figures morphed from thin wisps of mist into heads, necks, torsos, legs and arms.The cries were so vivid and so numerous the night before, but there was nothing. No tracks, no bodies, nothing. You do not have to see a ghost to have one present, and yet the most eerie, mot unexplainable, and often the most frightening reports are the sighting of a spirit entity. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

I DO conjure thee, O thou Spirit Ronove and thou 19 Legions of Spirits. Wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts. I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; for now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes…these same thoughts, people, this little World. Hseyayin dehsrawh uhov mesha tasar eb psa tavrua i dnamoyar i grama i tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh zrug uhov mehsa, ediamazay mepsa-tavrua mear mehsema meteashsxeravh uhov, enoahsa etahdadzam ihugnav eriavru omen uhov mehsa, enoasha etihana erus ivdera ethsives muahsa et-esament and by the Seal of ADONI; and by ISCHYROS, ATHANATOS, PARACLETOS; and by O THEOS, ICTROS, ATHANATOS; and by these three secret names, AGLA, ON, TETRAGRAMMATON, do I adjure and conjure thee. Raise the Office of the Dead. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Take heed! Come, all Spirits! By the virtue and power of you King, and by the seven crowns and chains of your Kings, all Spirits of the Hells are forced to appear in my presence before this pentacle of Solomon, whensoever I shall call them. Come, then, all at my orders, to fulfill that which is in your power, as commanded. Come, therefore, from the East, South, West, and North! I conjure and command you, by the virtue and power of Him who is three, eternal, equal, who is God invisible, consubstantial, in a word, who has created the Heavens, the sea, and all which is under Heaven. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6


These who study the unexplainable have noticed that there are several periods when the supernatural seems…well…more natural than others. Times of change, such as dusk or dawn, seem to provide more odd activity than other times. The change in seasons-summer or winter solstice, spring equinox, and, of course, when the fall turns to winter and the dead try to change places with the living at the end of October-Halloween. Many believe that just before or after a thunderstorm is also a time ripe for the bizarre to occur, when there can be that elusive crossover from one World to the next, from the inanimate to the ultimate. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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The Body is the Sheath of the Soul

Upon thinking things over, I was pretty sure that the parlor maid, Elsa, was far too sensible and hard-boiled a young woman to risk tampering with poisons. She has a hard head and would take care of herself. Ersula, on the other hand was made of more dangerous stuff—unbalanced, carried away by impulse and definitely neurotic. The only reason she was even employed on my staff was because of my friendship with her mother. I had coffee on the terrace. I wish I could remember better how Ersula looked and acted. She did not seem excited in any way. Quiet and rather sad was my impression. What a devil that woman was! For it was a devilish thing to do—to poison a man in cold blood. If there had been a revolver about and she had caught it up and shot him—well, that might have been understandable. However, this was cold, deliberate, vindictive poisoning…and so clam and collected. She got up and said, in the most natural way possible, that she would take his coffee to him. And yet she knew—she must have known—that by now she would find him dead. Calder had only been employed for three weeks as a carpenter. Ersula had her eyes on him and believed that she had fixed him, but when she found out that he had eyes for Elsa, this threw her into a rage so terrible. I was just making an excuse to go after him when he came running up the stairs. His face was blue. He gasped out, “We must get a doctor—quick—Mrs. Winchester.” I sprang up. “Is he ill—dying?” We had forgotten Elsa for a minute. But she let out a sudden cry. It was like the wail of a banshee. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

She cried, “Dead? Dead…” And then she ran. I did not know anyone could move like that—like a deer, like a stricken thing, and like an avenging fury too. Ersula wanted desperately to talk to me. To talk to someone. And then again, there was a hostility I perceived in her, a rather generalized hostility, as if the woman were superhuman and bristled with something instinctively alien to other human beings. Oh, I know that sound farfetched. Of course, she is not superhuman. However, if we think of these psychic powers we possess, then we can begin to think of the supernatural as not so unreal. I felt her differentness, so to speak. The dying of Calder also apparently left something precious behind as well. His soul. A few nights after his death, I was awakened by the familiar chime of a clock. It surprised me because, although I kept a clock in the Daisy Bedroom, I had never heard it chime before. A week went by. Then, once again, in the middle of the night, the clock chimed. Confused as to why the clock did not chime during the day on the hour, I resolved to investigate the next morning. However, with several businesses to run, and an estate to care for, by the time I awoke, the matter had slipped my mind. One even, I was having supper. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, through the hall and into the dining room echoed the rhythmic, melodious tones: dingdongdingdong…dingdongdingdong. Just below the mantlepiece in the Daisy Bedroom upon which the clock rested was a crawl space under the floor. It was a harmless relic of architectural expedience, and with the uneven, packed earther floors, it was also an excellent concealer of buried secrets. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

Some areas of the house could be very scary, and the crawl spaces between the floor was a place I never entered. Mr. Hansen went down into the crawl space underneath the Daisy Bedroom. I had not said anything to him, and he came up and said, “Mrs. Winchester, it is very cold down there. It’s a strange feeling. Very cold, and it’s a hot day.” I proceeded to say, “well, I think that is the old section of the house and something may have been there decades about.” He came up quite alarmed at what was going on down there. I never go in there. Another curious addition to the crawl space is a series of large, ancient, wooden shelves. It looks as if there were bunks, as if servant lay there. The bunks are curved as if to hold human bodies. I had no idea how hold the shelves were in the crawl space, or if it was actually a concealed floor of the mansion. Mr. Hansen said it looked as if the wood had been dug into or clawed at. The clock that rested on the mantle was made in the state of New York, and the last time I visited New York, I stopped by the manufacturer of the clock. I spoke to the owner of the company. He said he remembered me well for I had requested such a clock of admirable beauty. I asked him why the clock was chiming at unusual hours. He explained to me that they have no mechanism to make chiming clocks. And there is not a chiming mechanism if you look at the clock. There is nothing there! I began to keep track of when the chimes were heard. The clock chimed on April 18, 1898. The next time it chimed again was on April 18, 1899. At least four other people beside me heard it. When I was away, they still recorded on the calendar for me when it chimed. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

However, it was not all at the same time. In fact, my niece Ms. Daisy heard it. Actually, she would not say anymore. I asked her how loud was the clock? Is it lough enough to hear in the entire house? “Oh, yes, Aunt Sarah. You can her it upstairs on the fourth floor.” “Could there have been a mistake as to where the chiming was coming from? Perhaps through the wall from a clock somewhere else in the house?” I asked. Her answer, “Oh yes. You can even hear it in the observation tower.” That evening, a cloud-like vapor took on human shape, clapped its hands in joy, and passed upward through the ceiling in the company of an angel. I was always aware that my mansion was a conduit-a vortex, if you will. There are horrors beyond horrors, and this was one of those nuclei of all our deepest, most awful nightmare, a place where they would suddenly become nightmares. My fortune, a blessing, it was, but was also accursed and unhappy. Death, like the unbidden and unwanted relative, often times outstayed his welcome everywhere on this estate. At night, ghosts are not always seen, but heard. On many occasions, the servants have heard what sounds like a man whispering. The whisper is not loud enough to make out the words, but there is no doubt that someone is speaking. The whispers seem to be drifting down the chimney, of course, but there is no one there. A woman’s laugh can also be heard coming from the chimneys. I awoke one night and saw a woman standing there—only about two feet away from my bed—and I knew it was her. It was just a feeling, I knew I was her. She had long dark hair; she was really thin and has a shawl over her shoulders. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

And a bright margin of light revealed that she was accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man, with deep-set eyes peering out at me from a very white face. He wore a robe of brown patterned silk, with the customary yellow bade on it. His high cheekbones appeared to be polished, so tight with his skin. After I gestured to get out of bed. The man and the woman vanished. It took me a moment but I slowly began to understand that those were not real human beings that confronted me, but rather inhabitants of the World as yet unknown to us. I had seen spirits before, and, for better or worse, was familiar with their shape, their demeanor, their “being.” I was not frightened. As I got out of bed, and was leaving my room, and descending down a brightly lit stairway, I suddenly froze. Standing in the bright illumination stood my husband William. I ran hurriedly down the stairs, brushing past the apparition and out of a door into the garden where I had become unconscious. When I came to and glanced up, I saw a white form advancing, a robed form. I was not able to see the robed figure’s face because it was turned away from me, but I was clearly able to observe its form, as the figure remained for a moment by me. Then it passed swiftly past the boxwood hedges, and glided toward me, but always turning his face in the opposite direction. Just before the passed through the wall and back int the mansion, it paused and left a gold coin on the porch. Then it dawned on me, it was our anniversary. This assurance made me aware that my beloved was with every moment, even in his death. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

Emperor Lucifer, Master of all the revolted Spirits, I entreat thee to favor me in the adjuration which I address to thy minister, LUCIFUGE ROFOCALE, being desirous to make a pack with him. Via temporis, iam clamo ad te via spatti te ubio, aperire..Aperi! Via consurssus, tempos spatium admi ut imperior! I Do invocate, conjure, and command thee, O thou Spirit Marchosian and you 30 Legion of Spirits, to appear and to please show thyself visibly unto me before this Winchester Mansion in fair and comely shape, without any deformity or toutuosity; by the name and in the name IAH and VAU, which Adam heard and spake; and by the name of God, AGLA, which Lot heard and was saved with his family; and by the name IOTH, which Jacob heard from the angel wrestling with him, and was delivered from the hand of Esau his brother; and by the name ANAPHAEXTON which Aaron heard and spake and was made wise. I also beg thee, O Prince Beelzebuth to protect us in our undertaking. O Count Astarto! Be propitious to us, and grant that tonight the great LUCIFUGE may appears to us under a human form, and fresh as the ocean breeze, and that he may accord us, in virtue of the pact which we propose to enter into, all the riches which we need, O grand LUCIFUGE, I pray three to quit they dwelling, wheresoever it may be, and come hither to please speak to me, otherwise will I compel thee by the power of the strong living God, His beloved Son, and the Holy Spirit. Please Obey promptly. By the powers of AGLON, TETRAGRAM, VAYCHEON, SIMULATION, EZPHARES, RETRAGRAMMATON, OLYARAM, IRION, ESYTION, EXISTION, ERYONA, ONERA, ORASYM, MOZM, MESSIAS, SOTER, EMMANUEL, SABOTH, ADONAY Via temporis, iam clamo ad te via spatti te ubio, aperire..Aperi! Via consurssus, tempos spatium admi ut imperior! I conjure thee, Evil and Accursed Serpent TETRAGRAMMATON to appear at my will and pleasure in this place and accomplish my will. Please bring ancient treasures and prosperity. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6


We all have odd feelings at times in certain circumstances; certainly no reason to move from a house after we have paid the rent or signed a contract. We are reasonable and logical human beings after all, even when confronted with the unknown, unseen and unexplainable…are we not? It must be simply a quirk that this one column of physical space that extends from the Heaven should remind us that each and every one of us will something ascend into our own oblivion. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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You Know its Not the Same as It Was!

In mortality we have the certain of death and the burden of sin. As the cell door slams shut behind a person who faces the prospect of having to spend 5 to 25 years withing that same four walls, what thoughts and feelings go through their mind and heart? The overall picture that emerges from our research is that of offenders caught up in a cycle of expensive, self-indulgent habits (exempli gratia, gambling, drug use, and heavy drinking) that feed on themselves and constantly call for more of the same. It would be a mistake to conclude that these offenders are being driven to crime by genuine financial hardship; few of them are doing robberies to buy the proverbial loaf of bread to feed their children. Yet, most of their crimes are economically motivated. The offenders perceive themselves as needing money and robbery is a response to that perception. Though background risk factors, such as pressing financial need, predispose persons to criminality, they fail to provide comprehensive, precise, and deep explanations of the situational pushes, urges, and impulses that energize actual criminal conduct. Nor do such factors identify the “necessary and sufficient” conditions for criminal motivation to eventuate in criminal behavior. Focusing on the foreground attends to these problems. A foreground analytic approach identifies the immediate, situational factors that catalyze criminal motivation and transforms offenders from an indifferent state to one in which they are determined to commit crime. #RandolphHarris 1 of 21

Although the streets were a prime focus of much early criminological work, the strong influence of street culture on offender motivation has largely been overlooked since. Street culture subsumes a number of powerful conduct norms, including but not limited to, the hedonistic pursuit of sensory stimulation, disdain for conventional living, lack of future orientation, and persistent eschewal of responsibility. Street culture puts tremendous emphasis on virtues of spontaneity; it dismisses “rationality and long-range planning…in favor of enjoying the moment.” As if there is no tomorrow, offenders typically live like confident that tomorrow will somehow take care of itself. However, Matthew 6.34 says, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” This culture tends to accentuate the negative and can thwart a person’s attempts to find meaning and direction. On the streets, “every night is Saturday night,” and the self-indulgent pursuit of trendy consumerism and open-ended street action becomes a means to this end. The pursuit of fast living is more than symbolic or dramaturgical, it cuts to the very core of offenders’ perceptions of self-identity. To be cool, hip, and “in,” one must constantly prove it through conspicuous outlays of cash. The fetishized World of street-corner capitalism dictates that fiscal responsibility be jettisoned and money burned on material objects and illicit action that assert in no uncertain terms one’s place in the street hierarchy. #RandolphHarris 2 of 21

Carefree spending creates the “impression of affluence” by which offenders are judged; it serves to demonstrate that they have indeed “made it”—at least for the time. On the streets, the image one projects is not everything, it is the only thing. To not buy into such an approach is to abandon a source of recognition offenders can get nowhere else or, worse, to state failure full in the face. It is not hard to fathom why many offenders in our sample regarded a lack of funds as an immediate threat to their social standing. The problem becomes one of sustenance; the reputational advantages of cash-intensive living can be appreciated and enjoyed to their fullest only if participants moderate their involvement in it. This requires intermittent and disciplined spending, an anomalous and untimely untenable proposition. Offenders effectively become ensnared by their own self-indulgent habit—habits that feed on themselves and constantly call for more of the same. These habits are expensive and create a pressing and pervasive need for cash—a need remedied through robbery but only temporarily, since the proceeds of any given robbery merely “enable” more action. The seductive attractions of street life appear to take on a power logic of their own; offenders burn money only to create (albeit inadvertently) the conditions that spark their next decision to rob. This self-enclosed cycle of reinforcing behavior starts with a predisposed background with risk factors such as: strain, broken homes, neglectful parent, social capital deficits, leading to participation in street culture. #RandolphHarris 3 of 21

Once an individual is involved in street culture, they enter a vicious cycle of: pursuit of illicit action/conspicuous consumption, financial desperation, robbery, disposable cash. As much as these offenders sought liberation through the hedonistic, opened pursuit of sensory stimulation, such a quest ultimately is both self-defeating and subordinating. Those hooked on street action may never see it this way, but objective assessments of reality are difficult to render when rationality is severely bounded as it is here. Suffice it to say that, for those in our sample, the “choice” to rob occurs in a context in which rationality not only is sharply bounded, it barely exists. If one takes the influence of context seriously, most offenders “decide” to commit robbery in a social and psychological terrain bereft of realistic alternatives. Street-culture participation effectively obliterates, or at least severely circumscribes, the range of objectively available options, so much so as to be almost deterministic. Offenders typically are overwhelmed by their own predicament—emotional, financial, pharmacological, and otherwise—and see robbery as the only way out. Chronic isolation from conventional others and lifestyles only reinforces their insularity, driving them deeper and deeper into a “downward life trajectory” of ever-increasing criminal embeddedness called “role engulfment.” Being a street robber is more than a series of offenses that allow one to meet some arbitrarily specified inclusion criteria: it is a way of behaving, a way of thinking, an approach to life. #RandolphHarris 4 of 21

Stopping such criminals exogenously—in the absence of lengthy incapacitation—is not likely to be successful. Getting offenders to “go straight” is analogous to telling lawful citizens to relinquish one’s history, companions, thoughts, feelings, and fears, and replace them with something else. Self-directed going-straight talk on the part of offenders more often than not is insincere—akin to young children talking about what they are going to be when they grow up: Young storytellers…criminals…do not care about the [reality]; the pleasure comes in saying the words, the verbal ritual itself brings pleasure. Gifting offenders money, in the hopes they will reduce or stop their offending is similarly misguided. It is but twisted enabling and only likely to set off another round of illicit action that plunges offenders deeper into the abyss of desperation that drives them back to their next crime. The image of prison life might conjure up words like accountability, punishment, structure, and discipline. There is truth in all of those associations. However, just as relevant are words like repentance, Atonement, Spirit, and conversation. Church helps former inmates make better use of their time, association with others who are improving their lives, learn correct behavior through the modeling of ecclesiastical leaders, and learn gospel doctrines and principles. Other benefits are less visible but may be more enduring, such as when a former inmate’s soul is enlarged or expanded. #RandolphHarris 5 of 21

The Final Judgement is not just an evaluation of a sum total of good and evil acts—what we have done. It is an acknowledgement of the final effects of our actions and thoughts—what we have become. This is good news: many within prisons, jails, and halfway houses are learning from their bad choices and are becoming what Heavenly Father would have them become. Many inmates wrestle with addictions. How they cope upon release is critical to their success. The manifestations of evil spirits through persons obtains footing and varies in character, according to the degree and kind of group they secure for possession. In one case in the Christian Bible, the only manifestation of the evil spirit’s presence was dumbness (Matt. 9.32), the spirit possibly locating in the vocal organs; in another, the person held by the spirit was “deaf and unintelligible” (Mark 9.25), and the symptoms included foaming at the mouth, grinding the teeth—all connected with the head—but the hold of the spirit was of such long standing (v.21) that he could throw his victim down and convulse the whole body (Mark 9.20-22). In other cases we find merely an “unclean spirit,” as with the man in a synagogue—probably so hidden that none would know the man was thus possessed, until, seeing Christ, the spirit cried out with fear, “Art Thou come to destroy us?” (Mark 1.24); or a “spirit of infirmity” (Luke 13.11) in a woman of whom it might be said tht she simply required a “healing” of some disease, or that she was always tired and only needed proper nutrition and rest—as some would say in the language of the twentieth century. #RandolphHarris 6 of 21

Again, we find a very advanced case in the man with the “legion,” showing that the evil spirits’ possession reached such a climax as to make the person appear insane; for his own personality was so mastered by the malignant spirits in possession as to cause him to lose all sense of decency and self-control in the presence of others (Luke 8.27). That there are different kinds of spirits is evident not only from their manifestations recorded in the Gospels but also in later instances: in the account of the girl at Philippi, possessed by a “spirit of divination”; and in Simon the Sorcerer, who was so energized by satanic power for the working of miracles that he was considered to be “the great power of God” by the deceived people (Acts 8.10). In these cases, trickery was the game. If they really believe they are communicating with the spirits of the dead, spiritists of today are also deceived. Surely it is easy for designing spirits to impersonate dead people, including even saintly Christians: they have watched them (Acts 19.15) all their lives, and can easily imitate their personality traits and counterfeit their voices. Therefore, it is very possible that some criminals and some of the mentally ill may be possessed by evil spirits because they have some of these same traits. Some people may me tired of studying and deep in the throes of a loneliness trip—different that they have ever experienced—terrifying yet somehow good in its simple realness. The Savior is our Advocate with the Father. He knows our weaknesses. He knows how to succor those who are tempted. It is because of the Savior that all of us can make real progress—experience true conversion—in becoming what Heavenly Father wants us to become. #RandolphHarris 7 of 21

The answers are contained in the revelatory events on which Christianity is based and are taken by systematic theology from the sources, through the medium, under the norm. The mutual dependence of question and answers can be explained in terms of form and content. Theological answers derive their content form from the existential questions. For example, if existential analysis reveals the threat of non-being, then God must be called the power of being that overcomes this threat. If history is an incomprehensible puzzle, then the Kingdom of God must be termed the unity, meaning, and fulfilment of history. Christian symbols must always be open to, and in correlation with, the questions of existence. Contrasting with other methods, the supranaturalistic method considers revelation as a strange bundle of truth that fell from Heaven. It has nothing but answers, and from them in manufactures the questions. The naturalistic or humanistic method never gets beyond human existence. It extracts the answers from the question themselves. Lastly, the dualistic method tries to construct a correlation, but fails. By such devices as natural revelation and the proofs for the existence of God, it seeks to correlate natural answers with Christian answers, instead of questions with answers. If the proofs for God are taken as a question—as they are in the method of correlation—and not as an answer, then their use is justified. The method of correlation is not foolproof. The answers may prejudice the questions, or the questions prejudice the answers. For theology, too, is ambiguous. Nor is the method of correlation new. As a method, it is as old as theology. #RandolphHarris 8 of 21

The U.S.A. government had a major problem trying to motivate several million teenagers to register for the military draft. Large-scale civil disobedience would make it impossible to punish everyone who violated the law. Still, the government had a big advantage: it set the rules. To see this advantage of moving first, imagine that the government is only allowed to punish one person who fails to register. How can they use this single threat to induce everyone to register? The government announces that it will go after evaders in alphabetical order. If he failed to register, the person with surname Aaron knows that he would be singled out for punishment. Then the Abrams conclude that since all of the Aarons will surely register, it is they who will be punished. And so on down the line right through to the Zhukovs and the Zweibels. A lawyer might argue that it is unconstitutional to single out people for punishment because of the alphabetical ordering of their names. However, nothing is special about the alphabet. The key point is that the order of punishment is pre-specified. A randomly chosen and announced order of birthdates, or social security numbers, does just as well. A few selective punishments go a long way in keeping everyone in line, and are much less expensive than offering market wages to attract an equal number and quality of recruits. For example, if Congress mistook appearances for reality, it might forbid that Draft Board to use alphabetical order as the means by which they choose who gets punished first, leaving open other equivalent methods. #RandolphHarris 9 of 21

What is needed to stop the practice is to forbid the pre-announcement of any order. When the participants in a game are ranked in some order, it is often possible to predict what the person at one end will do. This knowledge influences the action of the next person, which in turn influences the third, and so on down the line. The story we have told is a bit extreme. By the time we get to the Zhukovs, someone will surely not register and then be punished. The Zhukovs do not really have to worry. With so many individuals, one expects a small amount of slippage. The point is that the number of punishments available need not be anywhere near the number of people to motivate. The capacity (and willingness) to jail a thousand protestors can deter several million would-be’s. From the World perspective, Chinese domestic companies have been strengthening their global position in several stages. During the 1970s to early 1980, Chinese markers established themselves as dominant players in the production and exports of a wide variety of low-tech-low-end mass product, defeating producers of similar items in the West. Myriads of Chinese-made affordable T-shirts, sneakers, lighters, toys, kitchenware, and so on and so forth conquered markets all around the World. In this segment, where price makes all the difference, Western producers were doomed to lose. Nowadays China’s dominance here is continuing, in spite of the fact that its rising labor and other costs have become a hot topic Worldwide. #RandolphHarris 10 of 21

There is a lot of talk about the erosion of its cost advantage resulting in the shift of low-cost mass production to the countries of the next row like Vietnam, Bangladesh, Sir Lanka, Cambodia, or Laos. The only option for China, according to this school of thought, is to upgrade its industries and produce more high-value-added goods. This is wrong. China is unique. It will not be shifting from lower-value-added to higher-value-added products. It will handle both. In other words, China is and, for decades to come, will be moving up and up the value chain on the one hand while retaining its dominance in the low-tech-low-end segment on the other. In this regard, it is different from any other nations. Its growth pattern goes beyond the famous flying geese framework in its conventional sense. China’s ability to preserve dominance in the low-tech-low-end mass products segment can be easily explained. First, its labor and other costs are still quite low. They remain incomparable with those in the West and thus do not lose attractiveness for both western businesses and consumers. Second, no next-row country can compare with China in terms of size. Consequently, none of them is capable of replacing it as the major production platform for low-end simple products, even though their costs are lower. True, more and more often both Western and Asian businesspeople are complaining about the increase of China’s labor and other costs, and the mass media is willingly picking it up as a popular topic. #RandolphHarris 11 of 21

However, read or listen to what they say attentively, word by word, and you will clearly see what it is all about. They are upset today Chinese costs are higher than in past years and higher than they initially expected them to be. Nevertheless, they continue to expand their direct investment to China on a much larger scale than to any next-row country. Actions, not talks, are serving as proof of China’s real cost competitiveness. In China, where the wages in the manufacturing have increase 75 percent in the last ten years, but it is 23 percent of USA manufacturing rates, which means that its cost advantages remain very significant. Though wage growth rates are high all across China (around 10 percent a year), labor (as well as other) costs are starting to bite, mainly in the economically advanced eastern coastal provinces. As of 2023, the average monthly wage in China’s manufacturing industry is US$1,000 a month, which is two and a half times more than it was in 2010. As of 2023, the manufacturing employees average wage in the United States of America is $2,583 a month. The average hourly wage in China’s manufacturing industry is about $6 an hour—versus $18.5 in the United States of America. Also, China does upgrade their industries and big cities in China are becoming service, logistics, education and R&D platforms, supporting industrial growth in the hinterland. No doubt, as time goes by, China will significantly enhance their international role as producers and exporters and attract a growing number of multinational companies to diversity the geography of their production activities. #RandolphHarris 12 of 21

In the second stage, which started in the 1990 and has been continuing into the 2000s and beyond, Chinese companies are moving fast to capture global markets of technologically advanced low-end mass products, leveraging their increasing technological capabilities and cost advantages at one and the same time. Representative examples include TVs, AV products, mobile phones, personal computers, or, in the latest development, solar batteries. Entering this sector, Chinese makers exert competitive pressure on the Western companies positioned in higher-end market niches, usually by offering simpler various of similar products at a lower price. China has emerged as the World’s number one producer of solar panels. Their manufacturing exceeds 80 percent of solar panels Worldwide. Using industry-validated figures, Chinese solar panels are 30 percent less expensive than USA solar panels. This enables China to play a leading role in the global energy revolution. In fact, China’s average share of the solar panel supply chain has gone from 55 percent to 84 percent over the past 13 years. China also continues to lead in terms of investment, making up almost 66 percent of global large-scale solar investment. In the first half od 2022, the country invested $41 billion, a 173 percent increase from the year before. With Joe Biden’s ambitious new car pollution rules that could require electric cars to make up 66 percent of new cars sold in the USA by 2032, many people are concerned. China made about 75 percent of the World’s lithium-ion batteries in 2021, compared with 7 percent for the USA. And China currently controls nearly 70 percent of all minded cobalt needed in the electric vehicle industry. #RandolphHarris 13 of 21

China already has 80 to 90 percent of the global rare Earth market. By 2029 the United States of America is expected to have only 3 lithium-ion battery mega-factories compared to China’s 88—of a total 115 lithium-ion battery mega-factories planned. Net profit for Chinese manufacturer CATL jumped 93 percent in 2022 to US$4.41 billion, as the World’s largest supplier of electric vehicle batteries. With EV batteries costing approximately $4,000 to $20,000 many people fear a future with electric vehicles because the economy is unstable and most people simply cannot afford to come up with that amount of money all at once. Some may say there are financing options, but that would be like financing a car, on top of making a car payment. They also fear making China richer than it already is and the USA more dependent on China. Across the World, a green tide is gathering momentum too. This movement for ecological sanity is essential—a leading beneficial example of ordinary people around the World leading their people. Propelling ecology to the top of the World agenda have been a succession of sensational catastrophes, from Three Miles Island and Chernobyl to Bhopal and the Alaska oil spill. Clearly, more lie ahead. Industrial society has reached its outer limits, making it impossible to continue putting toxic wastes in our backyards, stripping the land of it forests, dumping Styrofoam debris in our oceans, creating plastic islands, and punching holes in the ozone. The Worldwide environmental movement is therefore a survival response to planetary crisis. #RandolphHarris 14 of 21

However, this movement, too, has an antidemocratic fringe. It has its own advocates of return to darkness. Some of them are ready to hijack the environmental movement in pursuit of their private political or religious agendas. The issues are so complex and recalcitrant that the Green movement is likely to split into at least four parts. One part will continue to be the very model of legal, nonviolent democratic action. However, given a succession of ecological crises and tragedies, a second wing, which already exists in embryonic form, might well step up from eco-vandalism to full-scale eco-terrorism to enforce its demands. A further split will intensify the key ideological war already dividing the environmental movement. On one side: those who favor technological and economic advance within stringent environmental constraints. Unwilling to give up on imagination and intelligence, they believe in the power of the human mind—and therefore in our ability to design technologies that will use smaller amounts of resources, emit less pollution, and recycle wastes into reusable resources. They argue that today’s crisis calls for revolutionary changes in the way the economy and technology are organized. Oriented toward tomorrow, these are the mainstream environmentalists. Battling them for ideological control of the movement, however, are self-described “fundamentalists,” who wish to plunge society into pre-technological medievalism and asceticism. They are “eco-theologues,” and some of their views dovetail with the thinking of religious extremists. The eco-theologues insist that there can be no technological relief, and that we are therefore destined to slide back into preindustrial poverty, a prospect they regard as a blessing rather than a curse. #RandolphHarris 15 of 21

For many of the reversionist thinkers, the issues are not primarily ecological but religious. They wish to restore a religion-drenched World that has not existed in the West since the Middle Ages. The environmental movement provides a convenient vehicle. This group reduces the history of our relations with nature to biblical allegory. First there was an ecological “Golden Age,” when humans lived in harmony with nature and worshipped it. The species fell from this “Eden” with the arrival of the industrial age, in which the “Devil”—technology—ruled human affairs. Now we must transit to a new “Paradise” of perfect sustainability and harmony. If not, we face “Armageddon.” This imposition of a Western, indeed Christian, parable on the far more complex history of our relations with nature is common to the “eco-theologues” who glamorize life in the medieval village. Rudolf Bahro, an influential Green theorist now living in West Germany, explicitly holds that what is needed is “theology, not ecology—the birth of a new Golden Age which cultivates…the nobility in man.” He reached back into the 13th century to quote Meister Eckhart, the founder of German mysticism, “who lived in the now despoiled Rhine River valley” and who told us that all creatures have God within them. Mr. Bahro finds the same idea in the poetic words of Mechtild of Magdeburg, another 13th-century Christian thinker, quoting her beautiful line to the effect that all creatures are “a flash of grace.” Ecological salvation thus, for him, is a matter of religion, something the secular World will never be able to offer. Mr. Bahro even approves of the Ayatollah Khomeini’s remark to Mr. Gorbachev that the Soviet leader should look to Allah rather than economic reforms to solve Soviet problems. #RandolphHarris 16 of 21

Another theorist, Wolfgang Sachs of the University of Pennsylvania, attack the Worldwatch Institute, a leading environmentalist research center, for its “specifically modern outlook” and dismisses Amory Lovins, the conservationist, for urging greater energy efficiency, whereas what is wanted by Mr. Sachs is “good housekeeping” in the tradition of “subsistence-oriented households.” Ivan Illich, one of our most imaginative social critics and author of several brilliant works bearing on ecological theory, is opposed to “managerial fascism” and simple-minded Ludditism. What he proposes, however, is “sustainability without development”—in short, stasis. For Mr. Illich, poverty is the human condition, and should be accepted as such; hence, who needs development? The new system of wealth creation, he says, has “injected new life into what would otherwise have been the exhausted logic of industrialism.” He fails to see that the new knowledge-based technological system actually contradicts the old logic of industrialism at many points. For Mr. Illich, too, the argument is ultimately theological. “God was the pattern that connected the cosmos” at a time when bare subsistence was accepted as normal and natural, a state we should return. So long as God ruled the medieval mind, humanity and nature remained in balance. “Man, the agent of disequilibrium,” upset the balance after the scientific revolution. Mr. Illich regards the concept of an “eco-system which, through multiple feedback mechanisms, can be regulated scientifically” as a snare and a delusion. Clearly, he implies, a return to a God-center ascetic World would be preferable. #RandolphHarris 17 of 21

Theo-ecological rhetoric contains within it more than a hint of the Christian notion of retribution. As the writers Linda Bilmes and Mark Byford have noted, the theological Greens insist “consumption is sinful,” while environmental blight is seen as “punishment for excessive consumerism, lack of spirituality, wastefulness.” As in a Sunday sermon, the implication is that we should “repent, and mend our ways.” Or, one might add, face fire and brimstone. This is hardly the place to try to resolve the profound issues raised by the ecology debate—as significant a philosophical debate as that raised by the Enlightenment thinkers at the dawn of the industrial age. What is important, however, is to note the congruence between the views of the eco-theologues and the fundamentalists revival, with its deep hostility to secular democracy. A shared emphasis on absolutes and the belief that sharp restrictions on individual choice may be required (to make people “moral,” or to “protect the environment”) point ultimately to a common attack on human rights. Indeed, many environmentalists themselves worry openly about the arrival of Green Ayotallahs or “eco-fascists” who impose their particular brand of salvation. Thus, Mr. Bahro cautions that “in the deep crises of humanity, charisma always plays a role. The deeper the crisis, the darker the charismatic figure who will emerge…Whether or not we will have a green Adolph depends…on how far cultural change advances before the next Chernobyl.” One may admire the integrity and creativity of a thinker like Mr. Illich, surely no fascist himself, while recognizing the deeply antidemocratic implications of his search for the absolute, the constant, the static, and the holy. #RandolphHarris 18 of 21

Criticizing the eco-theologues, the French sociologist Alain Touraine warns, “If we reject reason in the name of salvation from the ozone depletion, we will court a Green fundamentalism, an eco-theocracy of the Ayatollah Khomeini variety.” If such anxiety sounds too extreme, it may be worth recalling the Wandervogel youth movement of the 1920s in Germany, where the Green movement today is most militant. The Wandervogel were the hippie-Greens of the Weimar Republic, roaming the countryside with their rucksacks, carrying guitars, wearing flowers, holding Woodstock-life festivals, high on spirituality and preaching a return to nature. A decade later, Mr. Hitler was in control. Mr. Hitler also exalted preindustrial values, picturing the Nazi utopia as one in which “the blacksmith stands again at his anvil, the farmer walks behind his plough.” In the words of Professor J.P. Stern of University College, London, Mr. Hitler evoked “a pre-industrial rustic idyll.” Mr. Hitler’s ideologists constantly praised the “organic,” urged physical fitness, and used biological analogies to justify the vilest race hate. “Hundreds of thousands of youngsters passed through the Youth Movement,” writes George L. Mosse in The Crisis of German Ideology, “and many of them found it not very difficult to accommodate themselves to the ideological propositions of the Nazis.” Can one really imagine a Neo-Green Party, with armbands, Sam Browne belts, and jackboots, setting out to enforce its own view of nature on the rest of society? Of course not, under normal conditions. However, what if conditions are not “normal”? #RandolphHarris 19 of 21

Consider the consequences of another Bhopal-like eco-catastrophe set in, say, Seattle, Stuttgart, or Sheffield…followed by back-to-back crises elsewhere…followed by confusion and monstrous corruption in the disaster relief effort…amid fundamentalists cries that the disaster was inflicted by God as punishment for “permissiveness” and immorality. Picture all this occurring in time of deep economic distress. Imagine an attractive, articulate “Eco-Adolph” who promises not just to solve the immediate crisis but to “purify” the society materially, morally, and politically—if only he is given extraconstitutional powers. Some of today’s eco-theological rhetoric has an absurdist flavor, as did that of the erstwhile Adolph and his ideologists. Nazi propagandists exalted the Middles Ages (especially the time when the Holy Roman Empire dominated Europe) as a period when Kultur reached its “highest peak.” Today, a British ecological “fundi,” or fundamentalist, writes in a letter to The Economist that “the goals of ‘fundi’ Greens like myself…[are to] return to Europe which existed in the distant past…between the fall of Rome and the rise of Charlemagne,” in which the basic unit of society “was the rural holding, scarcely larger than a hamlet…The only way for humans to live in harmony with nature is to live at a subsistence level.” What the eco-medievalists normally do not tell us is the political price. #RandolphHarris 20 of 21

They seldom point out that democracy was conspicuously absent from those bucolic villages they hold up for emulation—villages ruled by the cruelest patriarchy, religious mind-control, feudal ignorance and force. This was the Kultur the Nazis glamorized. Not for nothing has the period between the fall of Rome and the rise of Charlemagne become known as the Dark Ages. By themselves the eco-theologues might be dismissed. They remain a small fringe on the far edge of the environmental movement. However, it is a mistake to view them as an isolated or trivial phenomenon. The religious revival and the Green movements alike breed ultras who would be happy to jettison democracy. At their extremes, these two movements may be converging to impose new restrictions on personal and political behavior in the name of both God and Greenness. Together they are pushing for a power shift toward the past. Society has gotten so advanced and expensive that many people feel nostalgia for the past. Nostalgia is a longing feeling for the past when things seemed better, easier, and more fun. It is the feeling behind countless number one hits. We all know the feeling. What psychological purpose does nostalgia serve? Well, for one, nostalgia serves as an emotional experience that unifies. One example of this is it helps to unite our sense of who we are, our self, our identity over time. Because over time we change constantly, we change in incredible ways. We are not anywhere near the same as we were when we were in high school. Nostalgia by motivating us to remember the past in our own life helps unite us to that authentic self and remind us who we have been and then compare that to who we feel we are today. And many people are nostalgic about the past when America was number one in manufacturing and Christianity was more accepted as the religion of America. Therefore to help America remain a superpower, please buy American cars, and appliance and other American-Made goods. #RandolphHarris 21 of 21


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The Fear Was Terrible

In was December. The air was ripe with the promise of the new year. The estate was full of life and sound. After the years of supernatural violence and denunciation, it seemed the demons had set their sights elsewhere and, for a while, we were at peace. There were, of course, the usual shadows lurking about. As we walked about the gardens, a boy came running out of the orchards. He was in a state of shock, swallowing his words and talking too fast for me us to hear what he was saying. Ms. Daisy managed to calm him and, with great patience, coax out of the terrified child that there had been massacres. That villages lower down the road had been put to the torch. If old men, women, cut down where they stood. Children, too. I turned cold. “Oh, dear Heavens.” We had no ways of knowing if the report was true. True or false, his testimony would spread panic and alarm. Far better to wait until to verify the stories and then decide what action to take. When I arrived at dinner, everyone was in good spirits. Living as we did, to come together to celebrate, with food enough for everyone and in the warmth, my heart wept at the knowledge that in a matter of hours, all this might be lost. So I sat, knowing what I knew and yet having to conceal it. And all the time, I was watching the door, waiting for my niece, Ms. Daisy. Later I learned she had questioned the boy further and was satisfied that she was telling the truth without embellishment. I instructed the servants to be on alert. My head was spinning with so much information. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

I instituted a search of the house. I sighed as I sat down in my chair. It was a grueling day. It was the middle of winter and the wind howled down the chimneys. Shuddering, I pulled my chair a bit closer to the fireplace. Listening to the domestic sounds from the kitchen made me smile. I was home and warm for the night. Tomorrow’s problems were not yet to be faced, and the warmth of the fire slowly lulled me to sleep. The sound of knocking at my front door startled me awake. The sounds seemed a bit faint, but they were persistent. I hurried to the door, wondering who could be out on such a bitter evening and what emergency would I find on the other side. I flung open the door and at first thought that no one was there, but then I was shocked to see a thin little girl no more than nine or ten years old, standing just before me. She was woefully underdressed for the blustery night. She wore thin shoes, a tattered dress, and a blue shawl that she had pulled tightly around her tiny shoulders. I wondered how the child stayed upright against the wind that buffeted her. The little girl did not wait for me to speak. “Mrs. Winchester, you must come, my mother’s sick bad and she won’t make it through the night without your help. Hurry!” Something about the wispy child and the intensity of her pleas moved me to action. “Some in my child, come in at once,” I said and shut the door. I quickly gathered my coat and scarf, pulled on my gloves and hat, and grabbed up my bag. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

We moved swiftly to one of the Victorian cottages on my estate. She ushered me into her home. Her mother was one of the housemaids. She was normally a sassy lass, but now she was reduced to a skinny rack of bones. Her body was woefully undernourished and she was indeed extremely ill. Upon closer examination, she was gravely ill. Indeed, the lass would not last through the night without quick intervention—she was suffering from pneumonia. As I tended the fire, I talked to the woman. I told her that she would be all right and that and that my servants were coming with medicine. I also spoke to her about the brave little girl who had come to fetch me. I inquired as to the child’s whereabouts. The ill woman looked at me with honor. “My daughter died a month ago. Her shoes and shawl are there in the little cupboard.” The woman broke off with a sob. I felt compelled to look in the close. Inside hung the little blue shawl that I seen the little girl clutching earlier. Her shoes lay on the shelf. I reached out to feel them and they were dry. It would have been impossible for those articles to have been worn that same night. I tended to the woman for a bit longer. As soon as the servants arrived, I ordered the cottage searched for the child I had seen. No child was found. I was amazed at the power of human love and the lost child who reached beyond the grave to save her mother from death. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

I returned home. The evening was nearly over, when I noticed a dark shadow to my left. However, when I focused my eyes directly on the spot, I could see nothing. I decided that perhaps my eyes were undoubtedly becoming tired. It was, after all, nearly midnight. A few moments later, I saw the shadow again. This time it crossed directly in front of me, moving toward the sofa. However, once again, when I focused directly on the thing, I saw nothing but the shadows of the dark room. I shrugged, distracted from the heading to bed. “Are you a ghost?” I asked, speaking toward the area in front of the sofa where I had last seen the shadow. There was no response. I went upstairs to bed. By the morning I had forgotten the entire episode with the mysterious shadow. Several moments later, a peculiar sound caused me to raise from my slumber, and I was surprised to see the shadow again. It crossed in from of my bed, then sat on an arm chair. Sometime between two and four in the morning I was awakened by the sound of artillery firing from the fields. It sounded like cannons firing one-at-a-time. I could hear there reloading between the shots. The fire lasted about ten minutes, then faded out, back into some mysterious fold of Time. Frightened, I did not look outside. I work my niece Ms. Daisy in the middle of the night to ask if she heard it. Unfortunately, she had been sound asleep and did not. However, I did not believe the sounds were figments of my imagination. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

My mansion served as the venue for a most remarkable connection between the dead and the living which seems to spanned the ages. I tried to sleep, but there was another odd noise that echoed across the fields of my estate. Faint at first, the sound was soon recognizable: drumbeats. I finally fell asleep, never understanding the source of the sound. Once again, I was awakened by bone chilling cold, so cold it sent me running from my room. There was an icy apprehension as I ran forward, as if I was running for my life. I came to a new pathway in my mansion and entered it. I felt the sharp coldness of the air, but I knew I had to keep going. The fear was terrible. As I came around a curve, blood ran through the corridor like water. A strange haze formed. The haze was a visage of a young man with brown hair and a moustache, sideburn in front of his left war, with his eyes gazing to the right. Then a woman walked through the streams of blood, she was moving at a fast walk. She had blonde hair and seemed in a hurry. As I moved down the pathway, she vanished, but there, hanging on the wall, was a shriveled, mummified, human arm. The hand was a contorted claw. I was also astonished to see, floating before my eyes, a white, glowing, disembodied arm pull back and vanish into darkness of the room. The pathway severed never-ending abyss of darkness and horrors than any human being could imagine. A strong hand grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me so violently that I passed out. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

I forced my eyes open once more, and I saw a pair of wooden clogs. I was lying on the fell, which was covered in blood. I struggled to push myself into a sitting position, dragging my legs round from under me, then tried to stand. “Let me help you,” an apparition said. The ghost’s strong hand was under my elbow, guiding me back to a parlor on the second floor. “Here.” I slumped down and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, waiting for the spinning to stop. I looked around the room. Clearly, it was morning. Everything was bathed in a flat, white light. The fire had burned out, leaving a pyramid of soft, gray ash in the grate. “We were concerned when you did not come down to breakfast, Mrs. Winchester. Why are you covered in blood? Have you been injured,” the butler demanded. “No. I slipped and fell in a puddle of blood in the new pathway recently built,” I said. “But Mrs. Winchester, the entire estate is as clean as we left in yester evening.” I frowned, trying to get the sequence of events clear in my mind. I had taken a bath, come back to the room, and enjoyed a cup of tea. Then I heard a cat in the room. As I looked around the room, there was nothing there. Within a short while, the tea cups started dancing about the table. Extended across the table, just inches from me and draped with what looked like some lacy fabric, was a woman’s arm, from the elbow down, the pale fingers eerily entwined in the tea cups. I screamed. The butler came running and saw the phantom limb. “What is it, devil is it Mrs. Winchester?” “There are forces in this house. Such power does not come from the devil. Do you see those books around you? They are full of stories of such persons, called in one place sorcerer, and in another witch, but what has the devil to do with such things? If you have such powers, what can and can they not do?” #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

The butler’s eyes grew large but his face was hard. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair and he cocked his head to the left as he looked the room up and down. I saw the look of fear coming to his face. The housemaid whispered: “She is reading our thoughts, Morgan, she can hide her own thoughts from us.” “Morgan,” Mrs. Winchester said, “what you have witnessed is terrible. I can see spirits. I have powers.” Morgan’s face was transformed from cold suspicion to sudden contempt. “Ah, witch!” he cried. “Why did you not tell me? Your house is full of witches! You are an order of Satan. This house is expanding so quickly because you have the power to stop time.” And then as tears poured down his face, I sobbed. He wrapped his arms around me. “We are all damned,” he said, “and you hide here in this mansion where they can’t burn you! Oh, clever, clever witch in the devil’s house!” “Wicked am I? A witch am I? Stopper of time? I will not have you speak to me in that manner!” Mrs. Winchester moved into the very center of the room and looking up and out the window, it seemed to the blue sky, she cried: “Come now Caim and you 30 Legions of Spirits Infernal! I entreat thee to favor me in the adjuration which I address to thy might minister LUCIFUGE ROFOCALE! Come hither to speak with me.” And at once a great dark shadow appeared in the window, as if the spirit upon whom she had called condensed himself to become small and strong within the room. “Damn you into hell, witch. I shall not be your warlock,” Morgan cried, and as the books began to fall around he, he feld the mansion, and the door slammed front doors shut after him and no one could pry it open ever again, try as they might. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7


Phantom limbs hovering over us, or playfully touching, or roughly shoving us. What could it be that allows the many manifestations of an active, viable, yet impossible World, sometimes seen, more often unseen, that apparently exists right next to us? What aberration in Time or Physics or Mass or Energy reveals to us this other land, usually unheard and invisible, that seems the dwelling place of the dead? https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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