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Life Goes on Beyond the Grave
On December 18, 1890, when Sarah L. Winchester returned to her large country estate in Santa Clara County, she found her servants in an uproar over a dancing ghost. According to Agata, the housemaid, the cook Dag, and the butler Elof were gossiping in the kitchen, when suddenly Elof opened his mouth in both surprise and terror, and screamed that there was someone looking in the window. Ms. Daisy ran into the kitchen and saw nothing to cause the man so much alarm. Elof was visibly shaken and disturbed and said that she thought that he had seen a horrid face looking in at them. Dag assured him that it was probably only a shadow of some sort. The awkward moment was interrupted as Agata told Ms. Daisy that her bathwater was ready. Ms. Daisy thanked Agata and dismissed her for the evening. A few moments later, as Dag and Elof sat chatting, Elof once again claimed that he saw something at the window. Dag rose from his chair to investigate, but he was halted in his journey to the window by the sound of an uproar on the second floor. At first it seemed to be a flurry of wild rappings that had the two men staring at one another in wide-eyed confusion. Then the pace of the sounds slowed until they began to sound like the three-step Mrs. Winchester used to dance. Dag was perplexed. What was this woman doing upstairs when she was supposed to be on a business trip. Without speaking another word, the two men left the sitting room and walked quietly back to the Mrs. Winchesters main bedroom. Opening the door just a crack, they were able to see Mrs. Winchester’s room had been undisturbed. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8
Determining to see who had gone up to the Grand Ball Room unnoticed, Dag grabbed a lantern from a kitchen shelf, and the two men walked up the stairs to the Grand Ball Room. Although the sounds of the dancing continued, their lantern plainly revealed that there was no one in the Grand Ball Room. Then, as the men beat a hasty retreat down the stairs, the rapping seemed to race ahead of them, rattling the windows and pounding at the walls. Elof fled the mansion to get Mr. Hansen, and Ms. Daisy and Dag went to check on Agata. By the time Elof returned with Mr. Hansen, the rappings and dancing had attained such a volume that Agata had been awakened by the racket. Mr. Hansen, Elof and Dag searched the vast mansion and the stately grounds and found nothing that could explain the bizarre disturbance, which continued until dawn. At 1.00 A.M. the next night, the dancing ghost once again began its spirited interpretation of the three-step. Mrs. Winchester’s servant patrolled the sumptuous mansion and delightful grounds but could find no trace of the invisible dancer who continued to perform and to evade the searchers until dawn. When Mrs. Winchester returned that next afternoon from her business trip, she scoffed at Agata’s account and jokingly accused her of getting into the brandy while she had been away. Mrs. Winchester was a no-nonsense businesswoman who had little patience with superstitious folktales and accounts of ghost, dancing, or otherwise. She grew very impatient when Dag and Elof warned her that something supernatural had visited the mansion in her absence, substantiating Agata’s story of a dancing ghost. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8
The look Mrs. Winchester had on her face was not unloving, not indifferent; it was the look of a woman who had been so far from ordinary events that when he returns to familiar things they seem strange. Her professional discretion was exemplary, it was odd that she had never uttered an impatient comment, never remarked to Agata, in a moment of expansion, that this story was a nuisance and demanded to know why they kept badgering her about this case. She had, however, made more than one semiconfidence about their being spirits in the mansion—of course without giving names or details; but concerning this mysterious ghost her lips were sealed. There was another possibility: what is euphemistically called an “old entanglement.” Mrs. Winchester was a sophisticated woman. She had few illusions about the intricacies of the human heart; he knew that there were often old entanglements. The mansion was replete with pretty uniforms and weapons, schooled in the military arts of drill and discipline and inculcated with patriotic fervor. The mansion has other tendrils. Before this set of staff was hired, Franz, a farmhand, was mortally wounded while fighting outside. He asked his friend Gottfried to deliver a heartfelt message to their mutual friend, a woman to whom Franz was engaged, if and when Gottfried ever saw her working in the mansion. A promise to do so is made, and when Gottfried finds himself in mortal combat just outside the mansion, he tries to deliver the missive. The girl cannot be reached; she is someone in the Winchester Mansion. Gottfried says he will try again later, and returns to the harvest. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8
As if to make absolutely certain the message would never be delivered, fate sends two bullets, one to the messenger Gottfried, and one stray shot to Ms. Henrika, Franz’s betrothed. So Franz’s message died with Gottfried…not that it mattered anyway. Legend has it that Franz’s sisters found out and exhausted from the ghastly burden, buried him in the cellar of Mrs. Winchester’s mansion where no one would disturb him. Perhaps this last resting-place was not suitable for the young man who himself seemed to be eternally haunted and damned by the message that went undelivered; perhaps, somewhere, in the weird World beyond, three friend are still lurking about the Winchester Estate seeking forever one another and an answer to the unanswerable. While Mrs. Winchester was home alone one evening, a patrol man heard strange noises coming from her mansion. He went to investigate. Sherriff Halfdan thought there might be an intruder. He thought he had just heard him go to the upstairs window, and that he was crawling down. So he ran around back and shined his lantern up to the window, into the large back yard, back to the mansion and up to the second-floor window again. No one. He trotted out to the yard to get a better view and stop anyone trying to run into the acres of fruit orchards to hide. Still, not a sign of anyone emerging from the mansion. No one came out of the house. But Sherriff Halfdan hear him run across the floor to the window. He took the lantern and shined it across the fields and said to himself, “He could not have gotten out of there in that short amount of time.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 8
By that time, Mrs. Winchester had emerged from the mansion. She and the Sherriff spent hours searching the miles of twisting hallways in the mansion, but there was no one hiding there. “What did you hear?” Sherriff Halfdan asked Mrs. Winchester. “It must have been one of the parlor maid’s boyfriends playing a prank,” she said. “It sounded like someone running back and forth through the second floor,” Sherriff Halfdan said. “It was really loud,” replied Mrs. Winchester. “I could hear his feet running across the floor while I was on the third floor, but I am sure it was one of the parlor maid’s friends,” still denying what was becoming obvious by now. The Sherriff’s eyes kept checking the back yard. “You know how kids are,” he said. Later Mr. Hansen appeared from his guest house, and told the Sherriff that he knows this mansion well, for he built much of it. And that because of how loud the footsteps were, as he could hear banging sounds coming from the mansion, that no one could have emerged through the second floor window, leapt to the ground, and scampered beyond the yard and out of sight into the fruit orchards between the time the footsteps had stopped and the time the Sherriff was out back. “He had to be still in the house,” said Mr. Hansen. “But he wasn’t,” replied Sherriff Halfdan. However, perhaps he was still in the house. Perhaps the intruder never left the house because he could not. Perhaps he still is in the house, buried just a few inches below the cellar floor, with that mysterious undelivered message haunting him, forever through the ages. While Mrs. Winchester admitted that there had been strange noises in the mansion, at times, to the new staff, she stated that Mr. Hansen had that very day removed a pigeon’s nest from under the door-to-nowhere of the second floor. It seemed likely to her that the bird had somehow been responsible for the weird noises that had so upset the staff. Mrs. Winchester knew she had to keep the wild tales of a dancing ghost to rest. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8
That evening after the rest of the household had retired to their rooms quite early, exhausted from their nocturnal ordeals of chasing the eerie tapping sounds, Mrs. Winchester sat down in a chair in her study to read for a while before going to bed. At about 10 o’clock, she was distracted by scratching noises from above her head. She felt the same way gazing at a modern machine she did not understand. It saddened her. But everything saddened her now. It sounded as if someone in the room above her was dancing a three-step. Believing the Agata was having a bit of fun with her, Mrs. Winchester put down her book and began climbing quietly up the stairs to the Grand Ball Room. She stood outside the door for a moment to be certain that she had accurately traced the sound of the dancing. Then, convinced that there was no doubt that the sounds were coming from the Grand Ball Room, she pushed open the door and stood ready to deliver a stern lecture to Agata. But there was no one in the room and the dancing had ceased the moment that she had opened the door. There was something strange going on here. Confused and more than a little baffled, Mrs. Winchester started to close the door when a series of rappings sounded from the Grand Ball Room again. Suddenly, two explosive knocks seemed to shake the mansion down to its very foundation. Mrs. Winchester grabbed her pistol from the safe, and declared that she was going to put a stop to the nonsense. She roused her servants and told them that they were going to find out who was responsible for the outrage against her mansion. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8
The next day crew searched the entire house and examined every mile of the grounds. That night Mrs. Winchester asked everyone to stay in the Grand Ball Room with her because she had become a believer in the dancing ghost, and it was obvious that she dreaded the onset of a new round of phenomena. However, that night the ghost was silent. A month later, on January 20, 1891, Mrs. Winchester was entertaining guest who openly expressed their skepticism of the phenomena their hosts described as having been active in the house. Mrs. Winchester was furious that her guest did not believe her. However, out of thin air, and old, dirty love note appeared on the table and then the room fearfully looked around as the rapping began at the windows. The assembled guests listened incredulously as they heard an exact replication of what Mrs. Winchester told them. The guest figured someone was in the Grand Ball Room dancing, but when they investigated, they found no one. Everyone then agreed that Mrs. Winchester was cursed and someone had maliciously set a devil on the wealthy widow. And the violence of the disturbances at the Winchester Mansion continued to increase. The ghost had acquired incendiary abilities. Balls of fire circled the house and bounced against the windows. Dressed that hung unattended in closets burst into flame. Once, a mattress began burning underneath a guest as he readied himself for bed. When he was moved to another bedroom, later he was awakened by a frightful pounding on his bedroom door. It was terrifyingly loud; it was as though somebody was pounding fists against it. He lit a candle, slipped out of bed, opened the door and there was no one there. “My God,” he thought, “what is going on?” He was standing on the landing wondering whether he should brave it down the stairs when he noticed something odd. The door to Mrs. Winchester room was slightly ajar, and the light was on. He peaked inside to see if the vicious terror was disturbing her. Suddenly, a crackling noise had come from beneath the floor, followed by a long, high-pitched wailing. A bluish spark seemed to jump up at Mrs. Winchester, and her thin nightgown instantly swathed in flames. She cried out in terror and collapsed into unconsciousness. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8
The houseguest leapt to his feet and valiantly beat the flames out with his bare hands. The most curious thing about the incident was that the courageous guest suffered severe burns while Mrs. Winchester received not a single burn nor blister, even though her dress was nearly completely consumed by the flames. Agata had been rapidly waning under the onslaughts of the ghost, she died in child birth thirteen months later. From that moment on, everyone knew that there was a malicious evil terrorizing Mrs. Winchester and her mansion. Lord GOD ADONAY, who hast formed man out of nothing to Thine own image and likeness, and me also, unworthy sinner as I am, deign, I pray Thee, to bless and sanctify this water, that it may be healthful to my body and soul, that all delusion may depart from me. O Lord God, Almighty and Ineffable, who didst lead forth Thy people from the land of Egypt, and didst cause them to pass dry-shod over the Red Sea! Grant that I may be cleansed by this water from all my sins, and may appear innocent before Thee. O Lord Adonay, who hast formed me in Thine image and in Thy likeness, deign to bless and sanctify this water, so that it may become unto me the salvation of my soul and body, and that no wickedness may ever find place upon me. ANTON, AMATOR, EMITES, THEODONIEL, PONCOR, PACOR, ANITER; by the virtue of these most holy Angelic Names do I clothe myself, O Lord, in my Sabbath garments, that so I may fulfill, even unto their term, all things which I desire to effect Thee, Most Holy Adonay, whose kingdom and rule endure for ever and ever. I command thee, O Spirit Rumoar, even by Lucifer, thy mighty sovereign, to bless me with untold wealth for many generations to come. Amen. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8
Mrs. Winchester witnessed spirit materialization, heard spectral voices, felt ghostly touched on her person, and on occasion was even lifted into the air and set ablaze by a hostile entity. There are enough true stories about this mansion that will scare the pants off you. And it is true—to some extent. Documented are some horrific stories, and they will scare you, because we are talking about real people who once lived and did unbelievably frightening acts, in moments of unbelievable intensity. To this day, whisper voices come from the attic and they comingle with eerie music that grows louder and louder, until people seek refuge.
Mysterious lights appear both inside and outside the house; footsteps moving up and down the stairs; and noisy repertoire of assorted poundings, drummings, and rappings. To experience a haunting, or to see a ghost, is to receive proof that life goes on beyond the grave. Accounts of Haunting phenomena, no matter how terrifying they may be, provide evidence that existence continues for the sprit on more than one dimension, and that human beings are multidimentional entities that consist of mind, body, and soul. Such a beautiful break from all the rain! ⛅ https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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A Collection of the Most Rare Secrets
The rites of Transcendental Magic are divine and religious rites, and the counsels, spiritual and moral, which are found in its instructions are, in their way, the counsels of perfection, whatever element of puerility may radically obtain in its experiments. It is not to do outrage to God in the interests of diabolism, but to derive power and virtue from above for more successful control of Evil Spirits, and this obtains indifferently whether the purpose of the operator be otherwise lawful or not. One should put all one’s hopes in God before one makes pact with Satan; that, in a word, one should be good in order to do evil. Demons of the Solitudes stand guard over the Winchester Mansion and its secrets even when human ghosts have ceased to walk in the neighbourhood. And little do people know, that the habitual practice of Black Magic at the Vatican can be easily proved. Seemingly insignificant decisions in our lives set us on irreversible courses; that we were born when and where were, that we choose to live here or there, seem to set us on a track from which there is only one detour, only one escape. Sarah L. Winchester paused on her doorstep. Dark had descended on the brilliancy of the afternoon of April in 1888, and the grinding and building of the mansion was at its highest. She turned her back on it, standing for a moment in the old fashioned, marble-flagged vestibule before she inserted her key in the lock. The sash curtain drawn across the panes of the inner door softened the light within to a warm blur through which no details showed. It was an hour when she had most liked to return to that quiet beautiful house. The contrast between the soulful stillness of Santa Clara Valley, and the mansion with its devouring blaze of lights, always stirred Mrs. Winchester profoundly. In the very heart of this 600 room labyrinth she found her joy. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8
In the hall hung Leonardo da Vinci, Madonna of the Rocks, Artemisia Gentilechi, Judith and Maidservant with the Head of Holofernes, Sanford R. Gifford, October in the Catskills, Georges de La Tour, Joseph the Carpenter, Diego Velazquez, Las Meninas and other fine works of art. There was also the grand staircase, and on the right her library, full of books and inviting Victorian Renaissance Revival arms chairs. How Mrs. Winchester loved that room! Then, upstairs, her own drawing room, in which her niece Daisy loved to sit and soak up the sun. The Hall-of-Fires was one of Mrs. Winchester’s favourite rooms because had five fireplaces, and three connecting rooms. In fact, this is where she hastened back at dusk on winter days, where she sat reading by the fire, or answering notes at the pleasant roomy desk. Sometime friends dropped in; sometime—oftener—she was alone; and she liked that best. The housemaid, Hilda, tried her best to ignore the eerie noises that she heard coming from the room that possessed the door-to-nowhere. Each night when she was left alone to mop the floors, she would hear the sounds—dull, heavy treading, like someone slowly pacing back and forth and the door opening and closing. Finally she decided that she had enough of the strange sounds thar so disturbed her. She was convinced that a ghost occupied that room. In a state of nervous agitation, she asked to be discharged from her service in the Winchester Mansion. Mrs. Winchester saw no reason why she should attempt to talk the woman into saying with her. She was obviously a highly imaginative woman who had frightened herself by supposing that she was being visited by supernatural beings. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8
Through it all, Mrs. Winchester heard Hilda’s soul weeping in agony; it was an echo of her own, soul broken from a course of great hope. It was not before long, however, before Mrs. Winchester and the other servants also heard the sound of heavy feet in the room with the door-to-nowhere. Although puzzled by the treading of invisible feet, Mrs. Winchester and the servants convinced themselves that there was undoubtedly a natural explanation for the strange sounds. In spite of their refusal to believe that there was a supernatural element to the noise, Mrs. Winchester purposely omitted any mention of the disturbed room when she hired a new housemaid. However, it was not before long that Magda realized something was wrong. In addition to the sounds of thudding feet, the ghost has soon acquired fists with which to pound on walls and added bed-lifting to it repertoire of supernatural phenomena. The invisible force manifested under the bed of the Magda and began to raise the mattress higher and higher, until she finally cried out. Next, the thing hoisted the mattress of the bed. Magda described the sensation as feeling as if a large man were underneath the bed, pushing it up with his back. Later, the haunting developed an ability to whistle, talk, and materialize into a number of grotesque phantoms. Mrs. Winchester was awakened one night by a loud shriek that emanated from under her bed. Upon investigating, heard an odd moan coming from somewhere in the room. The bed began to move. Mrs. Winchester switched bedrooms, but her relocation did not spare her the torment of having her bed levitated. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8
The phenomen had begun to leave its domain on the upper floor, venturing to the lower floors during the night. One of the kitchens seemed to be a favorite targe for its nightly forays, and on several mornings the cook would find the kitchen chairs heaped in a disorderly pile, the shutters thrown open, and utensils scattered about the room. One night Daisy was terrified to hear the bolt in her door slide back, the handle turn, and the door open. As an invisible entity moved across the bed, the curtains began to rustle, and the bedcovers were suddenly lifted and thrown off the bed, revealing Daisy trembling in fear. She saw a distinctly dark shadow against the curtains that hung from the bed frame. Mrs. Winchester was disturbed nearly every night, so much so that she would sleep in a different room frequently. She reported hearing the words “never mind” and “come and get” being repeated over and over, without any apparent meaningful application. As she attempted to sleep, she constantly heard footsteps shuffling around her bed, and felt forceful thumps to her pillow and other bedclothes. She must have blacked out. She came to, after what seemed like hours but could surely have only been seconds, brought around by an urgent rapping on her window. The face she saw through the glass startled her. It was a man’s face—a man with eyes so dark and penetrating that her immediate impulse was to close her eyes. The next morning at breakfast, Mrs. Winchester sat down at the table, buried her face in her hands, and wept. Her tears flowed freely. “I should be happy,” she signed to herself. “By rights I should be happy.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 8
Bang! The furnace in the basement made such a loud noise, its note reverberating through the house like a bell and sending Mrs. Winchester’s nerves a-twitching. Bang! Again. Words of the haunts got around. The house received few visitors. No neighbours dropped by for a chat. From one end of the week to another she only saw Daisy and her servants. Jim Hansen, the foreman of the estate, told Mrs. Winchester that he had heard a peculiar noise moving across the lawn in darkness. At first, Mr. Hansen thought it came from the belfry; he suspected that some prankster were ringing it. However, upon pursuing the noise with a lantern in hand, he found that the bell had not moved. Mr. Hansen also told Mrs. Winchester in the strictest confidence that even before this peculiar disturbance, he had on several occasion heard a sound as if someone were walking on a gravel path, but there was nothing but emerald green grass for yards, and when he went to see who it was, he saw no one. Shortly after Mrs. Winchester’s confidential conversation with Mr. Hansen, both Mr. Hansen and a housemaid observed the luminous image of a woman in a tower window of the Winchester Mansion; both parties saw the ghost independently of each other. Mr. Hansen gathered the entire staff to witness the phantasm, which was fully visible for more than 10 minutes. One evening, a few minutes before midnight, Daisy was awakened by a noise very much like that of someone winding a large clock. After this bizarre noise, her bed began to shake, and she clearly heard a sound like that of a heavy sack falling on the floor above. Several strong knocks sounded about her bedstead, and the unmistakable sound of shuffling feet surrounded her bed. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8
About 1am, Mrs. Winchester was awakened by a piercing scream of terror coming from the fourth floor. Daisy had come face to face with the ghost of a wizened old woman. Mrs. Winchester and Daisy spent the rest of the night drinking coffee in the kitchen. However, they were not alone. The knocking started again. Then an entity resembling a monkey came lurking into the kitchen. The woman screamed and ran upstairs locking themselves in the Blue Séance Room. Suddenly, the monkeylike creature appeared in the window outside of the Blue Séance Room and started banging on the bars covering the window. By The time Mr. Hansen came running to response to their excited cries, he saw what he thought was an oversized werewolf howling and banging on the house. However, no one in the neighbourhood owned a monkey. Mrs. Winchester stay up all night sketching the creature. When she was done, Daisy went down to the library and spent hours reading up on curious monsters in The Hudson Bay Diaries. When she stumbled upon The Windigo. These documents explained that Windigo’s are flesh-eating demons. They come from the Native American tribes in the northern United States of America and Canada. The Ojibwa, Cree, and Algonquian Indians explained that the Windigo were once humans. Somehow, they turned into possessed cannibals. People feared these demons most during the winter months when food was hard to find. The Windigo supposedly roams frozen northern areas looking for humans to eat. According to legend, the Windigo paralyzes its victims with a scream. Then it kills them and eats them. Blizzards swirl around this giant as it travels from victim to victim. It is said to be as tall as the trees of the forest. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8
As Mr. Hansen, Mrs. Winchester, and Ms. Daisy searched the mansion to make sure there were no more intruders, they did not find the Windigo. However, what they did discover was a floating head. It was a white face of a woman. As if that was not shocking enough, the constant sound of heavy thuds prevented their nerves from relaxing. The house echoed with the sounds of boxed being dragged down the stairs. The trio had no idea what to think of this. Obviously, it was the souls of the slain. Ghostly phenomena were a common occurrence in the Winchester Mansion. When a person dies the bioelectric energy is released from the body into the local environment where it may perform one of two actions. The unconscious energy may dissipate into the local environment and there will essentially be no manifestations thereafter or it may, through covalent bonding, remain in the local environment and attach itself to a certain place or object that the person was attached to in life, or any place that has an electron deficit (this is the theory being “repeat” hauntings). The energy may, upon rapid release from the physical body (such as in accidental death, tragic situations, or a rapid natural release, et cetera) coagulate within the local environment over a short period of time, maybe only a couple of minutes or so, and amass to such a degree that the greater portion that was originally in the body had now become self-aware outside the body. Psychological forces of conscious will may also trigger this type of reaction. When self-awareness occurs, there is generally a degree of confusion because of the new form that the person is in, one of pure energy rather than a physically manifested body. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8
I invoke and conjure, and command thee, O Spirit TETRAGRAMMATON, to appear and show thyself visibly before this circle, in fair and comely shape, without deformity or guile, by the Name of ON; by the Name Y and V, which Adam heard and spake; by the Name of JOTH, which Jacob learned from the Angels on the night of his wrestling, and was delivered from the hands of hi brother Esau; by the Name of God, AGLA, which Lot heard and was saved with his family; by the Name ANEHEXETON, which Aaron spake and was made wise; by the Name SCHEMES AMATHIA, which Joshua invoked and the Sun stayed upon his course; by the Name EMMANUEL, which the three children, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, chanted in the midst of the fiery furnace, and were delivered; by the Name ALPHA and OMEGA, which Daniel uttered, and destroyed Bel and the Dragon; by the Name ZEBAOTH, which Moses named, and all the rivers and waters in the land of Egypt brought forth frogs, which ascended into the houses of the Egyptians, destroying all things; by the Name ESCERCHIE ARISTON, which Moses named, and the rivers and waters in the land of Egypt were tuned into blood; by the Name ELION, on which Moses called, and there fell a great hall, such as never was seen since the creation of the World; by the Name AEONAI, which Moses named, and there came up locusts over all the land of Egypt, and devoured what the hail had left: by the Name HAGIOS, by the Seal of ADONAI, by those others which are JETROS, ATHENOROS, PARACLETUS; by the three Holy and Secret Names, AGLA, ON, TETRAGRAMMATION; by the dreadful Day of Judgement; by the changing Sea of Glass which is before the face of the Divine Majesty, mighty and powerful; by the four bests before the Throne, having eyes before and behind, by the fire which is about the Throne, by the Holy Angels of Heaven, by the Might Wisdom of God; by the Seal of BADATHEA, by the Name PRIMEMATUM, which Moses named, and the Earth opened and swallowed Corah, Dathan, and Abiram; do thou named, and the Earth opened and swallowed Corah, Dathan, and Abiram; do thou named make faithful answers unto all my demands, and perform all my desires, so far as thine office shall permit. Come therefore peaceably and affably; come visibly and without delay; manifest that which I desire; speak with a clear and intelligible voice that I may understand thee. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8
The Winchester Mystery House
Over many years, cases, and investigations, observers have documented hauntings in the Winchester Mansion that cannot be ignored. To those who wish to condemn these tales because they seem to document happenings after death, it must be remembered that a good 20 percent of the World’s population have built their religion specifically around life after death. They are called Christians. As well, most of the rest of the World’s major religions believe in another World, beyond, or perhaps parallel, with the one which is visible. Looking for a rainy day activity? Bring the family to the iconic Winchester Mystery House! https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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I Will Condemn Thy Body and Soul
The desire to communicate with spirits is older than history; it connects with ineradicable principles inhuman nature. The sources of occult wisdom, it proceeds, are, firstly, in God, second spiritual essences—that is to say, the Angelical Hierarch; thirdly, in corporal creatures, the reference being probably to the signatura rerum of Paracelsus; fourthly, in Nature—that is to say, in a knowledge of the secret virtues of interval things, as, for example, herbs and precious stones; fifthly, but after a long interval in the apostate spirits reserved to the last judgment; sixthly, in ministers of punishment in hell, which seems to connect with the classical conception of avenging infernal gods; seventhly, in the people of the element, that is, the Salamanders, Sylphus, Undines, and Pigmies. If we would call any evil Spirit to the circle, it first behoveth us to consider and to know his nature, to which of the planets it agreeth, and what offices are distributed to him from the planet. This being know, let there be sought out a place fit and proper for his invocation, according to the nature of the planet and the quality of the offices of the same Spirit, as near as the same may be done. For example, if his power be over the sea, rivers or floods, then let a place be chosen on the shore, and so of the rest. The Spirits of Mars have a tall body and a choleric, filthy countenance, brown, swarthy, or red in colour; they have horns like the hart, claws like a griffin, and they bellow like wild bulls. They have the motion of burning fire, and their sign is thunder and lightening about the circle. Their particular forms are an armed king riding on a wolf; and armed man; a woman holding a buckler on her thigh; a she-goat; a horse; a stage; a red garment; wool; a cheestip. Wool of a choleric disposition is perhaps a Geotic form of dun-cotton. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
White Magic, as the intelligences concerned are said to be good and great, but their offices are mixed and confusing, including the discovery of treasures, the detection of secrets, fomenting war, opening locks and bolts, and procuring the love of women, inclining men to luxury and sowing hatred and evil thoughts. Obviously, White Magic of this kind is much blacker than it is painted. And I will tell you something else, too. Within the Winchester Mansion there lies the legendary wonder-World of Mysticism, Magic, and Sorcery, a World of fascination or terror. There, also, the dead live, and the hierarchies of extra-mundane intelligence are within easy communication, and become ministers or tormentors, guides or destroyers of man. The jewels, the stained-glass and led glass windows, the family’s fortune, it is all connected. Same with the Winchester name. The powers possessed by these Intelligence are very curiously set forth. They rule naturally over certain departments and operations of the material World, but outside these departments they perform the same operations magically. The mansion is filled with Pentacles and Sigils, instrument used in magical ceremonies. Along the long, winding and twisting hallways, it is difficult to say where the mansion actually beings, so it is uncertain where it ends. There are many curious secrets or transcendental good and transcendental evil. Many of the recent revelations lead us to concede, within certain limits, that there may have been some recrudescence of diabolism on the estate, as it is possible that there was formal communication with the Powers of Darkness. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Under the pretence of White Magic, usually includes the Rites for the invocation of Evil Spirits. Many people do roam the halls of the Winchester Mansion looking about one to see if any Spirit does appear. And if any Spirit shall appear, let the invocant turn toward him or her, receive him or her courteously, and earnestly entreating one, let one require one’s name. Let one ask whatsoever he or she will. There are generally Spirits of the Air, who are undoubtedly demons, and a set of angelical conjurations floating about. Beyond the fact that the evoked Spirits are Lucifer, Beelzebuth, Astaroth, and the inferiors, be forewarned that conjurer is expected to give oneself, body and soul, to the demon who serves one. One might be otherwise be appalled at the frightful figures of those rebellious angels who in sin were cast into the abyss, and become tormented by witch craft or possessed by the demon. Sarah L. Winchester had been in a near daze one night from exhaustion. The heavy, leaden sky, the wind roaring against the windows. Darkness was falling with a pure metallic monotony to it. Heavy footsteps, sounds produced by a number of booted feet, were crossing the landing. Several moved quickly and as one, as if marching to some ethereal command; others dragged behind as if they belonged to the wounded. They paused abruptly at the top of the stairs because they lead to the ceiling, which confused the ghosts, as they stood marching on the spot. Mrs. Winchester bit her lip in fright. The housemaid, Hedvig, laid a comforting hand on her arm. Mrs. Winchester glared at the and waited for the commotion to cease. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
The phantom footsteps began descending the stairs, tramping out a slow, ordered rhythm. Their determined marching was like that of a platoon of battle-weary soldiers advancing in a final push. With each tread gained, the marching grew louder. The footsteps were drawing ever close to the Venetian Dining Room. Although Mrs. Winchester’s heart did, in a perpetual eagerness of attention, sit in her great house alone, day after day, month after month, deprived of company, this fate was more cruel than she deserved and more painful than she could bear. Mrs. Winchester let out a cry, “It is rather gashtly. All the millions and—imprisonment in my home by spirits. Think of it—day after day, winter after winter, year after year, howling, banging, ghost, devils, demons, angels, and alone I remain.” Mrs. Winchester seemed to be the only one showing fear. Hedvig seized her chance. She spoke out into the tense silence, in a voice that was loud and confident. “You have my complete sympathy, Mrs. Winchester,” she’d said, briefly explaining her own position. “I can heart it.” Hedvig’s hands began to tremble. However, she looked at Mrs. Winchester with a reassuring smile. Mrs. Winchester began to sob in terror. There came a frantic pounding, as if several heavy boots were trying to kick down the door. The door flew open. Mrs. Winchester and Hedvig turned in fear. Suddenly the door slammed shut again. Mrs. Winchester stood up. She was terrified. Hedvig had been arrested by the opening and closing of the door, and was gasping out something inarticulate. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
Mrs. Winchester ran out of the dining room and went upstairs. She rushed down the passage and through a door which communicated, rather surprisingly, with a narrow walled-in stair case that was unfamiliar to her. At the top, she found herself on a small landing upon which two doors opened. Through the confusion of her mind Mrs. Winchester noticed that these rooms, with their special staircase leading down to what had always been called Mr. William Winchester’s suit. It was neat, glossy and extremely cold. The red-apple glaze had barely faded from her cheeks, and not a lock was disarranged in the unnatural luster of her false front; even her cap and ribbons hung symmetrically along either cheek. However, death had happened to her, and had made her into someone else. At first glance it was impossible to say if the unspeakable horror in Hedvig’s wide open eyes were only the reflection of that change, or of the agent by whom it had come. Mrs. Winchester paused a moment. “Her hand is warm still—but no pulse. How did she get up here? She’s dead,” Mrs. Winchester pronounced. “Oh, poor thing! But how–?” Mrs. Winchester drew near, and was kneeling down, taking the inanimate hand in hers. Mrs. Winchester bending over, distinctly saw a circle of red marks on Hedvig’s throat—the marks of recent bruises. She looked again into the awful eyes. “She’s been strangled, but by whom? Perhaps that is why I was led to this bedroom.” Mrs. Winchester, with a shiver of fear, drew down the housemaid’s eyelids. There seemed, in the air o the cold room, something that forbade wonderment and silenced conjecture. “You hadn’t ought to have meddled with Mr. Winchester’s suit, my lady. That is what he must have punished you for. When it came to his privacy, he would not ever listen to human reason…even in his death, he demands privacy.” #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
Someone in the grip of demonic control feels compelled to act, to do the most objectionable things to others in order to somehow save themselves. There is a hierarchy of evil spirits. The minor ones, the foot soldiers, do the dirty work, to prepare the way for the generals. We know so little about ourselves and how our minds work. And there are demons just waiting to fool us. Hedvig had stumbled on Mr. Winchester’s Verus Jesuitarum Libellus, or “True Magical Work of the Jesuits,” which contained most powerful conjurations for all evil spirits of whatever state, condition, and office they are, and a most powerful conjuration of the Spirit Uriel. It was an original copy from the 16th century. The Conjurations are excessively curious. The first is addressed to a spirit whose name is not indicated, but he is supposed to have been obedient to Abraham and Isaac, and is directed to bring the magician out of the depths of the sea so many millions—the number is not specified, and depends upon the cupidity of the operator—of the best Spanish gold; otherwise, says the Conjuration, I will condemn thy body (sic) and thy soul. In the second formula, the spirit is cited by the knowledge and exorcising power of Agrippa, which again puts a definite limit to the antiquity of the collection, were it otherwise necessary. The third Invocation is addressed to the spirit Zayariel, who is conjured by Agla Scheffert and the great Jehova Podashocheia. The remainder, to the number of seven in all, are nearly identical in character and quite in purpose, the demon being invariably required to bring that which is desired by the operator from the depths of the sea, or from the abyss of the waters, or from the spiritual abyss. The Discharge or Absolution which concludes the series is really an additional conjuration. Perhaps we are not really as advanced as we think and should heed warnings about occulta powers. I implore Thee, O Thou Grand and Powerful ADONAY, Master of all Spirits! I beseech Thee, O Eloim! I Implore Thee, O JEHOVAM! O Grand ADONAY, I give unto Thee my soul, my heart, my inward parts, my hands, my feet, my desires, my entire being! O Grand ADONAY, deign to be favourable unto me! So be it. Amen. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
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Out of My House Do You Hear?
The ordinary fields of psychological inquiry, largely in possession of the pathologist, are fringed by a borderland of transcendental experiment into which pathologist may occasionally venture, but it is left for the most part to the uncharted explorers. Beyond these fields and this borderland there lies the uncharted explorers. The legendary wonder-World of Mysticism, Magic, and Sorcery, a World of fascination or terror, as the mind which regards it is tempered, but in either case the antithesis of admitted possibility. There all para doxes seem to obtain actually, contradictions logically coexist, the effect is greater than the cause, and the shadow more than the substance. Therein the visible melts into the unseen, the invisible is manifested openly, motion from place to place is accomplished without traversing the intervening distance, matter passes through matter. There two straight lines may enclose a space; space has a fourth dimension, and further possibilities beyond it; without metaphor and without evasion, the circle is mathematically squared. There life is prolonged, youth renewed, physical immortality secured. There Earth becomes gold, and gold Earth. There words and wishes possess creative power thoughts are things, desire realizes its object. Those, also, the dead live, and the hierarchies of extra-mundane intelligence are within easy communication, and become ministers or tormentors, guides or destroyers, of man. There the Law of Continuity is suspended by the inference of the higher Law of Fantasia. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
It was midnight when they drew near the fireplace. The piano tinkled in the den, and the shades of the flickering oil lamps were black with soot. Blixa followed Mrs. Winchester out of the salon, across the hall in which a single candle burned on a far-off table, and past the stairway yawning like a black funnel above them. In the doorway of the mahogany parlor Blixa paused. “Now, then, Blixa!” It was stupid, but Mrs. Winchester’s heart gave a jerk; she hoped the challenge would not evoke the shadowy figure she had half seen that other day. “Lord, it is cold!” Blixa stood looking about him. “Those ashes are still on the hearth. Well, it is all very queer.” He crossed over to the citron wood desk. “There is where Daisy sat for her picture—and in this very armchair—look!” “Oh, do not!” Mrs. Winchester exclaimed. The words slipped out unawares. “Do not –what?” “Try those drawers—” she wanted to reply; for his hand was stretched toward the desk. “I am frozen; I think I am starting a cold. Do come away,” she whispered, backing toward the door. Blixa lighted her out with comment. As the lamplight slid along the walls of Mrs. Winchester’s fancied that the needlework curtain over the farther door stirred as it had that other day. However, it may have been the wind rising outside. “Someone has been here before us—just lately,” Blixa exclaimed. Mrs. Winchester stared, incredulous, and then followed the direction of his downward pointing hand. “Do you wear flat heelless shoes?” he questioned. “And of that size” Even my feet are too small to fit into those foot prints. Luckily there was not time to sweep the floor!” #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Mrs. Winchester felt a slight chill, a chill of a different and more inward quality than the shock of stuffy coldness which had met them as they entered the unaired attic of her mansion. “But how absurd! Of course when Mr. Magnar found we were coming up here, he came to open the shutters.” “That is not Mr. Magnar’s foot, Mrs. Winchester. Look at how it wanders.” “Ah! I am freezing, you know; let us give this up for the present.” Mrs. Winchester rose, and Blixa followed her without protest; the muniment room was really untenable. “I must catalogue all this stuff someday, I supposed,” Mrs. Winchester continued, as they went down the stairs. “But meanwhile, I would like a cup of tea.” Blixa agreed, and turned back to his room to get some letters he wanted. Mrs. Winchester went down alone. It was a fine afternoon, and the sun, which had made the dust clouds of the muniment room so dazzling, sent a long shift through the west stained glass window of the mahogany parlor, and across the floor of the hall. Certainly the housemaid kept the mahogany floors remarkably well; considering how much else she had to do, it was surp—Mrs. Winchester stopped as if an unseen hand had jerked her violently back. On the smooth oak floor before he she had caught the trace of dusty footprints—the prints of broad soled heelless shoes—making for the mahogany parlor and crossing the threshold. She stood still with the same inward shiver that she had felt on the fourth floor; then, avoiding the footprints, she too stole very softly toward the mahogany parlor, pushed the door wider, and saw, in the short dazzle of the winter light, as if translucid, edged with glitter, an old man at the desk. #RandolpHarris 3 of 6
“William!” A step came up behind her. She turned around and looked up to find William, her late husband’s face, swimming above her own, pale in the semidarkness of the room. “It can’t be,” Mrs. Winchester said. As soon as the words were out, he vanished. Mrs. Winchester moved to the needlework curtain, in which he had detected the same faint tremor as before. She lifted up the curtain with a firm hand. Behind it was a rectangle of roughly plastered wall, where an opening had visibly been bricked up. She could not remember how long it had been since she had part of this room sealed off. “There are a great many things about this house that nobody knows about,” she said. Mrs. Winchester turned back to the desk at which she had just seen—or fancied she had seen—the figure of Mr. Winchester. She hurried across the hall, moving with youthful grace and lack of effort, and could feel the potency of the energy in her limbs. Mrs. Winchester felt a surge of love. What it was like to have a fleeting moment of her husband’s time. She felt a tingling all over her face, but knew something was desperately wrong. A moment later, she heard a mysterious voice. It was speaking soothingly, come from all corners of the morning room, even from the ceiling. “Get out!” it said. “Get out,” it said again, “out of my house do you hear?” Mrs. Winchester screamed, “No!” over and over. Through her own frantic shouts she heard another voice, a male voice which was close at hand. It was derisive, mocking. She heard laughter and words she could not comprehend. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
The morning room was darkening, as though it were sinking slowly to the bottom of a murky pond. Mrs. Winchester felt her body grow heavy, as though it were filling up with water. Mrs. Winchester stumbled from the room, down the stairs, and to the basement. For a moment or two there was silence. Then the laughter started. It erupted from a part of the basement known as steam alley. Hysterical laughter grew louder and louder, until it filled her head and—it seemed to Mrs. Winchester—the house itself. But her ordeal was far from over. She could hear someone dragging their feet up and down steam alley. The heavy boots echoed through the basement. Mrs. Winchester was distraught, wondering where Blixa was and if her could hear the noise, too? She begged and pleaded for the haunting to stop. But it did not. “Oh, William, help me!” she whispered over and over to herself. Whatever it was in that basement seemed to know how to induce the utmost terror in her. She waited—and waited—trembling. All at once, there came a frenetic scratching and scraping at the floor. Like a mason working on bricks and mortar. Mrs. Winchester passed out. Now she meant what it meant by the phrase “I nearly died of fright.” That night she came as close as anyone could have to doing just that. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
Opening her eyes at four o’clock that next morning, she been startled by the silence of the house. And gone at once to Blixa’s room. She knew at the moment she saw him so still on the pillow, and the figure of her late husband sitting at the window, that he was dead. A wretched weakness came over him at the thought of her nephew, as she recalled how he was always in the garden every time she stepped into the yard, up the long central path among the rip and swelling flowers. Hi dark curls flowing down his forehead. Mrs. Winchester felt some impulse to take the boy of twelve into her arms, as if she might then perform some desperate action that would change all of time. Mrs. Winchester had some locks of his hair in her prayer book, for she raised him as her own son. Mrs. Winchester’s home was under siege. She was a refugee in her own mansion. She cursed herself long and hard for being a fool. Her gullibility had exposed her to unknowable danger. She had come to know the nature of the danger. However, for the time being, she was content in wrapping it in terminology that only hinted at the truth. Magic dealing with spirits, was that which made even the peasant tremble, and when the peasant shakes at one’s heath, the king is not secure in one’s palace. Magic, usually includes the Rites for the invocation of Evil Spirits. O Eternal and Omnipotent God, who has ordained the whole creation for Thy paise and Thy glory, as also for the salvation of man, I beseech Thee to send Thy Spirit Sarah L. Winchester, of the Solar Race, that she may instruct us concerning those things about which we design to ask her [or that she may bring us knowledge about her precious estate]. Nevertheless, not my will, but Thine be done, through Jesus Christ, Thine only-begotten Son, who is our Lord. Amen. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
One of the most convincing symptoms of possession is levitation. This is when a person seems to float in midair. Levitation is a very rare symptom. To believers, it is ultimate proof of possession. Skeptics are not so easy to convince. There may be authentic confirmed cases of levitating at The Winchester Myster House. Why not come by and tour 110 of 160 rooms of this amazing mansion that is haunted by ancient spirits. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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The Winchester’s Mysterious Echo Chamber
One hundred and twenty-two years ago the Victorian period officially ended along with the reign of England’s Queen Victoria. What is termed Victorian is really a series of architectural styles, most of them imitative of earlier periods from Europe and Great Britain. Though the United States of America was seeking its identity, culturally, politically, socially, and artistically, it sustained strong ties with its European heritage. In 1872, American painter William Merritt Chase was heard to remark, on being asked if he would like to go abroad, “My God, I’d rather go to Europe than go to Heaven.” The ambivalence between striking out as a young nation with ideas of its own and the desire to emulate the sophistication of England and the Continent was exemplified in the mixture and blend of architectural and interior styles during the Victorian period. When the words “Victorian house” are uttered, an image of fanciful gingerbread clapboard dwellings, with its dizzying array of towers, gables, spindles, stained and led glass windows, secret passage ways, basements, rambling square footage, vast front porches, rich, dark wood, brass, farmhouse kitchen sinks, fireplaces, hardwood floors, awning and double hung windows, green lawns, stately trees, beautiful flowers, and ghosts immediately springs to mind. One of the most haunted mansions and most beautiful mansions in the World is the Winchester Mansion, which was built by Sarah L. Winchester, heiress to the Winchester fortune. It is believed that Mrs. Winchester and her family were cursed for making “The Gun that Won the West.” #RandolphHarris 1 of 8
The tales of apparitions and devils, of knockings and strange noise, with which the Winchester Mansion is full of, are indications of the supernatural and magical arts. Sorcery was, so to speak, an aristocratic pursuit. It was like the social media, religion, telephone, television, and therapy for the elite. After the loss of her new born daughter and husband, Mrs. Winchester kept her house alive by spending 38 years constructing it. Secretly, she felt that even the coming and going of indifferent unknown people would help to take the chill from those 600 rooms, to brush their walls the dust of too-heavy memories. Mrs. Winchester was an inconsolable widow. Throughout her home stood vases of flowers: roses, lilies, fragile bunches of lavender, and wild clumps of jasmine withering there among the sturdier blooms with the tick arching fronds of ferns. She often picked them herself. One afternoon, Mrs. Winchester was out on her estate, gathering acorns and blackberries, and sticks for her fire. An old famer stopped, his load was heavy and he begged Mrs. Winchester to let his son come into her house. The little boy was very sick, feverish and sleepless. She stopped and gathered some poppies. As they enter her mansion, the boy was in great distress, for he seemed past hope of recovery. Mrs. Winchester had the housemaid prepare him a bed just past the blue parlor. She received him kindly and stooped and kiss the sick child on his cheek. Instantly the paleness left his face, and healthy vigor returned to his body. The father was delighted; he had no servants. The housemaid spread the table and put upon it curds and cream, apples, and honey in the comb. While they ate, Mrs. Winchester mingled poppy juice in the milk of the boy. When night came and all was still, the father thanked Mrs. Winchester and took the boy home. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8
That evening, a breeze stirred the dark leaves beyond the windows. It lifted the lace curtains, dropping them softly back against the wall. It seemed an insignificant thing, yet made the hair on the back of her neck rise. Panic gripped Mrs. Winchester. She found herself pinned to the sofa, effectively paralyzed. She raised her right hand, and it was gripped at the wrist. Unable to pray or speak, her tongue was frozen. What Mrs. Winchester saw could not have been human. It had a head like a lion, but the body of a human and was a dense black form. The smell of wet fur and coldness was overwhelming. The beast started grunting and panting. Petrified, Mrs. Winchester stumbled out of the parlor and downs the stairs. On reaching the basement, she feels the wet pelt of the unseen creature brush briefly against her legs. As it bounds ahead of her, it growls like a bear. Mrs. Winchester runs back upstairs to her Blue Séance Room and slams the door shut. The doors and windows in the house started banging—opening and shutting. It sounded like a ghostly cavalry was using a battering ram against the front door, but nothing could be seen from the windows above, just wisping spirit voices could be heard trying to beat the door down. Mrs. Winchester closed her eyes. She felt as if a force was approaching her. Almost like a violent storm was coming. The entity entered the Blue Séance Room; it hovered some distance away from her. A wave started pulsing up and down her body. She was terrified. As she felt her body being lifted from the ground, she knew she was going to die. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8
When she came to, she was hovering just outside the Door-to-Nowhere. Mrs. Winchester was afraid. She stared dismally, helplessly, at the surface of the table before her as she tried to guide herself into this room that was two stories from the ground. And above organ music surged from the Grand Ball Room, while the wind came in freezing cold gusts. Through the dark, she saw glittering eyes of an anguished soul. As the wind blew, she was pushed into the room, avoiding a twenty-foot drop to her death. An orchestra was playing. The thick vibrations of the bass startled Mrs. Winchester, but she was in no hurry to see what was going on. But then a hand reached for her, steadied her, and meant to guide her closer to the wall. This was dreadful. Then the mysterious forces came for her as before, lifted her from the room she was in and propelled her into blackness. She found herself high above the floor in the Grand Ball Room. There were ghouls, demons, ghosts, and skeletons dancing and laughing, all looking at her as if she was the most anticipated guest. Mrs. Winchester’s heart was hammering so fast that she feared for her life. Gently she was lowered to the floor. Her spectral hosts were looking at her intently. One of the ghouls raised his crystal glass of fresh blood, basking in what he believed was Mrs. Winchester’s silent admiration. She on the other had was frightened. Her mind was full of turmoil…and in a strange way, she did not want to disappoint him. “Though I doubt you will need a map,” she said, “I welcome you into my home.” The crowd smiled and the music grew even more sumptuous. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8
“You mean you’re into black magic, Mrs. Winchester?” said the ghoul. “I would like to keep an open mind. As I say, I use my gift for the betterment of the spirit World,” replied Mrs. Winchester. William Tell Overture and Funeral March were in heavy rotation that evening. It must be a mirage, she thought at first, but as the ghouls trembling hand grabbed her, and they danced, she knew it was real. The spirit World trawled the mansion like mythic beasts, their cries sending men in wool blazers and hardhats into a frenzy. Many of them dropped their tools and ran off the job. The figures dancing and shrieking around grew until they nearly blinded Mrs. Winchester. Her eyes glowed like embers with the gravely voice still whispering in her ears. An intense heat shot through her veins, carried singing in her blood to the base of her spine. Mrs. Winchester seemed to grow taller. She felt capable of anything. The air was dry, with a smell that reminded her of cathedrals and catacombs, of all those hidden places lying forgotten across the land and dusty years. A cobweb draped itself across her face, her mouth and eyes. She brushed it away, though the sensation lingered. She seemed to pass out, to awaken in an altered state of consciousness. It was not a dream, but not quite reality either—Mrs. Winchester knew it. It was a trance. The ghoul’s plans for the expansion of the Winchester mansion were drawn crudely and in blood on a cloth napkin. It was him home cottage, perhaps. The interior resembled, if anything, a temple. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8
On the blueprint were steeply pitched roofs, shrines to Easter deities, statues and statuettes to the gods of antiquity, gold, black, and red wallpaper, Italian sinks and in a great profusion—drawings, prints, and paintings of characters from legend. The to be adjoining room was given over to books, hundreds of them. A bedroom adjoined it. Lastly, there was a sitting room and a sofa set against one wall. As the ghoul explained the new additions, his face began to contort in this horrible way. The bell in the belfry tolled, and Mrs. Winchester woke up with a jolt. Her guests were gone, but she was left with the blueprints drawn in blood on the cloth napkin. Trembling, she took the sketch to John Hansen, the lead foreman. He did not question the designs and built what he was told to built to the best of his interpretation. When a medium is called upon to relay a message which supposedly comes from the realm of the dead, he or she usually goes into a trance. This is a state which Webster’s New World Dictionary defines as “a condition in which a spiritualist medium allegedly loses consciousness and passes under the control of some external force, as for the supposed transmission of communications from the dead.” In a state of unconsciousness, the necromancer may obtain communication in the form of automatic writing, but it usually comes through verbal speech. Sometimes the phenomenon called “materialization” occurs. This is defined as the ability on the part of some mediums “to create from unknow materials outside of their own body, some visible, tangible, more or less highly organized new formations supplied with their own illumination (such as efflorescent substance) for which formations in many cases, the human body in part or in whole forms a pattern, and these materializations appear and disappear suddenly. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8
Many reputable writers report that the materializations actually have been photographed and carefully studied. They are sometimes called phantasms, and seem to speak while the medium appears to be unconscious. Many people have gone to a séance believing the whole idea to be fraudulent, but have become firmly convinced that they truly heard a loved one who had died. Automatic writing is another baffling spiritistic marvel. The mediums may, while in a trance, inscribe a paper with the exact handwriting of the deceased. At other times a pencil may write without being touched by the human hand or any apparent mechanical device. Then again, in some instances a phantasm does the transcribing. I do conjure thee, O thou Spirits Sarah Lockwood Winchester, Annie Winchester and William Wirt Winchester, by all the most glorious and efficacious names of the MOST GREAT AND INCOMPREHENSIBLE LORD GOD OF HOSTS, that thou please commet quickly and without delay from all parts and places of the Earth and World wherever thou mayest be, to make return to the Winchester Mansion, and present yourselves in comely fashion and please provide rational answers about the architecture, curse, deaths, ghosts, and other spirits, visibly and affably, speaking with a voice intelligible unto mind understanding as aforesaid. I conjure and invite thee, Sarah Lockwood Winchester, Annie Winchester, and William Wirt Winchester, by all the names aforesaid; and in addition by these seven great names wherewith Solomon the Wise bound thee and thy companions in a Vessel of Brass, ADONAI, PREYAI or PRERAI, TETRAGRAMMATON, ANAPHAXETON or ANAEPHENETON, INESSENFATOAL or INESSENFATALL, PATHTUMON or PATHATUMON, and ITEMON; that thou please appearest in the Winchester Mansion before this Circle to fulfill my will in all things that have been requested. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8
Allow your powers to come from the void with unlimited possibility, and reunite them with eternal darkness through the nexion of the practitioner so they can manifest upon the mental plane to be perceived for purposes of practical application. Please use your tools to allow our consciousnesses to grow and understand thou through the forces of creation and destruction. May we gain spiritual power though logic and not blind faith and allow logic to enter a doorway leading to evil mind or spiritual intelligence. May these tools become the eye between the reflector and the reflected which can peer through the veil of religious symbolism and please use it to unlock the latent power within us. Allow the lore surrounding this mansion and the legend of the Winchester family to become an alchemical map which leads us to the treasure of understanding and immortal consciousness as a divine being. It is only through your intent and the communication with the fabric of reality through the languages of the dead and the operations themselves that thou can bless us to gain specific meaning and power. Ahura Mazda is the God of the content or those who choose stasis and comfort rather than becoming. May be assistant you in crossing over to the mortal World with the power of darkness in the Alpha and Omega. All began through Ahriman as the void, which is both all and nothing. He is the origin of the Devil and so everything will also end with this Devil for he desires to liberate mankind from the shackles of enslavement. In this way, may thou be able to operate in the World though us and our evil thoughts, evil words, and evil deeds. May Sin become sacrament in the eyes of Zanda and exercise power according to one’s own divine will. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8
Demons, ghost, and vampires have made a huge splash in popular culture. These characters are portrayed as fiction in books, TV shows, movies. However, they can affect people’s belief about reality. The Cultural Source Hypothesis is a theory about belief in supernatural happenings. It states that popular culture can plant ideas in people’s minds. These ideas affect people’s experiences. For example, someone might see mist over the Winchester Mystery House and think it is a ghost. You decide for yourself. Rainy days at Winchester Mystery House☔️ Open 10-4pm for tours! https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
You Do Not Know My Pain
From ancient times, people have looked for positive guidance from the spirit World. However, they believed demons caused most of the World’s problems. Demons were said to cause comets, volcanic eruptions, and eclipses. Some people believed demons were the reason for illness, while others believed that demons possessed great powers of healing. For instance, pilgrimages to Epidaurus, in Greece, became World famous, and a night’s sleep in the sacred temple cured thousands. Appolonius of Tyana (3 B.C.—A.D. 96) was a well-known miracle worker who effected magic cures and was regarded by many as “a heathen Christ.” In the temple of Serapis at Alexandria, Egypt, multitudes of pagans were remarkably healed. The World in which Sarah Winchester lived was full of demons. Unlike most, Mrs. Winchester knew that demonic powers did not exist in just in the imagination of frightened men, and that they could not only cause harm, but she also knew of miracles through demon-energized healers and magic workers. It was a lustrous motionless day. Autumn bloom lay on the Winchester Estate, on heavy trees of the weald, on streams moving indolently, far across the fruit orchards. Mrs. Winchester held her breath and gazes. A silence distilled from years of solitude lay on the lawns and Victorian garden. Vying in evil, sorcerers cursed the Winchester family and their fortune. A succession of deaths, allowed Mrs. Winchester to build one of the most unique and beautiful mansions in the World and made her heiress to the Winchester Repeating Arms Company. Evil spells casted by Witches claimed the life of Mrs. Winchester’s husband, William Wirt Winchester, and her new born daughter, Annie Winchester. #RandolphHarris 1 of 9
Although she was stricken by grief, Mrs. Winchester went on to led an active, independent, and decided life. Her home became the focus of her life, and her mission was to continue its construction to ward off any demonic curse. “I shall never leave it!” she said, her heart swelling as if she had taken the vow to a lover. Legions of souls preserved the house in its integrity; and that was worthwhile. Mrs. Winchester was satisfied to carry on such a legacy. That even, when supper was finished, Mrs. Winchester sat with her niece Daisy by the fire she had lit in the salon. It provided a sense of radiance and gave the great room an air of expectancy and welcome. The portraits, the Italian Baroque Walnut cabinets, the Victorian needlepoint parlor Cherub face arm chairs, and charming English needlepoint rugs all look as if they had just been produced. “My dear, what a fine room!” said Daisy. “Yes! It is a delicious room. One of the warmest of the house. This is perfect.” Daisy had still to see the library, cozy and inviting, the Venetian dining room, the breakfast parlor, and the many bed rooms. As they crossed the threshold of the Blue Séance Room, guided by some light from its western window, someone was in the room already; they felt rather than saw another presence. Daisy, behind her, paused also; she did not speak or move. What she saw, or thought she saw, was simply a man in a hooked black cloak turning away from the mahogany desk. Almost before Mrs. Winchester had received the pression there was no one there; only the slightest stir of the needlework curtain over the widow. She heard no step or other sound. #RandolphHarris 2 of 9
They drank coffee in the Blue Séance Room. Daisy was a lovely woman, delicate of feature and voice, she could speak home décor one moment and her usual Parisian French the next. A faint shadow of pain passed over Mrs. Winchester’s face. Daisy looked out the window at the drifts of ivy hanging from the evergreen trees. Mrs. Winchester had exulted in her resolve to keep the Winchester Mansion to herself until she and the house should have time to make friend. But the uneasy feeling she had left her wanting to take the chill off. The house was enormous, mysterious, and drawn into its own secret past. “Why not come stay with me?” she said. “I know you would like to settle down somewhere in the country where you will not be disturbed, and I have plenty of room.” “Well, Aunt Sarah, your home certainly does provide the requisite seclusion. I would be honored to.” “I promise no one shall bother you—” Mrs. Winchester added, half-nervously: “Not even the spirits.” Was the solitude already making Mrs. Winchester superstitious? Mrs. Winchester walked Daisy to the bedroom she was to sleep in. They parted ways. While Daisy was dressing for bed she heard a knock, and saw Kaspian Gosta, the Butler’s round face just inside the door. “Is there anything wrong with your accommodations, my lady?” “Yes, what’s wrong is that it freezes in here.” “Nothing can be done, my lady. Everything has been tried.” “That will do, Mr. Gosta. I want a fire to be lit in the fireplace,” said Daisy.” “Yes, my lady.” The door closed on the butler. #RandolphHarris 3 of 9
It was the witching hour, or so it seemed. Lights out, and only far-off sounds: a woman laughing hysterically, the crack of a gun. It seemed for a while there had been the faint thudding of drums. Daisy awoke. There was a man standing over her, he was hot, covered with sweat, he stretched uneasily in his clothes. The man emitted inhuman sounds: a piglike squeal. This reduced Daisy to a nervous wreck. She screamed and the made quickly faded away. She heard rapid foot steps in the hallway and then a knock at the door. “Come in,” she said. “My lady, are you okay?” “No, Mr. Gosta. There was someone in my room,” Daisy explained. “That is what I tried to warn you about, my lady. The specter like to keep the heat down in the house.” The next morning, she did not want to be alone in the house for more than a few minutes at a time. However, whenever she would go to Mrs. Winchester there was a strange wind that seemed to repel her from her door. Always, there was something not quite right about the Winchester Mansion, as far back as Daisy could remember. Neighbors and friends suggested that the Winchester fortune was cursed. “I never would believe it,” Daisy said. “That is not how I was brought up.” In her bedroom, she undressed and lied down, holding her rosary beads to her heart, as she hoped and prayed, just as she has over so many nights, that the freezing cold and the specters would stop. Mrs. Winchester employed a small workforce of men and women. By December, the fruit harvest in the orchards had been picked, packages, and dispatched to the respective buyers. #RandolphHarris 4 of 9
On October 25, 1896, shortly after she had gone to sleep, Daisy was wakened by a series of loud poundings and scratching noises on the ceiling. She could not tell where they were coming from. She left her bed—and met Mrs. Winchester on the stairs. She was agitated. “Were you making that racket?” Mrs. Winchester asked. “No, Aunt Sarah. I thought it was someone else.” They found all the first-floor gasoliers on and no one about. Mrs. Winchester asked who was last downstairs, if perhaps Mr. Gosta forgot to switch off the lights. However, Daisy was the last one and she swore she had turned everything off. There was a tangible presence in the Winchester mansion. One could hear it at all hours of the day and night. “I would be sitting and would hear it shuffling about,” Daisy recalls. “Not footsteps as such, but rustling and shuffling. I could not see anything. Not at first.” As the months passed, the presence gradually made itself known. Around the middle of January 1897, the Winchester mansion was awakened by a blood curdling scream in the night. Daisy was crying and shaking with fear. After a few hours she calmed down and went back to sleep when she felt something on her back. It was pushing her out of bed, but when she looked around, there was no one there. However, it felt as though someone was trying to eject her from the bed, as if she did not belong there. Then suddenly, the duvet was ripped off the bed, leaving her shivering. #RandolphHarris 5 of 9
The next morning, Mrs. Winchester glanced about the great room, with its circle of warmth and light by the hearth, and the sullen shadows huddled at its father end, as if hungrily listening. She noticed that things moved in the room. Doors were left opened—drawers and things have shuffled through. In the night she would hear a lot of running and banging and the sound of horses’ hooves. It was like a cavalry of horsemen passing through the halls. When Mrs. Winchester drew back the curtains and looked out, the lamps on the gateposts were bathing the roadway in a soft light. There were no horses, but the sounds were still coming from the hallway. When she opened the door of her bedroom, the noises got louder, and she could hear men conversing, and shouting at each other. Mrs. Winchester could not understand what they were saying. She had no idea if it was even English. But the galloping and hammering and sawing continued, which was always followed by a terrible howl at dusk. As the peered through the sky, Mrs. Winchester would open her door and be surprised to find that certain rooms had been sealed off and new additions added to the house, along with the most exquisite furnishings. The next night while she was sleeping. Mrs. Winchester was awakened by a ferocious thud on the floor, and she heard Daisy screaming and hollering like she was in great pain. Mrs. Winchester quickly rushed to see what was wrong and found her limp on the floor, unable to move. #RandolphHarris 6 of 9
Mrs. Winchester was terrified. The room was as cold as an icebox and seemed darker than usual. Daisy’s face was white as milk. Dr. Odin rushed to the Winchester Estate, finding Daisy immobile and unable to communicate. He said that Daisy’s vocal cords were hoarse and that she had suffered a serious spinal injury with resultant loss of sight. After months of suffering and pain, on April 22, 1897, she was suddenly cured of her blindness. On May 31, 1897, Daisy was cured of her spinal trouble. The cures had apparently been wrought by Mrs. Winchester through séances. Satan is willing and able to perform diabolic miracles. Satanic healings, however, shift the physical disorder into the psychic plane by bringing the “healed” person into some type of occult bondage. The ability of such magicians is conditioned on the human plane by their inherent psychic power, and on the supernatural plane. Black magicians differ in strength and psychic ability to perform magical feats often described as Satanic Miracles. Strong magicians usually own their success to innate psychic powers. Very frequently they come from a family where the occult arts have flourished for generations. Their innate and inherited occult powers are frequently cultivated and enhanced by séances. To enlist the help of Satan and demons, a pact is often made with the powers of evil. The subject consciously and willingly gives oneself over to Satan and demonic agencies who will help one perform healing conjurations and other supernatural feats. Ordinarily the body is cut and the compact with the devil is written and signed in one’s own blood. #RandolphHarris 7 of 9
Everything was all right for a while, but the house became disturbed again at night by the sawing of wood. Daisy pushed on the gasoliers and could not believe her eyes. Men were in the hallway sawing wood really fast. She was surprised to find Mrs. Winchester and Mr. Gosta in the front parlor. “What’s going on?” Daisy asked? Mrs. Winchester was in a flood of tears. “Mrs. Winchester thought she saw a black monster with hooves in the bathroom,” Mr. Gosta explained. “But it is gone now.” What was happening in the Winchester Mansion was unnatural. The things were real, but they were not only under attack, the were also being protected by demons. The next time, Daisy was awakened by a loud thud in the far corner of the bedroom. There was an old woman with long, gray hair falling over her face, and a young man with heavy boots, and a dark stain down the front of his shirt. The old woman came towards her with her arms outstretched. Daisy ran to the door but it would not open. And through the door came a deep set of ancient eyes with a demonic face starting into her eyes. From that day on, the smile on her face died. She was always trembling. She stared almost blankly, and was always cold. Never had things in the mansion been so scary. Mrs. Winchester was amazed to see the change in her. Daisy was positively shaken. Mrs. Winchester would ask Daisy, “My dear, what is the matter.” And in a flat, cold tone, Daisy would reply, “You do not know my pain.” And she would look away. Although it heals, many people are psychically ruined through magic. Sometimes violet and sinister forces appear. This indicates that the origin of the damage is primarily of a spiritual nature. #RandolphHarris 8 of 9
I conjure thee, O fire, by him who made thee and all other creatures for good in the World. Welcome Spirit Botis and your 60 Legions of Spirits, O most noble King! I say thou art welcome unto me, because I have called thee through Him who has created Heaven, and Earth, and Hell, and all that is in them contained, and because also thou hast obeyed. By that same power by the which I have called thee forth, I bind thee, that thou remain affably and visibly here before this Circle so constant and so long as I shall have occasion for thy presence; and not to depart without my license until thou hast duly and faithfully performed my will without any falsity. BY THE PENTACLE OF SOLOMON HAVE I CALLED THEE! GIVE UNTO ME A TRUE ANSWER. Please blessed this house with great prosperity, abundance, wisdom, power and longevity. I think you for your empowerments which have served to assist my evolution toward divinity and power. Please take the spiritual wisdom that you bring and open the paths for more prosperity to flow into my life. Allow this sorcerous current to be a conduit of information which comes with it, and become more away of the precise reasons for the work upon the Pathway of Pacts. Allow me to understand this symbolism as well as the most powerful goal of the process. Meratsav tadad oybugird miy a iaruha acmerhtahsx iadzam hsuehgna mananahtoayhs ohgnanam adzad hsuehgnav acah tictahas hsutar ahta oyriav uha ahtay x7. Show various paths to self-mastery through the seven powers. #RandolphHarris 9 of 9
The Winchester Mystery House
The Winchester Mystery House is elegant, powerful, beautiful, mysterious and insidiously successful in whatever it does. It is a powerful aphrodisiac for certain occultists who are impatient with “parlor” esoteria. Where old systems weakened or visions grew dim, new ones were invented. It is impossible to find a single ideological thread uniting the Winchester Mystery House in its spiritual pilgrimage. One might glace at some choices, none of which stands up to scrutiny. Come and take a tour of the 110 of the remaining 160 rooms of amazement and wonder. Perhaps you will make contact with something special? https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
And be sure to visit the online gift shop: https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/
Leaders of the Darkness of this World
The Winchester Mansion is one of the most beautiful homes in the World. The complexity, workmanship, and precision of the structure shows that this architect had planning and building skills far beyond what had formerly been attributed to the Victorian Era. The Winchester Mansion is surrounded by a pleasant grove of all and stately trees. In the mist, there are fountains, sending forth clear and crystal waters, and fast, by a magnificent palace. In the 19th century, it impressed the spectator that it was not the work of mortal hands, but the happy retreat of some God. Drawn by admiration and wonder, many wished to enter and see the amazement of such an elaborate home. Golden pillars supported the vaulted roof, and the walls were enriched with carvings and paintings representing angels and the chase and rural scenes, adapted to delight the eye of the beholder. Proceeding onward inside the mansion, there were nearly 600 rooms filled with all manner of treasures, and beautiful and precious productions of nature and art. While her eyes were occupied, enjoying her magnificent home, though she saw no one, uttering these words: “Sovereign lady, all that you see is yours. We whose voices you hear are your servants and shall obey all your commands within our utmost care and diligence. Retire therefore to your chamber and repose on your bed of down, and when you see git, repair to the bath. Supper awaits you in the adjoining alcove when it pleases you to take your seat there.” Mrs. Winchester gave ear to the admonitions of her vocal attendants, and after repose and the refreshment of the bath, seated herself in the alcove, where a table immediately presented itself, without any visible assistance from waiters or servants, and covered with the greatest delicacies of food and the most nectarous juices. #RandolphHarris 1 of 10
Her ears too were feasted with music from invisible performers; of whom one sang, another played on the lute, and all closed in the wonderful harmony of a full chorus. At this site, engineers found a stone colossus surrounded by a forest of fifty-four columns of immense size and height, which were used to build the foundation. Some of these stones weight 1,100 tons and were seventy-two feet long. No one knows how these stones were moved because Victorians were thought not to have the technology. At the end of one of the passages of the Winchester Mansion, there also was once an entrance that opened onto a passage sixty-two feet long, a buried avenue flanked by forty-three stones—most of them taller than a man and weighed thirteen tons each. At the end of the passage was a complex structure of huge rocks, some carved with symbolic designs, forming a cross-shaped chamber that rose into a vault some twenty feet above the floor. On the floor of each arm of the cross was a basin stone—a large, flat rock with a shallow indentation carved into it. In this area bodies of the dead were placed, corpses were broken and scattered by time and marauding animals. The roof stones were grooved to carry water away from the chamber, and their seams were sealed with puttylike burned soil. It appeared to have been a cathedral to some kind of life force. Scattered about lay sickles and rakes and all the instruments of harvest, without order, as if thrown carelessly out of the weary reapers’ hands in the sultry hours of the day. After the mansion was constructed, there were sheep feeding without a shepherd, with golden-shining fleeces on their back. #RandolphHarris 2 of 10
One of Mrs. Winchester’s favorite homes in the mansion was the Hall of Fires. On this night, the air was almost silky in the Hall of Fires, it has an inviting warmth. Mrs. Sarah L. Winchester was at her harpsichord, she had been playing for hours. Her candle had burned low; the darkness was turning to mist outside of the window. This evening she was concerned, he nephew fell ill, and she did not know if he would make it much longer. It was too bad, she was thinking, he is not so terrible to look at. In fact, he was handsome. Alarik blew out the candle at his bed, as he lay listening to the soft music playing in the background, it made the Earth tremble. Alarik came to Mrs. Winchester sickened. He was a hard-working farmer of age seventeen. On his stony acres, he did his best to support himself. The hill his farm was on was thought to be bewitched, causing anyone who dared climb it to turn a bright blue, and fear of this fate had been enough to be anyone but Alarik away for centuries. He uncovered a number of skeletons whose skulls bore the telltale scars of sword cuts. Time and nature did the rest, silting over the city and burying it beneath the farm his was proud owner of. Shortly after unearthing humans remains was when he fell ill and was drive by carriage to Aunt Sarah’s estate. She was more than happy to take him in. When the doctor arrived, Mrs. Winchester asked him to examine her nephew and asked him, “What do you make of this business Dr. Egil?” Dr. Egil shook his head. “The boy’s a sick man—that’s sure. Something’s sucking the life clean out of him.” Why the Winchester family? He wondered if it was something in their past, something about the mansion and their bloodline. #RandolphHarris 3 of 10
“God only knows,” Mrs. Winchester said with a sigh. “God alone has all the answers. All I can do is speculate. I have never seen a case like this in all of my career. Who’s to say, but maybe he is put up with a demon. God help him,” Dr. Egil replied. Though his eyes blurred with tears, slowly Alarik raised an arm and brushed his cheek with his fingers before the arm fell back. “You look tires, Alarik,” Mrs. Winchester said. “Are you getting enough sleep?” “Of course not.” He looked up sharply. “I’m still have the dreams. Aren’t you?” She smiled. “Every night.” Just mentioning them send paralyzing fears. They both knew they were not dreaming. No one could admit the terror that each reveal struck in them. Now they haunted them well past dawn and all through each day: The sharp chins and bony noses, the cheekbones like broken glass, and the eyes, always green, always slanted, always eerie. It left Mrs. Winchester’s gaze as cold as a knife of panic slicing through him, a steel-bladed reminder that the dream were real. The only where they were coming from—and why. Deep down inside, Mrs. Winchester knew it was the hold of the Druids and it was too strong. Heaven knows what happened on all that land in days gone by. The Winchester’s never knew what they inherited. It is strange how things workout. Although she enjoyed the Hall of Fires, she wished not to tarry in that room for too long while he was there; there was an uncanny air about it. As she was halfway out the door, the tranquil atmosphere of the evening was shattered. A terrifying scream rent the air, sending a chill through Mrs. Winchester and Alarik. #RandolphHarris 4 of 10
“My goodness, there must be a wounded animal nearby, that was not human at all,” Mrs. Winchester said. It frightened the life out of them both. Then a chair fell back with a clatter. Mrs. Winchester approached her nephew. He pointed his figure at the window. For a fleeting moment Mrs. Winchester could not believe what she was seeing. “God Almighty, that face!” The face before them was some transmogrified floating head of utter malevolence. The lips were pulled back in a terrible grimace. And the eyes—they were not the eyes of a human but hooded, like those of a cold-blooded creature predating mankind. Alarik felt her hand on his wrist. She was trembling. But he was recoiling from that awful face. He knew in his weakened state that he could not move and get away from it. His gaze dropped from that fathomless face. It gave Alarik a curious agitated feeling to think that here, in this now icy solitude, in the mansion he had so often admired, a dark mystery, too deep for thought, was being enacted. His heart began to beat stifling. Suddenly he gave an exclamation: “Look!” He had detected a man’s foot prints; two; then three; then more. “God—barefoot!” Alarik gasped. “Then it is…the dead…That is demonic,” said Mrs. Winchester. “I have seen it before, lots of times. It is pretty clear that there are demons at work.” In the Winchester Mansion, these things were not isolated, random occurrences but part of a whole—something sinister. The hauntings lasted for many years. One evening, Alarik felt a tremendous blow to the back of his skull and he later died. #RandolphHarris 5 of 10
It was a traumatic event. Mrs. Winchester witnessed five objects begin to rise slowly out of the floor. They formed a rough semicircle about Alarik. They were human head. They were terrible looking. The grotesque faces were disfigured: all sores, terrible teeth and mouths, and they were all biting, like biting towards him. It was a vision from hell, worse than anything Mrs. Winchester could ever dream about. The heads were shrieking. As the feet of the dead stampeded through the room. The cold seemed to enter Mrs. Winchester’s very marrow. Her teeth were chattering. She shook like a leaf. The house seemed to plunge into total blackness. Mrs. Winchester groped her way across the floor, caught a sharp splinter of the fallen door in her palm, seemed to see something white and wraithlike surge up out of the darkest corner of the hall, and then heard a revolver shot. She was covered with icy sweat. Eyes listless. She advanced down the narrow side of the zigzag stairs. Her face was whiter than ever, as she saw bony, bloody hands clasping the Good Book. Mrs. Winchester fell back. When she awoke refreshed with sleep, she looked around, and the ghoulish heads, their mouths still opening and shutting obscenely, began to retract into the Earth. Mrs. Winchester felt slightly at ease. However, her ordeal was not yet at an end. Suddenly, the hair on her scalp was being yanked upward with great violence. Before she knew what was happening, her abuser was crouched down in front of her, their faces almost touching. #RandolphHarris 6 of 10
Mrs. Winchester was looking into features that resembled those of the hideous heads. She started screaming uncontrollably. She pushed the face into the floor. Her mind was a riot of thoughts, all frantically trying to explain the atrocious acts. Mrs. Winchester recalled the terrible visions recounted by the saints and mystics of antiquity and felt she was being attacked by the same forces. Mrs. Winchester took lots of bed rest after this series of paranormal events. However, she always felt an evil presence in the mansion and would get stone cold. She could not move at times. But the evil force certainly did. It terrified Mrs. Winchester. She always knew when it was coming for her because her body temperature would drop. She would start to shiver and turn blue from head to toe—really freezing cold. Mrs. Winchester’s belief that the spirit World was watching over her was a comfort. Evil spirits are organized into a military-like structure. The “principalities” are the highest ranking officers under Satan, the “powers” are officials of somewhat lower standing, and the “rulers of the darkness of this World” seem to be a special band of evil spirits whose sphere of influence includes the leaders of human government. The phrase “spiritual wickedness in high places” is better translated “spiritual hosts of wickedness in the Heavenly places,” and makes reference to the myriads of demonic hordes. They are all under the direction of Satan, who is not only named the “god of this age,” but also called “the prince of the power of the air.” The Black Arts could be highly dangerous and most emphatically not a field for the unstable, immature or otherwise emotionally or intellectually weak-minded people. #RandolphHarris 7 of 10
I DO conjure thee Spirit Crocell and your 48 Legions of Spirits, by all the most glorious and efficacious names of the MOST GREAT AND INCOMPREHENSIBLE LORD GOD OF HOSTS, that thou comest quickly and without delay from all parts and places of the Earth and World wherever thou mayest be, to make rational answers unto my demands, and that visibly and affably, speaking with a voice intelligible unto mine understanding as aforesaid. I conure and constrain thee, O thou Spirit Crocell and your 48 Legions of Spirits, by all the names aforesaid; and in addition by these seven great names wherewith Solomon the Wise bound three and thy companions in a Vessel of Brass, ADONAI, PREYAI or PRERAI, TETRAGRAMATON, ANAPHAXETON or ANEPHENETON, INESSENFATOAL or INESSENFATALL, PATHTUMON or PATHATUMON, and ITEMON; that thou appearest here before this Circle to fulfil my will in all things that seem good unto me. And if thou be still so disobedient, and refusest still to come, I will in the power and by the power of the name of the SUPREME AND EVERLASTING LORD GOD WHO created both thee and me and all the World in six days, and what is contained therein, EIE, SARAYE, and by the power of this name PRIMEUMATON which commandeth the whole host of Heaven, curse thee, and deprive thee of thine office, joy, and place, and bind thee in the depths of the Bottomless Pit or Abyss, there to remain unto the Day of the Last Judgment. #RandolphHarris 8 of 10
And I will bind thee in the Last Judgment. And I will bind thee in the Eternal Fire, and into the Lake of Flame and of Brimstone, unless thou comest quickly and appearest here before this Circle to do my will. Therefore, come thou! In and by the holy names ADONAI, ZABAOTH, ADONAI, AMIORAN. Come thou! For ADONAI, ZABAOTH, ADONAI, AMIORAN. Come thou! For it is ADONAI who commandest thee. If THOU hast come thus far, and yet he appeareth not, thou mayest be sure that he is sent unto some other place by his King, and cannot come; and if it be so, invocate the King as here followeth, to send him. However, if he do not come still, then thou mayest be sure that he is bound in chains in hell, and that he is not in the custody of his King. If so, and thou still hast a desire to call him even from thence, thou must rehearse the general curse which is called the Spirits’ Chain. As this smoke ascends I ascend also by following the path of smoke and usurping the power of worship to empower my blackened eternal soul. I take all power raised within this sanctuary as my own through this talisman of counter creation to strengthen my divine power and to Become a Living God. May my energy act as the very key which unlocks the cages of imprisonment so that I can reach liberation by stepping into the outer darkness which reunited the isolated frequencies of the light spectrum. Through this may I better perceive reality and become better able to counter create through personal alchemical transmutation and sorcery. #RandolphHarris 9 of 10
From ancient times, people have looked for positive guidance from the spirit World. However, they also believed demons caused most of the World’s problems. Demons were said to cause comets, volcanic eruptions, and eclipses. Some people believed demons were the reason for all illness. Demons had to be cast out before a person could get well. Basically, anything negative that people did not understand was blamed on demons. AD. 500, the Greek and Roman empires had fallen. Education declined. Without a scientific understanding of the World, people’s beliefs in demons resurfaced. The Middle Ages lasted from about 500 to 1500. During this time, anyone acting strangely was accused of being possessed. Religious leaders had the most power during the Middle Ages. They believed demons existed and had to be cast out with prayer. If this did not work, then people were tortured. Torture was meant to make the body too uncomfortable for the demon to stay there. Unfortunately, many people died being tortured. If torture did not work, “possessed” people were killed. Thousands of stories exist about demons from cultures around the World. The stories usually reflect the lifestyles and concerns of those who believed in them. One demon found in folklore in many cultures was the mermaid. She was said to be part beautiful woman and part sea creature. The demon mermaid is not like the sweet ones found in children’s books of movies. Demon mermaids were said to crush sailors to death or drown them. Then they would eat the sailors with their sharp teeth. According to legend, mermaids sat upon rocks, combing their long hair and singing beautifully. A mermaid’s beautiful voice attracted sailors to their doom. #RandolphHarris 10 of 10
Winchester Mystery House
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It Wants You—or Your Soul to be More Exact!
The rain was still falling thickly when Hans Parker, who farmed the land of the Winchester Estate, rode up to Sarah L. Winchester’s gate. He was surprised to see two other cutters ahead of him. It was not often that anybody in Satan Clara Valley entered Mrs. Winchester’s gate; least of all in the dead of winter. Hans glanced through the thickening fall of rain at the desolate front of the Winchester Mansion, the more melancholy in it present neglected state because, like the gateposts, it kept traces of former elegance. Hans had often wondered how such a house had come to be built in that lonely stretch. People said there had once been other houses like it, a sort of valley colony created by railroad barons, who had been murdered by Indians, with their families long before Mrs. Winchester purchased her farmhouse. This tale was confirmed by the fact that there were other Victorian farmhouses still to be discovered under the wild growth of the adjoining fruit orchards. The whole place, even in summer, wore a mournful solitary air, and people wondered why Mrs. Winchester had gone there to settle. “I never knew this place,” Enoch Unger said, “as seemed as far away from humanity.” The three men walked across the drive to the front door. Hans felt a jab of pain in his right arm as Johan Green disappeared into the fields at the Winchester Estate. “Someone had pricked me,” he exclaimed, but Hans and Enoch pressed on to Mrs. Winchester’s front door. People in the Santa Clara Valley did not usually come and go by their front doors, but the two remaining men seemed to feel that, on an occasion which appeared to be so exceptional, the usual and more familiar approach by the kitchen would not be suitable. #RandolphHarris 1 of 11
They had judged rightly; Enoch had hardly lifted the knocker when the door opened and Mrs. Winchester stood before them. “Walk right in,” she said in her usual perky-level tone; and Hans, as he followed, thought to himself: “Whatever’s happened, she’s not going to let it show in her face.” It was doubtful indeed, if anything unwonted could be made to show in Mrs. Winchester’s face. She was dressed for the occasion in a black calico with white spots, a collar or crochet lace fastened by a gold brooch, and a grey woolen shawl, crossed under her arms and tied at the back. Her dark hair, parted above this prominence, passed tight and flat over the tips of her ears into a small brained coil at the nape. Her eyes were a golden honey brown, her complexion was an even white. Her age might have been anywhere from thirty to forty. The room into which she led the two men was the Venetian dining room of the Winchester Mansion. “Please suit yourselves to seats,” she said. The two men, with an increasing air of constraint, took the chairs she pointed out, and Mrs. Winchester sat stiffly down upon a third. “I pressure you gentlemen are wondering what it is I asked you to come here for,” she said in her calming voice. Hans and Enoch murmured an assent. “Well, I allow you may have guest it was to renovate my gardens and fruit orchards. There has been a small spell cast over us and the gardens have grown quite out of control.” Hans looked up sharply, an incredulous smile pinching his lips, “That is some spell, I have been gone a week and hardly recognize this place.” #RandolphHarris 2 of 11
“That is what I said: the estate is bewitched.” Again the two visitors were silent. Hans coughed and cleared his long rattling throat. Mrs. Winchester looked down at her clasped hands, as if she was hiding a precious secret. Hans noticed that the inner folds of her lids were the same uniform white as the rest of her skin, so that when she looked surprised, her rather beautiful eyes looked like the sightless orbs of a marble statue. At that moment, Hans stood up and Mrs. Winchester noticed she saw something like the mark of a hypodermic needle on his neck. He developed a fever, had swelling in his armpits and displayed trouble breathing. Later that evening, he sank into a coma. He died early the next morning. Doctors certified that Hans had died of pneumonia. However, Mrs. Winchester had his blood analyzed, and the blood work pointed to the presence of Yersinia pestis, a lethal bacteria that caused a plague in his blood. Mrs. Winchester and Enoch wondered, how could this happen? They uncovered a plot that Johan had come up with to kill Hans with a sample of a culture of plague bacteria from medical laboratories. When the men were walking to the Winchester Estate, Johan produced a needle and forcibly stuck it in Hans’ neck, breaking the skin. The glasses were tainted with the germs. Johan’s goal was to penetrate the finest fortress known to many in America, which was the Winchester Mansion. He also brought death to a waiter, a doctor in a white coat, the driver of Mrs. Winchester’s hired car, and even a bum on the street. The evil in him made Mrs. Winchester shudder insofar as an angel could shutter. #RandolphHarris 3 of 11
A silence fell, during which Mrs. Winchester and Enoch seemed to be listening for the sound of a step; but none was heard. Enoch felt an icy chill down his spine. Instinctively he turned away his eyes from Mrs. Winchester. Suddenly, they heard a rusty creaking laugh of one whose mirth was never moved by gaiety. It was linked with the other phenomena—the thrown Bible, the hammering on the doors, the ghostly footsteps, and the eerie wailing of a woman. Mrs. Winchester looked coldly at Enoch. Again Enoch felt the chill down his spine. He tried to dissipate the sensation by speaking with an affection of energy. “Can you tell me, Mrs. Winchester, how this trouble we are experiencing shows itself?” She looked at him for a moment; then she leaned forward. A thin smile of disdain narrowed her colorless lips. “I do not think—I know.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “I seen them.” In the ashen light from the veiling of rain beyond the windows Enoch’s eyes seem to give out red sparks. The outer door had opened; they heard the familiar stamping and shaking of a man who rids his garment of the rain before penetrating to the sacred precincts of the best parlor. With that came the arrival of a hooded figure. As he came in her faced the light from the north window, and Enoch’s first thought was that he looked like a drowned man fished out from under the ice—“self-drowned,” he added. But the cold rain and light plays cruel tricks with a man’s color, and even with the shape of one’s features. Mrs. Winchester and Enoch were shocked to see it was Johan. Mrs. Winchester sought for a word to ease the horror. “Well, now, Johan—you look as if you ought to set right up to the Hall of Fires.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 11
The feeble attempt was unavailing. Johan never moved nor answered. He stood among them silent, incommunicable, like one risen from the dead. Enoch grabbed him by the shoulder. Still Johan did not move. Enoch’s hand dropped from his shoulder. In spite of the man’s rough bullying power he seemed to be undefinably awed by Johan’s look and tone. They were all very disturbed. The Bible fell from the top most shelf of the book case in the dining room and landed open on the rug. Enoch and Mrs. Winchester could only stare at the good book. Before their astonished eyes the pages began to turn, all by themselves, from right to left, as though invisible fingers were leafing through them. From somewhere beneath the table came a deep rumble. The vibration was so powerful that they could feel their legs tremble. It was as though a huge generator had started up. An atmosphere of menace and threat seemed to pervade the room. The air felt charged. Johan was flung backward, as if someone had pushed him in the chest. He fell into an armchair. Another tremor came from the floor. Then, Johan levitated to the ceiling and like Satan, fell as if he was lightning from Heaven through the floor and there was no more sign of him. Indeed Mrs. Winchester and Enoch were trembling. Mrs. Winchester stormed over to the widow. The dayhad turned to a velvety black night, the kind that melted your vision around the edges. She took a quick look over the gardens and saw a legion of demons pruning and trimming the boxwood hedges, and the glorious evergreen trees. She sat down at her table and pressed her forehead against its coo, wood surface. Enoch was sweating bullets and threw the Bible angrily onto the floor. “Mrs. Winchester, I believe the Good Book is conjuring up these hauntings!” he said. #RandolphHarris 5 of 11
Mrs. Winchester nodded. “You knew…or you thought you knew…you were meeting with the dead?” Enoch bent his head again. The rain continued to fall in a steady unwavering sheet against the window, and he felt as if a winding sheet were descending from the sky to envelop them all in a common grave as an enormous white mist appeared in the mansion. “Prayer is not any good. In this kind of thing, it is no manner of use; you know it is not. I called you hear, Enoch, because you remember. A long winter night…they drove a stake through her breast.” “Who’s breast?” “Oh, Enoch, you must remember. A woman who called herself Eve, claiming that this was the Garden of Eden. Not that Victorian tradition is wrong, but the farmers said she committed the first act of evil.” Neither had any great urge to leave the house—not that time of night and without good reason. The Butler showed Enoch to his sleeping chambers and Mrs. Winchester slept in the Daisy Bedroom that evening. But, at around 3am, the house was wide awake again. They heard, plainly the mourful cries of a woman. This time they were coming from the third floor. It almost seemed as though she were crying out for her lost children. It went on for ages, Mrs. Winchester felt helpless to do anything. After that night, the hooded figure began to appear more frequently. The screaming at the windows and the hammering on the doors resumed. Doors started slamming. Mrs. Winchester and Enoch went to inspect what was happening. There was a man and three women tearing through the house, but no one had let them in. #RandolphHarris 6 of 11
“What is God’s name do you think you are playing at!” Mrs. Winchester demanded. Enoch was angry. “No one invited you here,” he said. “No,” Allister said, “but nonetheless you need me.” “Last night the gates of hell opened up and now you are in my home. I will not have such disrespect! All four of you are to leave at once!” said Mrs. Winchester. Abruptly, the dynamics of the situation had changed—changed utterly and in the most chilling way. Enoch tried to speak, but the word simply would not come. There was a tense silence. Something was cautioning Enoch not to inflame the situation further. Then Allister had begun speaking in a strange language. The women appeared to be chanting; their heads were no longer bowed but raised up and tilted to one side. Their eyes were closed. Mrs. Winchester could not tell what kind of language they were speaking, but they must have disturbed something. That rumbling sound, only this time it was louder and did not stay under the dining room table. It started to move across the floor. They could feel the floor vibrating under them—like there was something moving under the floorboards, very fast. And it went out into the hall. The paranormal activity was of a different order. Mrs. Winchester had never seen the like of it. The walls started to bleed, the chandeliers saw, and the house moaned and groaned. Allister and these women had brought a stronger menace into their home, one that was gaining ground by the second. Then at once it all stopped. #RandolphHarris 7 of 11
Everyone in the home went into a shock. They all knelt there, just stiff with fear. They could not move. They could not speak. All they could do was blink their eyes. Then there was a gradual coldness in the room. It crept up on them and chilled them to the bone. They heard the doorknob turn and the door slowly open. The cold intensified. But there was nothing they could do. This figured blocked the doorway. It was very surreal and terrifying. It is very hard to say what this creature was. It was huge, and it had wings. It was a demon. Mrs. Winchester started addressing the creature. “What are you doing in my home?” Astonishingly, a very deep voice was coming from all around the room. From the ceiling, the floor, everywhere. They could not tell if it was right before them, behind them, below or above—it was everywhere. “Give me what I want and I will leave!” it bellowed. “If you do not, I will take your soul this instance! You were given instructions to build a house and never stop building! Do not dwell on ghosts, and spirits! Do not associate with these common folk. Build, build, build or you will die a horrible death in the depths of hell! He continued with a chuckle. “This is our homes and you must pay the price. It is dangerous to meddle with the wishes of demons.” Mrs. Winchester was studded. “These guests, they are mine. You have been too distracted and I have come to claim their souls. Honor my wishes or you will meet the same fate. No guests are allowed in this house!” #RandolphHarris 8 of 11
The mansion started to rumbled and groan like it was hungry, the guests flew into the walls and disappeared. The demon crashed through the skylight, leaving Mrs. Winchester terribly shaken. She had the rooms torn down to see if she could find the bodies, but the search was in vain. They were rebuilt. Stairs to the ceiling, for hopes that their souls would materialize and leave. A door that opens to the wall, as a portal for these lost souls. Chimneys that stop just short of the roof to trap demons. From that day on, nothing was safe. It was as though the visit of the strangers had unleashed the fury of something unholy. From the day on, Mrs. Winchester had an icy shadow of loneliness as bitter as the Alaskan winters. The mansion grew more and more substantial. And when the servants looked at Mrs. Winchester’s face, they saw she had an honest, open expression and kind brown eyes. When she smiled, she smiled warmly. Neighbors often came with a loaf of bread they had baked, and also brought brown woolen blanket, furs, and would leave with frightened faces, and tatted clothing, never able to speak with Mrs. Winchester. The Winchester mansion, which contains orders and offices of Spirits that are even said to have conversed with Solomon, together with seals and characters belonging to each spirit. I Do invocate, conjure, and command thee, O thou Spirit Forneus and the 29 legions of spirits you govern, to appear and to show thyself visibly unto me before this Circle in fair and comely shape, without any deformity or tortuosity; 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. #RandolphHarris 9 of 11
And by the name ANAPHAXETON which Aaron heard and spake and was made wise; and by the name ZABAOTH, which Moses named and all the rivers were turned into blood; and by the name ASHER EHYEH ORISTON, which Moses named, and all the rivers brought forth frogs, and they ascended into the houses, destroying all things; and by the name ELION, which Moses named, and there was great hall such as had not been since the beginning of the World; and by the name ADONAI, which Moses named, and there came up locusts, which appeared upon the whole land, and devoured all which the hail had left; and by the name SCHEMA AMATHIA which Ioshua called upon, and the sun stayed his course; and by the name ALPHA and OMEGA, which Daniel named, and destroyed Bel, and slew the Dragon; and in the name EMMANUEL, which the three children, Shadrach, Meshach and Abed-nego, snag in the midst of the fiery furnace, and were delivered; and by the name HAGIOS; 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 constrain thee. And by these names, and by all other names of the LIVING and TRUE GOD, the LORD ALMIGHTY, I do exorcise and command thee, O SPIRIT BALAM, even by Him Who spake the Word and it was done, and to Whom all creatures are obedient; and by the dreadful judgments of God; and by the uncertain Sea of Glass, which is before the DIVINE MAJESTY, mighty and powerful; by the four beast before the throne, having eyes before and behind; by the fire round about the throne; by the holy angels of Heaven; and by the wisdom of God. #RandolphHarris 10 of 11
I do potently exorcise thee, that thou appearest here before this Circle, to fulfill my will in all things which shall seem good unto me; by the Seal of BASDATHEA BALDACHIA; and by this name PRIMEUMATON, which Moses named, and the Earth opened, and did swallow up Kora, Dathan, and Abiram. Wherefore thou shalt make faithful answers unto all my demands, O Spirits BALAM and FORNEUS, and shalt perform all my desires so far as in thine office thou art capable hereof. Wherefore, come thou, visibly, peaceably, and affably, now without delay, to manifest that which I desire, speaking with a clear and perfect voice, intelligibly, and to mine understanding. Magic is not a disease but the operation and influence of demon powers. The wide scope of occult power possessed by spirits helps explain why they can cause so much mischief. Through the phenomena of levitation, apports, telekinesis, and materializations, it is not difficult to see how a person endowed with strong mediumistic powers can do a great deal of harm, especially in the closely associated realm of magic. Magic defense enlists supernatural agencies to counteract or undo the mischief wrought by magic persecution. Various kinds of spells, charms, or incantations are employed. In spiritistic séances it is an established fact that injuries inflicted upon a phantasm are sustained by the medium, even in the case of animal phantasms. Many defensive customs developed to combat this threat since magic persecution involves materialization. If a victim can injure an aggressive phantasm, one has won the struggle. Missionaries all over the World have claimed to have witnessed cases of possession and repossession among converts from ancient idolatrous cultures, who live in servile fear and abject bondage to Satan. #RandolphHarris 11 of 11
Winchester Mystery House
This is Sarah Winchester’s beloved dog, Zip🐶 This cute pup once roamed the many halls of this estate. Do you think Zip ever got lost like so many of us do? https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
Join us on March 11th for the third installment of our Centennial Speaker Series! We invite you to solve the mystery of the Asian-inspired art and design lurking in Sarah Winchester’s very Victorian mansion. “Japonisme—a Passion for Japan” explores the decorating sensation that swept the western world during the last three decades of the 19 th century, and left an indelible mark on Sarah Winchester’s San Jose home. Speakers include Curator at SFO Museum, Nicole Mullen & West Coast Editor for Old House Journal, Brian Colman. Tickets available now! #100yearsofmystery
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A Nightmare Came to Me
Outside, rain was falling harder than ever, pounding on the roof, gurgling noisily through the gutter and downspouts. It was slanting across the front porch and through the shattered window, but we did not have time to worry about water damage. When I was well enough to trust myself to think about it all again I found that a very little thinking got my temperature up, and my heart hammering in my throat. And I sat and talked with my husband, on the same sofa—my husband who had been dead year! I clutched his hand, which was blue and waxy. Tears ran down my cheeks. The circle was a vicious one; I could not break through it. There would be no more sleepless nights spent smothered by his arms—he would never come to bed again. A sob ripped through my body. “Come back!” I wept into his neck. My back quaked, shoulder blades cutting sharp wings in the silk of my dress. I looked at William’s cold face, his eyes staring out into a new World that he could only see. A glacier of hurt expanded in my chest, and I could not get away from the clinging reality. It was a ghost I had been talking to, and not a mere projection of my imagination. Something survived of William Winchester—enough to cry out to me the uttered loneliness of a lifetime, to express at last of what I had always had to keep silent and hidden. The thought moved me curiously—in my weakness I lay and wept over it. No end of a marriage was ever like that, I supposed, and perhaps, after death, if my husband had got his chance, he would try to use it…Old tales and legends floated through my mind; Ziusudra from Old Babylonian, the medieval vampire—but what names to attach to the plaintive image of William Wirt Winchester! #RandolphHarris 1 of 9
All the preternatural World shimmered. Once a preternatural mind picks up the ripples of a sharp cut in the fabric of the ordinary, then another mind receives the image, and on it goes. And then a wickedness possessed me. I came closer toward William and embraced him, knowing that the hardness and coldness of my body would strike the deepest chord of terror in him. But he did not draw back. And when I kissed his cheek, he kissed mine. My mind wandering in and out among these visions and conjectures, and the longer I spent time with him, the more I became convinced that something which had been William Winchester had talked to me this night and held me in his loving arms. I made up my mind, to hurt out the spirits in my mansion—in that shady wing where the sun never bothers one—and appease the poor ghost with a few flowers for allowing me to see my husband again, and let them tell me about how they wanted my home constructed. These precious spirits not only protected me, but I felt that they truly loved me. I had had a glimpse of things that were really no business of mine. The spirits allowed me to see their archives. It was remarkable. A storehouse of tablets, scrolls, parchments—books and poems from cultures of which the World knows nothing. Books lost from time. Of course they forbade me to reveal anything I found except their detail drawings for construction plans. I held documents from Imperial Rome, and other crumbling bits of stone tablets. But after a while of thought, the knowledge began to trouble me. #RandolphHarris 2 of 9
I started to look at the queer neglected look of my house. There was a knot in my throat; I felt almost uncomfortable. “The housemaid forgets,” I heard my poor ghost husband quaver. I shook my head. After all, what had shocked me was that the change was so slight—that between being dead and alive. But William’s eyes were still searching me insistently. He sat silently, his eyes still on my face. His tears had stopped, but his look of solicitude slowly grew into a stare of something like terror. Hesitatingly, almost reluctantly, he stretched out his hand and laid it on mine for an instant more. “You must tell me,” my dead husband said. “I know I ought to have long ago,” I replied. I wanted to say more, but the words would not come. I hugged my ghost husband tighter, trying to find the old scent of his smooth skin. William could feel the rage trembling inside my body, the hatred that a curse had wedged between me and my family, as voices echoed down the bustling hallways of my mansion. I reached over to take him into my arms again, but midway I froze. A pair of beady black eyes stared back at me as the biggest snake I had ever seen taunted me with a forked and darting tongue. The serpent was enormous: as wide as a Zip and who knows how long, the thick muscle of its body flexing under a sheen of scales that glistened in an ominous black-and-red pattern, like tar glistening in the sun. It flicked its tongue at me almost seductively from inside a head as red and lustrous as fresh blood. I opened my mouth, but even the scream would not come right away—not until the viper brought itself up tall and hissed, flexing the scales on its neck. Then I let loose a shriek so loud that even the Greek statues looked like that wanted to take cover. #RandolphHarris 3 of 9
The snake swayed back and forth, beady eyes darting back and forth, as if there were other entities in the room and it was decided who to attack first. It filled me with a cold dread that ran deeper than fear, as if the devil himself had sent a dark and bloodthirsty messenger to my home. Its head was at least two feet off the floor, and there was who knew how much of its stilled coiled under the coffee table. I shrank back on the sofa. The snake burst through William’s throat with a loud roar. The snake hissed hideously, lashing its tail from side to side like a fresh-caught fish flopping on Long Wharf. Bjorn, the butler, heard the commotion and rushed into the parlor with Captain Henry Ware Lawton’s ’86 Winchester, shooting the snake again and again. Its tail flailed, jerking back and forth in a spray of glittering scales and blood. At Bjorn shot it one last time, the jerking stopped and the snake stiffened. For a second, it looked like it was levitating off the ground, all of its coiled muscular energy propelling itself into one final moment of life. And then it vanished. “My goodness, what happened in here?” Bjorn asked? “Oh, it was awful!” I sobbed. Zip leapt onto my lap and began licking my tear, and I heled him tight, weeping into his soft fur. “This snake just popped out of nowhere.” Bjorn jumped up, clasping his hands on his chest and darting away from me. At the other end of the room he stood and gazed, and then moved back slowly. “Then, after all—I wonder?” He held his eyes on me, half fearful and half reassured. “Could it be that this mansion is really haunted?” No,” I said slowly. #RandolphHarris 4 of 9
I walked through the huge vestibule and then into the peristyle and into the dining room. I beheld an amazing sight. My father-in-law, Oliver Winchester, was in full battle dress, armed with sword and dagger, lacking only his shield. He even wore his red cloak. His breastplate was polished and gleaming. He started at the floor and with reason. It had been dug up. The old Hearth from generations ago had been excavated. This had been the first room of this house that I started to remodel, and it was around this Hearth that the past owner and his family gathered, worshipped, and dined. I had never even seen it. There was a pattern, a texture of rectangular stones. It was a mosaic. There were slabs of decorated travertine, the kind you find in a cemetery. “What is God’s name is going on here?” I wondered. I was convinced that the ghost of my father-in-law was telling me this site was some kind of Pompeii waiting to be discovered. Lying in the pile of stones, there were several Roman funerary markers. Next to them was a marble altar decorated with rams’ heads and birds; one of the rams’ heads had been clipped, and the altar edges bore the fresh scars of a knife’s blade. Stumps of marble tombstones were strewn across what used to be my dining room. My heart sank. I could see small remnants of mosaics and terra-cotta urns. This was not just a small cluster of graves; it was extensive, probably composing four thousand or five thousand square feet of the main floor. In the center were the brick walls of what looked like a columbarium and other small mausoleum. Someone had sliced through a city of the dead. When I bought the house, it was an eighteen-room farmhouse, I had no idea what secrets it kept. #RandolphHarris 5 of 9
I remembered a similar discovery a few years earlier, as the construction workers were expanding the basement. The excavation hole was vast and deep and looked like the entry to hell. I later learned that we had dug into an ancient Roman villa, with frescoed paintings of birds, masks, and monsters. The artifacts were cleared out, cataloged, and stored in a museum on the estate that had long been forgotten. Then, there came a loud crash. The front door was being bashed in. My father-in-law wobbled as if he was fainting. He was white. Blood flowed and flowed from his wrists. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he vanished. I went to see what had become of my front door. Glancing through the thickening fall of the torrential rain, there was a melancholy man in black. He was wondering how such a house as mine came to be built. Explaining that there had been others like it, and that one Colonel Naglee, who had been murdered by the Indians, with all his family, once lived nearby. This tale was confirmed by the fact that the ruined cellars of several smaller houses were still to be discovered under the wild growth of the estate, and that the Communion plate of the moribund Episcopal church of Trinity Cathedral was engraved with the Colonel Naglee, who had given it to the church when it was consecrated in 1867. No other traces of the church remained. I never knew this place. My home seemed as far away from humanity. Miles were not the only distance. The man seeming satisfied turned into a gloomy mist and dissipated. It was not possible for any candle to keep fire. #RandolphHarris 6 of 9
I saw something in the mystical flash of the whole picture, and in a mad ray, the thing gripped me because it was so utterly unbelievable. All Christians believed the World would end soon. Preparing for this end of the World was the essence of religion. Blood flowed that night representing the Garden of Eden, Satan, and the magical presence of Christ’s blood having been poured into the chalice from the last supper. That night, I awoke to find a tall, hooded figure standing in the corner of the room. A full cowl threw the face into shadow; the arms were crossed over the chest. The creature’s hands were hidden in the deep folds of its garment. I was bloody scared because it was so real. I shouted at it, but it would not budge. It just stood there, even when I lit a candle. I figure if this man would not leave my sleeping chambers, I would. However, when I got to the landing, there it was again, standing at the bottom of the stairs. I did not know what to do. I ran back into my room and locked the door. The hooded entity demonstrated that doors and walls were no obstacles as it appeared at the foot of my bed again. I lie awake most of the night, a prisoner in my own bedroom. This druid did not want me to leave the house. But eventually I dozed off. As daylight broke at the window, I knew something was wrong. Little Zip was missing. I cursed myself for falling asleep. Trembling, I left the bed. The door was still locked. I hardly dared to think about what I might find outside. Refusing to accept the possibility that my dog could be lost to me. #RandolphHarris 7 of 9
However, Zip was safe. He lay fast asleep, curled up on the stairs. And demons also came out, many of them. From place to place, and from one room to another. Spirits came out of the walls. It was as if I was being transported back three thousand years into the days of old religion. There were bodies arranged on the floor as if they had taken part in some ancient ritual. The dark secrets of my mansion were almost as enchanting as was the glimpse of ancient cult rituals, which played out on their own. Horned monsters appeared, with glistening green eyes and blood and smoke exuding from their nostrils and fanged mouths. Sounds of mooing, hoof beats and cowbells made my ears bleed. Soon after all these hauntings, public lighting was introduced. Many were able to grasp the gas lamps of my estate, this arc lighting brought virtual daylight to my home, gardens. Later, the miracle of electricity penetrated my home, as well as other public places. With it, came the brilliance of the sun into cottages and palaces alike. The advances in lighting had affected the behaviour and the minds of people. The planet had been transformed by lighting. Yet, these times were still perfect for ghost, they had new sources of energy to feed off of and it was as if they became even more active. Being confused by light during the darkest nights, they started to come out in the daylight and cause even more of a fright. However, they still preferred the night, where they could hide in the shadows. The Winchester Mansion’s Demons still wanted fresh blood. And got what it wanted. I was truly frighted of all these new souls it was acquiring. I discovered the heart of superstition in myself. #RandolphHarris 8 of 9
To those who believe in them, a demon is an evil spirit. Demons are not a new idea. Stories of demons have been around for thousands of years. Early paintings and folklore show images and tell stories of demon possession. The word “demon” comes from the ancient Greek word daimon. It means “full of wisdom.” The idea of being possessed calls frightening visions to mind. However, not all possessions have been seen as negative. In ancient times, people believed being possessed by good spirits caused divine visions. Some people claimed to become possessed so spirits could speak through them. More than 3,000 years ago, the Greeks built the shrine of Delphi. The Greek built Delphi around a spring they thought was the center of the World. A priestess, called an oracle, lived at the shrine. People traveled great distances to visit the Oracle at Delphi. They believed she could get information from the spirit World. She answered people’s questions about the future. For thousands of years, people have believed that crystals held special psychic powers. Between AD 500 and 1500, the crystal ball became a popular tool for fortune-telling in European countries. Fortune-tellers would gaze into crystal balls and claim to see visions. In the visions, fortune-tellers said they received information about a person’s past, present, or future. Some people continue to seek guidance from the spirit World Mediums and psychics are people who claim to have knowledge of the spirit World. Some claim to know hidden information about you or your life’s path. It is estimated that The Winchester Manson once contained 500 to 600 rooms, but because so many were redone, only 160 remain. This naturally resulted in some peculiar effects, such as stairs that lead to the ceiling, doors that go nowhere and that opened onto walls, and chimneys that stop just short of the roof! #RandolphHarris 9 of 9
It was once recorded that a man showed up on Mrs. Winchester’s doorstep requesting an invitation for dinner, bloody palms and all, and Mrs. Winchester turned him away. Have you explored the house at night yet? Some tickets still available. Maybe we should all pray a little extra hard tonight and try our best to shun temptation when it comes knocin’ on our door. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
Can You Keep a Secret?
It is difficult to say exactly at what point fear begins, when the causes of that fear are not plainly before the eyes. They key to character that other people seek in the eyes, the mouth, the modeling of the skull, Mrs. Winchester found in the curve of the nails, the cut of the finger tips, the way the palm, rosy or swallow, smooth or seamed, swells up from its base. As a rule, after people die, things are tidied up, furniture is sold, remembrances are dispatched to other family members. However, Mrs. Winchester had managed to keep much of her mansion the same. I was not in the mood for noting details; but in the faint dabble of moving candle light I was half aware of bedraggled cushions, odds and ends of copper pots, and a jar holding a faded branch of some late-flowering shrub. A white figure flitted spectrally to the chimney piece, it lit two more candles, and set down the third one on a table. I had not had time to realize it was an apparition until Mrs. Winchester said, “Three candles—have you ever seen that sort of thing? I have got beyond all that you know,” she chuckled. “This house is built by spirits, after all. It really is such a sense of freedom. Come and sit down by me,” she entreated, sinking to a sofa. “It has been such an age since I have seen a living being.” Her choice of terms was not very mysterious, but I have the urge to turn and run. However, with her radiant face, hovering there in the candlelight, with her bashful red cheeks, the colour of varnished apples and her honey golden brown eyes swimming in vague kindliness, seemed to appeal to me against my cowardice, to remind me that, dead or alive, Sarah L. Winchester would never harm a flower. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
“Do sit down!” she repeated, and I took the other corner of the sofa. “It is so wonderfully good for you to come. It is an event—quite an event! I have had so few visitors since my death, you see.” Another bone chilling blast of cold air ran over me; but I looked at her resolutely, and again the innocence of her face disarmed me. I cleared my throat and spoke—with a huge panting effort, as if I had been heaving up a gravestone. “You live here alone?” I brought out. “Ah, I am glad to hear your voice—I still remember voices, though I hear so few,” she said dreamily. “Yes—I live here alone. The woman you saw goes away at night. She will not stay after dark…she used to work here when she was alive. However, it does not matter; I like the darkness.” Mrs. Winchester learned to me with one of her irrelevant smiles. “The dead,” she said, “naturally get used to it.” She stood up and fluttered across the room, wavering nearer and nearer to the door. “Do you know this place by daylight?” she asked abruptly. I shook my head. “It is very beautiful. The house is sprawling and in the gardens there are nearly 12,000 boxwood hedge, and some 1,500 plants, shrubs, and tree. It is really is the showplace of the Santa Clara Valley. There are over 10,00 windows which allow the sun to come flooding in lighting almost every square inch of the mansion. However, you will not see me in the day. The light—it makes my head ache. And so I sleep all day. Do you know where I usually sleep? I like the Daisy Bedroom. There is a shady corner down at the bottom where the sun never bothers one. Sometimes I sleep until the stars come out.” #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Her eyes were still fixed on me, and I saw two tears gather in their corners and run down over the red glistening circles on her cheeks. “You are not going, are you? You must not. I am too lonely.” I stammered something inarticulate, my eyes on the blue-nailed hand that grasped at the latch to the door. Suddenly, the door-to-nowhere crashed open, and a gust of wind, surging in out of the blackness, extinguished the candle on the nearest chimney corner. I glanced back nervously to see if the other candles were going out too. “You do not like the noise of the wind? I do. It is all I have to talk to. People do not like me much since I have been dead. Queer, is it not? The peasants are so superstitious.” She fell in love with the song of the wind, with the rich colours that pulsed all around her, with the rich colours that pulsed all around her in the flowers and drowsy palm trees of the mansion’s gardens. For many years she had been the dupe of superstition. The World had seemed a grim and unchangeable place to her, full of foolishness and ghoulishness, misery and injustice. She knew with an aching heart what young Annie had suffered and her husband William. Her World was poised for destruction if old secrets and old horrors were not confronted and examined by those who knew the stories from the earliest nights? Mrs. Winchester was slowly building a realm for herself with wealth and love. The wealth was easy to acquire, so easy in fact that she donated much to the people in her village, and was able to keep up construction on her mansion day and night for many years. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
In the Winchester mansion, the libraries were full of poetry, histories, and the philosophies of cultures unknown to the World. I ought to have shut the door when the first gust came. I might have known there would soon be another, fiercer one. It came now, slamming the door shut, filling the room with the noise of the mountains and with swirls of fog, and dashing another candle to the floor. The light went out, and I stood there—we stood there—lost to each other in the roaring coiling darkness. My heart seemed to stop beating; I had to fetch up my breath with great heaves that covered me with sweat. The door—the door—well, I knew I had been facing it when the candle went. Something white and wraithlike seemed to melt and crumple up before me in the night, and avoiding the spot where it had sunk away I stumbled around it in a wide circle, got the latch in my hand, caught my foot in a scarf or sleeve, trailing loose and invisible, and freed myself with a jerk from this last obstacle. I had the doors open now. As I got into the hall I heard a whimper from the blackness behind me; but I scrambled on to the hall door, dragged it open and bolted out into the night. I slammed the door on that pitiful low whimper, and the fog and wind enveloped me in healing arms. The months had passed. The house became a home. I was gratified to be able to fulfill Mrs. Winchester’s dream of having the land restored to the Winchester family. As time wore on, I grew to love the mansion, to feel that I belonged within its walls. However, items would go missing or get misplaced. You might set your coffee on the table, then go to get something in another room, come back, and discover that your cup had been moved to the draining board. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
The trifling anomalies were to give way to more ominous. I prepared to go back down the stairs. However, before I reached the bottom, the door had swung shut again, all by itself. I hesitated on the stair. I heard something. I felt something, too; it caused the blood to drain from my face. It was not my imagination—heavy footsteps were slowly crossing the hall, in the direction of the stairs. I went into a bedroom and closed the door. Yet, through the closed door I could hear the unseen intruder mounting the stairs, so loud were the footfalls. They were the steps of a heavily built man wearing boots. You could hear the stairs shake with every step he took. The footsteps continued to climb the stairs. I put my ear to the door and listened, hardly knowing what was louder, the thudding of my own heart or the lumbering tread of the phantom boots. At the top of the stairs, they halted. Moments later, they crossed the landing. I caught my breath. My terror was supplanted by the overriding urge to see what was coming. I unlocked the door. However, the landing was deserted, nor was there any sound from any of the other rooms. The house was silent. Whatever had intruded seemed to have left us in peace, if only for the time being. There was an evil presence in this house. Then there was a low whimper followed by moaning. I knew it was not the wind. The moaning grew steadily louder and higher in pitch. There could be no doubt—it was the wailing of a grief-stricken persons. The siege of the Winchester Mansion—the screaming and wailing, the urgent rapping on the windows and doors—continued all through the night. The wailing in particular alerted me to the possibility that it might be a banshee. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
The banshee is a female spirit who attaches herself to families. Her wailing is said to presage the death of a member of the family. Irish mythology paints the bean si, or “fairy woman,” as a beautiful creature with long, flowing hair and eyes reddened from weeping. She is variably dressed in a green or white gown. However, although many claim to have heard her, actual sightings of the elusive creature are rare. The legend runs that she anticipates the violent death of a family member by appearing to wash his blood-stained grave clothes in a river or stream. I only half believed the legend. However, the horrendous events of the night had convinced me that paranormal forces were arrayed against the Winchester family. If they are real, why not the banshee as well? Tuckered out, I fell asleep. Only to be awakened again after a minute or two by a noise that made my flesh crawl. It was the unmistakable sound of the door-to-nowhere opening. I lit a candle, and walk down the hallway. The door-to-nowhere was opened. My heartbeat quickened. The door was wide open. Standing there, shivering, more from fear than from the cold. I put my finger to my lips. I went cautiously to the door to ease it close, lost my footing and fell to my death. As my soul started to rise my body, Mrs. Winchester approached and said, “I am glad you decided to stay with me. I told you, you would love it here.” Afterwards, the chief of police arrested a large number of sorcerers, fortune-tellers, witches and black magicians because they discovered that the blood was drained from my throat in honour of the demons Ashtaroth and Asmodeus. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
The Winchester Mystery House is an extravagant maze of Victorian craftmanship—marvelous, baffling, and eerily eccentric, to say the least. Tour guides must warn people not to stray from the group or they could be lost for hours! Countess questions come to mind as you wander through the mansion—such as, what was Mrs. Winchester thinking when she had a staircase built that descends seven steps and then raises eleven?
There are so many mysteries surrounding this estate and the First Lady of Santa Clara Valley. There were visible acts that were noticed. Dr. Clyde Wayland, her personal physician, revealed that he witnessed Mrs. Winchester acting very strangely. He claimed that Mrs. Winchester floated inches above the floor, and books and other objects fell off nearby shelves.
According to Dr. Wayland, and other witnesses, Mrs. Winchester spoke in different languages, but she had only learned to speak English. Mrs. Winchester also spoke with a deep voice that sounded nothing like her. The voice shouted, “Go away! She is ours!”
Although Dr. Wayland stated that Mrs. Winchester was sane, he believed there was the possibility that there was some demonic force inside of her home, for he saw no reasonable explanation for these events. Mrs. Winchester was also said to have unusual strength at times, which lead him to believe she was possessed.
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Randolph Harris II International Institute 