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Their Unnumberable Sins and their Dubious Redemption
It was a chilly night late November, and I was deep in my thoughts. I had been working all evening in the library, and at last I had some time to rest, and was tired. Completely alone, I came and sat down in an armchair by the hearth. Shivering, I was cold, and rubbing my arms and about to give up when suddenly, there was a roaring sound, and the mahogany logs in the fireplace burst into flame. Glancing wildly about the room, I then heard the sound of my beloved William’s voice, even though he had been taken from me nearly a decade ago. The voice spoke again, seemingly just over my right shoulder. “Look sharp, Sarah,” I heard William say. As I made my way to the front parlor to investigate further, I pondered these things, and began to consider quite strongly that my mind might have played a mental recording of William’s voice. I heard a noise in the front yard and looked out a window to see a graceful family of deer moving down toward the fruit orchard An owl hooted mournfully from somewhere deep in the trees. All was peaceful as it should be. I convinced myself that I must have only awakened from a strangely vivid dream, when, as if in answer to my mental debate and its rational conclusion, I heard William’s voice again, “If you are in any trouble, telegraph to me.” After the chill which had crept through me to the bones was gone, I returned to library and the crackling wood in the fireplace was still burning. At the same time, I heard something clattering in the back of the house. Cautiously I walked to the kitchen and caught a glimpse of a man standing in the shadow near the stove. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
I did my best to quiet the trembling fear that seized me: What if there is an intruder in the house? I opened several of the door to see if anyone was there. Then, suddenly a new terror seized me and sent my heart ponding. When I opened my bedroom door, I saw a man near the balcony. My brain struggled with a hundred different fears. But then, to my complete amazement, I heard the man singing softly, “Thoughts that have been for years sleeping.” “Who are you?” I asked the man. I could not distinguish his face in the dim light. “Who are you?” I repeated, trying to control all inflections of fear in my voice. As the man turned towards me, I was startled to see the face of my husband, William. That is when I collapsed. In the morning when I was awakened, I found myself in my bed. I knew that William’s great love for me had drawn him back to protect me. And I will never forget the glimpse that I received of him or the beautiful sound of his singing. William gave me the greatest gift imaginable: proof that there is life and love from beyond. To help out with the house, I hired a young woman Lovisa Schmidt. Lovisa was a lovely petite girl with a milky white complexion, soulful gray eyes, and long black hair. The young woman quickly learned that I has pangs in my back so she threw herself into her tasks and tried to life the burden from me. Lovisa was a gentle girl who behaved herself impeccably. The servants came to care for Lovisa, but one of them came to care for her too much. Young Calder was very lonesome. He became taken with Lovisa and pursued her. Lovisa, for her part, refused to accept his attentions. She told him that it was not right to pay attention to servants. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Early on the morning of December 20, 1890, Lovisa went to the barn to milk the cows while I had my tea in the library. Calder found her in the barn and demanded that he run away and marry him. Lovisa refused and Calder pilled a revolver on the girl. He shot her through the heart and she fell dead in the barn. He proceeded to turn the gun on himself, but his wound was not serious. Calder Webber was tried and convicted for the murder of Lovisa Schmidt in his first trial. His defense was that he was insane. His mother testified to Calder’s mental instability and childish behavior and related example of his strange behavior. The conviction was later overturned and a second trial was held. At this trial the boy was again convicted, despite testimony about his mental instability. In the end, though, he stoically accepted his fate and died like a man on the gallows. His body was claimed by his mother, who placed it in the back of a wagon she took Calder home where she and her husband laid him to his final rest under an oak tree in their backyard. A sone maker sits at the spot to mark the grave of Calder Webber for all time. Throughout the years, servant had come to believe that the barn was haunted. When Gjord would milk the cows, he often senses another sensed another entity by his side. On one occasion, he turned apprehensively, and was shocked to see Lovisa. She stopped and gazed right directly into his eyes with a soulless expression. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
Daisy was living with me. She had numerous out-of-body experiences and visited the “other side.” While outside of her physical body, my niece Daisy encounter the spirit of Gjord, who had been killed nine months earlier. She conversed with him, as well as with many other spirit beings. Daisy informed me that, my husband, Mr. Winchester and daughter Annie, were present in the mansion. Daisy assured Mrs. me that my infant daughter Annie was an adult now. I shook her head in wonder. “But my little daughter was just a new born when she died.” Daisy smiled and assured me that Annie was all right now: “Cousin Annie is thin, tall, and beautiful; and Uncle William is looking so noble and happy. He says Heaven is perfect harmony and love, and it is a person’s inner life that makes for righteousness and happiness.” With tears streaming down her cheek, I had evidence that I had been making contact with my husband. I had sometimes seen a woman standing on the main staircase and ghostly footsteps. The spirited lady had been know to move tea cups before the eyes of amazed servants. There seemed little doubt that whoever she is, this spectral lady is still very much at home. I spent a great deal of money to accommodate the spirits. I brought in marble, granite, and find hand carved furniture from Europe. However, the spirits were not always happy. One evening, I was learning the parlor to go to bed. I paused a second, then went up to the attic to view my wedding dress. It was kept in a heavy glass case, which would sway on occasion. Even more interesting, my parasol and wedding slippers inside have changed position. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
My home has hosted a plethora of haunts throughout the years. At one time a skeletal handprint appeared, as did orbs of light and footsteps. The front lawn and the fruit orchards are particularly haunted. In the month of July, 1892, the hauntings had become more odious every day. There was the heat and the rain, and decomposed bodies would randomly appear. The fields drank up the blood of thousands of young me and boy. The bodies were at first blackened from the sun and bloated from the gasses building up inside of them: then, after they had deflated—some in violent, horrid explosions when they were touched for removal—they very flesh began to slough off as the farmers tried to drag them away for proper burial, then they would dematerialize as if they were never there. No would could explain their appearance or disappearance, except with a begrudging nod to forces beyond comprehension. This mansion was becoming very restless. There was a haunting melancholy I had never experienced before. The cupboard doors would be closed at night and mysteriously be opened in the morning; clothing and jewelry would be moved and rearranged; books from the library would disappear and turn up in strange places. The unexplainable events continued. They must grow as weary now, as they did in life, of the fear, the never-ending stress of being timelessly and forever at war. Scatter flesh and bone and blood in my home, as their souls have been ripped from their mortal bodies, until like the primordial creatures, those who remained limped off to find solace and sustenance around their fires, to rest, to try and ponder their horrible deeds, their unnumberable sins, and their dubious redemption. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
O ADONAY, most strong and powerful God, grant that these stones may stretch this skin, and do Thou remove from them all illusion, so that by Thy power they may possess the virtue which we desire. Feed and grow in powers as the consciousness of the sorcerer expands. JE, AGLA, HEU, HE EMMANUEL, by ye guardians of this parchment or skin, so that no phantoms may possess it. Spirits of the Winchester Mansion, I awaken the powers of darkness which dwell within you by the power of the blood of the three headed Dragon Zohak that you may serve to empower our great work! Through serving the greater cause of dark magick which break the shackles that bind the Blacked Fire of Spirit, may you be uplifted and liberated! Awaken and empower the forbidden rites of Angra Mainyu! Awaken to empower my great work of counter creation as an Apostle of the Lord of Darkness eternal and as a warrior of the Path of spiritual energy. Through the gateway of blood, spirit, mind, and body receive life from the deepest depths of Arezura, in the name of Zohak, and by the power of Angra Mainyu it is done! King of Darkness, bring mountains to the plains of our lives as obstacles overcome. Breed achievement. Bring beast to the field of our existence that we may grow cunning and might. Make this breed victory. I DO conjure thee, O Spirit Agares and the 31 Legions of Spirits under your government. Thee I invoke, the Bornless one. Thee, that didst create the Earth and the Heavens: Thee, that did create the Night and the Day. Thee, that didst create the Darkness and the Light. Thou art Osorronophris: Whom no man has seen at anytime. Hear Thou Me, for I am the Angel of Paphro Osorronophris: that is Thy True Name, handed down to the Prophets of Ishrael. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
It appears that humans are not the only spirits trapped in time, forced by Whomever controls such things to toil endlessly and anon, walking roads they have walked before and inhabiting, seemingly forever, places where they have suffered. Other entities too, are caught in the cruel circular labyrinth that brings them back again to the places where they have lived. On occasion, visitors claim that they hear sobs coming from the vicinity of the statues of Hebe and Demeter. When they investigate, they find no one crying, but the ghostly sobs continue. Some think it is because the two Greek Goddesses can no longer see each other and are lonely. Legend has it is that the statues used to step down off their pedestals and walk around the grounds at midnight on New Year’s Eve to inspect the estate, but one night they did not returned on their own. When the caretakers found them, they placed them back on opposite pedestals are punishment. Others say it is so they can watch each other’s back. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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Stare Eerily into the Glowing Darkness
Mr. Hansen was appalled to see the treasures coming through the front door: a German chandelier of sliver and Murano glass, silver candlesticks, enameled chests, coffered beds fitted with blue velvet curtains, carpets from Persia, and a splendid harpsicord with a double keyboard and a long triangular case. It was pained with galloping satyrs and nymphs, under a mellow glaze, in ocher, gold, and blue. Thanksgiving Day, Plymouth Rock, pictures of Pilgrims heading for worship with guns and dogs at their side. I was brimming with excitement. Only something was very wrong in this spectacular house. It became labyrinthine, and impossible to comprehend as one wholesome dwelling. Walls rose up like cliffs, floors tilted. There was a giant mahogany grandfather clock in the living room, and six-hundred rooms. I sat back on the sofa, and I felt myself drifting, dangerously close to losing consciousness. What did I envision? Something was changing in me, completely. My mind sought to grasp the sum total of all the spirits had revealed to me. And finally, I lost consciousness. I was taken out of my body. For several hours I was with my daughter in the spirit World. Here, I saw many angels and spirit beings. At first, I became very nervous, but precious Annie smiled up at me and relaxed me. Leaning tenderly forward, I kissed her on the forehead; but soon I was in the flesh again. She was gone, and the light was gone with her. I was elated and saddened all at once. My baby girl. Confused and experiencing a vague feeling of guilt, I started crying. Crying exactly as if I were a small girl, and I did not care. I was wounded. What could be expected? #RandolphHarris 1 of 5
I stood alone on the edge of the vast empty room, the exchange made its full impression upon me, and slowly, I approached the stairs. Then there was a knock at the door. When I answered it, I found no one there. In a few minutes, the sound was heard again. Again, I opened the door and became hysterical at the sight of a ghostly figure. Mr. Hansen rapidly approached me. “Mrs. Winchester,” he said, “are you feeling well?” “All is fine. I simply have a headache,” I replied. When he left, I went up to my room, threw myself on the bed, and went to sleep rather quickly. How long I slept I do not know, but I woke again with that indescribable yet well-known sense of not being alone. The feeling was scarcely less terrible in the daylight than it had been in the darkness. With the same sudden effort as before, I sat up in the bed. There was the figure at the open bureau, but I could not see it so distinctly. I rose from gently as I could from the bed, and approached it, after the first physical terror. I am not a coward. Just as I got near enough to see the papers on the bureau, there was a barefoot man with rags wrapped around his bleeding feet and legs. He looked dead. The man was staring eerily at the papers on my bureau, but now he appeared merely as an ill-defined, fuzzy outline of a man. It was obviously a man because of his large size, and he appeared to be wearing a Civil War fashion forage hat. As I started toward him, the figure simply vanished, fading like a wisp into the eerie Otherworldliness. As I got close to the bureau to see what papers he had been fondling, the temperature dropped at least 25 degrees. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5
The account book was open, and there were crimson finger prints of the ledger. Elsa tapped on the door. “Come in,” I said. “Mrs. Winchester,” she said with great confusion; “it is freezing cold in here.” “Forgive me, Elsa,” I added, “but I want to tell you something.” She looked shocked. “It is very sad, Elsa,” I said; “but I do not see any good reason for you to be coming to my chambers at the moment.” “It’s a real treat to see your pleasant face, Mrs. Winchester,” Elsa replied. The dear had given a special charm and brightness to my existence. Simple duties, rare and simple pleasures, filled up the sum of my life. When I went down stairs, the sky was a deep rose color, and the clouds streaking through it were gold. There were the faint distant cries of geese in the air, and nearby the lowing of cows. A rooster crowed, and the breeze carried with it the fragrance of incense and wax. The Winchester was in its glory. A light frost whitened the broad sweep of grass in front of the house to a semicircle of grand old cypress trees and palms. From the music room at the southern end of the wing, to the heavily framed gothic windows of the old rooms on the north, there shone one blaze of light. The scene reminded of some curious palace in a German legend; and I half expected to see the lights face out all in a moment, and my home wrapped in a sudden darkness. There was coffee to be sent; and I doubted if the still-room maid would manage matters properly. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5
“You only have to use the annunciator, Mrs. Winchester, and I will attend to you,” said Marjorum. “You are very kind,” I said, “but I assure you, I do not require your held. There run along, and I will see after my coffee.” She put her arms round me, and kissed me affectionately. I was content with the knowledge that I was being well cared for. How good it made me feel. Elsa brough the coffee down. Several friends were visiting. Of course, the wanted a tour of the mansion. We walked around for a little while. The sun had set by the time we were ending the tour. They ladies seemed to have some apprehension about touring the rest of the mansion. They had prior knowledge of the hauntings and were becoming engulfed in the mortal terror of sudden death. As we approached the famous door on the second floor that lacked a balcony, they saw, silhouetted in what little light there was left, was a man seen in officer’s clothes, but his face was melted and badly burned. For a few minutes, we stood by the door, statue-like, staring blankly at the man. “Why, what is that, Mrs. Winchester?” Susanna exclaimed; “and looking as pale as a ghost, I get see its ghastly face, even by this light!” Susanna looked deeply concerned. Audrey, however, fancied that the figure was real, even though she was an unbeliever in ghostly things. Her lips were dry and it seemed that her voice was gone. “Audrey, are you feel ill?” I asked. “I am not ill; I’ve been startled, that’s all; and I would like an explanation of the business that has frightened me?” she said. “As you know, my family has not been altogether a lucky one, in spite of its wealth and prosperity.” I replied. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5
It was so suddenly, as we were exiting the room, intense, so ominous, so cold that the two of the went running back to the morning room nearly frightened to death. Audrey felt someone grab her ankle as she was fleeing down the stairs. The carpenters also had strange experiences. Most with phantom footsteps, apparitions, objects moving, and doors opening and closing. It sounded like a normal day to Merrill. He was working on the broiler and heard a banging. It sounded like someone had picked up a wrench and was pounding on the wall. Merrill grabbed a tool and pounded back. He figured that someone else was working on the other wise and was just say hello. It was nice to know that he was not down there all by himself, so when the man on the other side banged again, Merrill obliged and banged back. The sound rang out in the darkness and seemed to disturb the very air. When the pounding started again, Merrill got annoyed. Why was this fellow banging instead of getting work done? Merrill did not want to be down there any longer than necessary so he decided to go around to the other side of the broiler and see who it was. Merrill walked around to the other side of the broiler and froze. On the other side was a man in a chief petty officer’s uniform. Merrill stared in horror at the man’s badly burned face. It looked almost melted to him. As he watched, the man simply faded away. As soon as the apparition was gone, Merrill bolted for the doorway and the floor above. Badly shaken he was found by other carpenters, and told his horrifying tale. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5
The Winchester Mystery House
There are shadow beings and spirit parasites that inhabit unseen areas at the edge of our material World who take delight in assuming control over humans, or even in entering and taking possession of a physical body. Caution must be taken even when one is led to believe that they are interacting with a departed family member or a dear friend.
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Elusive Crossover from One World to the Next
Handsome he was, majestic even, as everyone said, and full of that smoldering power as only performers of magic possessed, long years ago. Oh, it was such a pain to lose him. It seemed of consequence of the entire Earth. Across the table, I reached for my lemonade with a shaking hand and took a sip. Reminiscing acquired a thirst. When I saw Elsa looking at me, I offered a weak smile before abruptly averting my eyes, and turning my attention back on the gardens. My heart was growing heavier and heavier. The night waned, the tone on the estate was quite strange. I pondered hard on the possibilities—and ramifications—of returning to the past. Some shrugged it off as impossible, since time, as we know it is a continuum and there is no going back…or forward, for that matter. Some say that all time is contained in the past and there is literally no future. Others bode ominously that even our merest presence in the past would disrupt the continuum and set up an entirely new future—where we live now—and change things so that the present is not what it is, perhaps even leading to the possibility that the time traveler in the past might never have been born! Still others claimed that time travel had already been accomplished and proven by sounds of physical laws. Although we are recognized for these magnificent rifles, the Winchester Arms Company also produced household and sporting goods. We had a product line that touched virtually every aspect of American life. Over 6,300 Winchester franchise stores were in existence. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
Ordering products through the Winchester mail-order catalog was extremely popular. We manufactured double-raw ball bearings, safety razors, fishing tackle, and a line of tools: hammers, planes, saws, wrenches, flashlights, batteries, ice boxed, locks, scissors, cutlery, tong, meat grinders, paint and varnish, pots and pans—even footballs and bicycles! However, there was also a secret business that the Winchester Arms Company was involved in. Deep in my mansion, we had a super-secret facility which we conducted experiments using rare metals spinning at tremendous speeds in opposite directions. The result was the creation of a field—a torsion field—within whose influence strange things occurred. One thing was the rapid disintegration of life forms within the field’s influence. We experimented mostly with plants. The result, if the torsion field was strong enough, was the disruption or bending of space. And, because of the space-time continuum—a well known and accepted inviolable connection between space and time—if space is bent or distorted, so is time. A slowing or stoppage of time is the result. This whirlpool or vortex is evidence of paranormal energy. The vortex is a tap or connection into time. This paranormal energy not only gave us a vision of the past, but it allowed us to freeze time. That is why the carpenters were able to make this mansion mushroom from an eighteen-room farmhouse into a hundred room Grand Queen Anne Victorian Mansion in the first six months. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Of course, everything has consequences. One night, I stood on the front porch of my house to watch the stars in the sky. As I was gazing at the Heavens, I suddenly got a strange feeling, a feeling that I was in another space, another time. It was almost like I was in the wrong place. There were couples all over the veranda, talking directly to each other, four or five couples. The women were wearing trousers and so were the men. They looked very peculiar. The vision did not last more than a minute, but long enough to see them chattering, laughing, and walking around my home as if it was some sort of circus or museum. The entire scene vanished before my eyes. I paused to collect my thoughts and gather in my emotions. I could feel William’s energy with me. I felt him right next to me. His energy was here, in our very home. It was mid-August of 1890. The housemaid Elsa was doing chores when she noticed a tall man with a long beard and mustache sitting on a bench in the front yard. The man seemed sad, but paid no attention to Elsa. At first Elsa did not think for a moment that this man was anything other than a mortal. However, when she pointed him out to Mr. Hansen, things began to get strange. Mr. Hansen could not see the man despite the fact that he was obvious to Elsa. Elsa looked at Mr. Hanen and then looked back at the man but he vanished. Now she was beginning to wonder if she had imagined him. Elsa mumbled something and went back to work. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
Later that day Elsa was walking down the road past a neighbor’s home when she spotted the man again. He was standing near a hired hand working in a field. No one seemed to pay the man any attention. In fact, no one even seemed aware of his presence. While Elsa watched, the man walked away into the fruit orchard, but he did not cause any disturbance. Elsa still clung to the idea what he might be an optical illusion based on where she stood. She convinced herself that she had seen the man again, and this time she would see that he was flesh and blood. Elsa was destined to meet the man again, but this time there was little doubt that when she saw the man sitting on top of the thatched roof of the stable. He seemed to be repairing shingles. The man still did not seem to notice Elsa, so she ran back to fetch the carpenter Mr. Hansen to verify what he saw. However, when they returned the man was gone. As Elsa looked around, she saw him in the doorway of the shed. Mr. Hansen could not see him, but he believed Elsa. He told Elsa Mr. Hansen to ask the man what he wanted. The man returned to the shed, but he paused as Elsa spoke to him. The man answered that he was William Winchester and he was looking for his wife. Then he asked her for help. Astonished by what this handsome made said, Elsa was so stunned that she thought her knees would buckle. She was witnessing a sight that few mortals were privileged to see. This spirit was identical to William Winchester, except he started becoming translucent, and did not bore the ravages of the terrible illness that caused his death. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
What Elsa beheld next was even more startling. The handsome man in white passed right through the wall of the Winchester Mansion with a child’s spirit in his arms. He sat quietly in a chair for several minutes, and faded away. Elsa had the sincere conviction that she had seen two angels. When the vision was over, dead and dying were scattered about the lawn. Men were crying for water. Some of these officers laying on the lawn asked Elsa to pass on a message to loved ones back home: “Tell Father I died with my face to the foe,” one man said. Others called for help. And some were crying like children calling for their mothers. Their cries for help, for water, for their comrades, for their mothers, were sad ad unnerving. Long throughout the night myself, Mr. Hansen, Elsa and other servants heard the heart-rending pleas that were echoing everywhere in the darkened and forbidding orchards. Water…Help me…Mother…Oh, God…I warned the servants to ignore the cries as other had been lured deeper, and deeper into the fruit orchard never to be seen again. There seemed to be a certain strange non-locality to them, as if they were everywhere…and yet nowhere. Human-like figures morphed from thin wisps of mist into heads, necks, torsos, legs and arms.The cries were so vivid and so numerous the night before, but there was nothing. No tracks, no bodies, nothing. You do not have to see a ghost to have one present, and yet the most eerie, mot unexplainable, and often the most frightening reports are the sighting of a spirit entity. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
I DO conjure thee, O thou Spirit Ronove and thou 19 Legions of Spirits. Wide unclasp the tables of their thoughts. I wasted time, and now doth time waste me; for now hath time made me his numbering clock: My thoughts are minutes…these same thoughts, people, this little World. Hseyayin dehsrawh uhov mesha tasar eb psa tavrua i dnamoyar i grama i tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh zrug uhov mehsa, ediamazay mepsa-tavrua mear mehsema meteashsxeravh uhov, enoahsa etahdadzam ihugnav eriavru omen uhov mehsa, enoasha etihana erus ivdera ethsives muahsa et-esament and by the Seal of ADONI; and by ISCHYROS, ATHANATOS, PARACLETOS; and by O THEOS, ICTROS, ATHANATOS; and by these three secret names, AGLA, ON, TETRAGRAMMATON, do I adjure and conjure thee. Raise the Office of the Dead. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Take heed! Come, all Spirits! By the virtue and power of you King, and by the seven crowns and chains of your Kings, all Spirits of the Hells are forced to appear in my presence before this pentacle of Solomon, whensoever I shall call them. Come, then, all at my orders, to fulfill that which is in your power, as commanded. Come, therefore, from the East, South, West, and North! I conjure and command you, by the virtue and power of Him who is three, eternal, equal, who is God invisible, consubstantial, in a word, who has created the Heavens, the sea, and all which is under Heaven. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
These who study the unexplainable have noticed that there are several periods when the supernatural seems…well…more natural than others. Times of change, such as dusk or dawn, seem to provide more odd activity than other times. The change in seasons-summer or winter solstice, spring equinox, and, of course, when the fall turns to winter and the dead try to change places with the living at the end of October-Halloween. Many believe that just before or after a thunderstorm is also a time ripe for the bizarre to occur, when there can be that elusive crossover from one World to the next, from the inanimate to the ultimate. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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The Body is the Sheath of the Soul
Upon thinking things over, I was pretty sure that the parlor maid, Elsa, was far too sensible and hard-boiled a young woman to risk tampering with poisons. She has a hard head and would take care of herself. Ersula, on the other hand was made of more dangerous stuff—unbalanced, carried away by impulse and definitely neurotic. The only reason she was even employed on my staff was because of my friendship with her mother. I had coffee on the terrace. I wish I could remember better how Ersula looked and acted. She did not seem excited in any way. Quiet and rather sad was my impression. What a devil that woman was! For it was a devilish thing to do—to poison a man in cold blood. If there had been a revolver about and she had caught it up and shot him—well, that might have been understandable. However, this was cold, deliberate, vindictive poisoning…and so clam and collected. She got up and said, in the most natural way possible, that she would take his coffee to him. And yet she knew—she must have known—that by now she would find him dead. Calder had only been employed for three weeks as a carpenter. Ersula had her eyes on him and believed that she had fixed him, but when she found out that he had eyes for Elsa, this threw her into a rage so terrible. I was just making an excuse to go after him when he came running up the stairs. His face was blue. He gasped out, “We must get a doctor—quick—Mrs. Winchester.” I sprang up. “Is he ill—dying?” We had forgotten Elsa for a minute. But she let out a sudden cry. It was like the wail of a banshee. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
She cried, “Dead? Dead…” And then she ran. I did not know anyone could move like that—like a deer, like a stricken thing, and like an avenging fury too. Ersula wanted desperately to talk to me. To talk to someone. And then again, there was a hostility I perceived in her, a rather generalized hostility, as if the woman were superhuman and bristled with something instinctively alien to other human beings. Oh, I know that sound farfetched. Of course, she is not superhuman. However, if we think of these psychic powers we possess, then we can begin to think of the supernatural as not so unreal. I felt her differentness, so to speak. The dying of Calder also apparently left something precious behind as well. His soul. A few nights after his death, I was awakened by the familiar chime of a clock. It surprised me because, although I kept a clock in the Daisy Bedroom, I had never heard it chime before. A week went by. Then, once again, in the middle of the night, the clock chimed. Confused as to why the clock did not chime during the day on the hour, I resolved to investigate the next morning. However, with several businesses to run, and an estate to care for, by the time I awoke, the matter had slipped my mind. One even, I was having supper. Suddenly, and unexpectedly, through the hall and into the dining room echoed the rhythmic, melodious tones: dingdongdingdong…dingdongdingdong. Just below the mantlepiece in the Daisy Bedroom upon which the clock rested was a crawl space under the floor. It was a harmless relic of architectural expedience, and with the uneven, packed earther floors, it was also an excellent concealer of buried secrets. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
Some areas of the house could be very scary, and the crawl spaces between the floor was a place I never entered. Mr. Hansen went down into the crawl space underneath the Daisy Bedroom. I had not said anything to him, and he came up and said, “Mrs. Winchester, it is very cold down there. It’s a strange feeling. Very cold, and it’s a hot day.” I proceeded to say, “well, I think that is the old section of the house and something may have been there decades about.” He came up quite alarmed at what was going on down there. I never go in there. Another curious addition to the crawl space is a series of large, ancient, wooden shelves. It looks as if there were bunks, as if servant lay there. The bunks are curved as if to hold human bodies. I had no idea how hold the shelves were in the crawl space, or if it was actually a concealed floor of the mansion. Mr. Hansen said it looked as if the wood had been dug into or clawed at. The clock that rested on the mantle was made in the state of New York, and the last time I visited New York, I stopped by the manufacturer of the clock. I spoke to the owner of the company. He said he remembered me well for I had requested such a clock of admirable beauty. I asked him why the clock was chiming at unusual hours. He explained to me that they have no mechanism to make chiming clocks. And there is not a chiming mechanism if you look at the clock. There is nothing there! I began to keep track of when the chimes were heard. The clock chimed on April 18, 1898. The next time it chimed again was on April 18, 1899. At least four other people beside me heard it. When I was away, they still recorded on the calendar for me when it chimed. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
However, it was not all at the same time. In fact, my niece Ms. Daisy heard it. Actually, she would not say anymore. I asked her how loud was the clock? Is it lough enough to hear in the entire house? “Oh, yes, Aunt Sarah. You can her it upstairs on the fourth floor.” “Could there have been a mistake as to where the chiming was coming from? Perhaps through the wall from a clock somewhere else in the house?” I asked. Her answer, “Oh yes. You can even hear it in the observation tower.” That evening, a cloud-like vapor took on human shape, clapped its hands in joy, and passed upward through the ceiling in the company of an angel. I was always aware that my mansion was a conduit-a vortex, if you will. There are horrors beyond horrors, and this was one of those nuclei of all our deepest, most awful nightmare, a place where they would suddenly become nightmares. My fortune, a blessing, it was, but was also accursed and unhappy. Death, like the unbidden and unwanted relative, often times outstayed his welcome everywhere on this estate. At night, ghosts are not always seen, but heard. On many occasions, the servants have heard what sounds like a man whispering. The whisper is not loud enough to make out the words, but there is no doubt that someone is speaking. The whispers seem to be drifting down the chimney, of course, but there is no one there. A woman’s laugh can also be heard coming from the chimneys. I awoke one night and saw a woman standing there—only about two feet away from my bed—and I knew it was her. It was just a feeling, I knew I was her. She had long dark hair; she was really thin and has a shawl over her shoulders. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
And a bright margin of light revealed that she was accompanied by a tall, dark-haired man, with deep-set eyes peering out at me from a very white face. He wore a robe of brown patterned silk, with the customary yellow bade on it. His high cheekbones appeared to be polished, so tight with his skin. After I gestured to get out of bed. The man and the woman vanished. It took me a moment but I slowly began to understand that those were not real human beings that confronted me, but rather inhabitants of the World as yet unknown to us. I had seen spirits before, and, for better or worse, was familiar with their shape, their demeanor, their “being.” I was not frightened. As I got out of bed, and was leaving my room, and descending down a brightly lit stairway, I suddenly froze. Standing in the bright illumination stood my husband William. I ran hurriedly down the stairs, brushing past the apparition and out of a door into the garden where I had become unconscious. When I came to and glanced up, I saw a white form advancing, a robed form. I was not able to see the robed figure’s face because it was turned away from me, but I was clearly able to observe its form, as the figure remained for a moment by me. Then it passed swiftly past the boxwood hedges, and glided toward me, but always turning his face in the opposite direction. Just before the passed through the wall and back int the mansion, it paused and left a gold coin on the porch. Then it dawned on me, it was our anniversary. This assurance made me aware that my beloved was with every moment, even in his death. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
Emperor Lucifer, Master of all the revolted Spirits, I entreat thee to favor me in the adjuration which I address to thy minister, LUCIFUGE ROFOCALE, being desirous to make a pack with him. Via temporis, iam clamo ad te via spatti te ubio, aperire..Aperi! Via consurssus, tempos spatium admi ut imperior! I Do invocate, conjure, and command thee, O thou Spirit Marchosian and you 30 Legion of Spirits, to appear and to please show thyself visibly unto me before this Winchester Mansion in fair and comely shape, without any deformity or toutuosity; by the name and in the name IAH and VAU, which Adam heard and spake; and by the name of God, AGLA, which Lot heard and was saved with his family; and by the name IOTH, which Jacob heard from the angel wrestling with him, and was delivered from the hand of Esau his brother; and by the name ANAPHAEXTON which Aaron heard and spake and was made wise. I also beg thee, O Prince Beelzebuth to protect us in our undertaking. O Count Astarto! Be propitious to us, and grant that tonight the great LUCIFUGE may appears to us under a human form, and fresh as the ocean breeze, and that he may accord us, in virtue of the pact which we propose to enter into, all the riches which we need, O grand LUCIFUGE, I pray three to quit they dwelling, wheresoever it may be, and come hither to please speak to me, otherwise will I compel thee by the power of the strong living God, His beloved Son, and the Holy Spirit. Please Obey promptly. By the powers of AGLON, TETRAGRAM, VAYCHEON, SIMULATION, EZPHARES, RETRAGRAMMATON, OLYARAM, IRION, ESYTION, EXISTION, ERYONA, ONERA, ORASYM, MOZM, MESSIAS, SOTER, EMMANUEL, SABOTH, ADONAY Via temporis, iam clamo ad te via spatti te ubio, aperire..Aperi! Via consurssus, tempos spatium admi ut imperior! I conjure thee, Evil and Accursed Serpent TETRAGRAMMATON to appear at my will and pleasure in this place and accomplish my will. Please bring ancient treasures and prosperity. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
We all have odd feelings at times in certain circumstances; certainly no reason to move from a house after we have paid the rent or signed a contract. We are reasonable and logical human beings after all, even when confronted with the unknown, unseen and unexplainable…are we not? It must be simply a quirk that this one column of physical space that extends from the Heaven should remind us that each and every one of us will something ascend into our own oblivion. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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Was She to Sleep in a Haunted House?
In the early hours. Three or four o’clock, the entire World of the undead was in my mansion or so it seemed, all the rooms were filled with spirits talking in whisper to one another. I thought it was so cold inside, it could snow. My confidence was swiftly eroding. I looked down at my thin, bare arms, and there appeared goose bumps. I hurried up the staircase to the Daisy Bedroom, trying to ignore the supernatural gathering. That afternoon, I found that the housemaid Brigitta had prepared a delicious roast with all the trimmings. Yes, it was wonderful to have help around the house. After supper, Brigitta made some coffee and we settled down in the parlor for the delightful business of catching up on each other’s lives. During the course of conversation, Brigitta commented on the attractive new sofa. Talk of the sofa reminded Brigitta of the shadow that she had seen the past two evenings. “Mrs. Winchester,” she said, “the past two nights when I stayed late, I became aware of something kind of wispy floating around me.” Then she laughed, affecting an expression of mock horror. “It’s inconceivable, what you are thinking,” I said. Suddenly Brigitta felt a strange chill shudder through her body. It was as if her disclosure seriously offended the unseen guest in the room. “Mrs. Winchester, what do you mean ‘inconceivable’?” said Brigitta. She experienced a fear of the unknown. I had seen demons in the sky, monsters ready to swoop down and snatch them all up and carry them back to that hideous dungeon cell, demons coming forth from the dark trees that encircled the house, demons hovering at the top of the stairs in the shadows, but I could not let her know that. “Oh, my dear Brigitta, surely you are mistaken. It must have just been a draft or dust. I can assure you of this.” I said. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5
“Yes, for the moment, we can agree to this,” Brigitta said. “Of course, this is reasonable.” All at once she felt surrounded by ugly, malignant hatred. She was stiffened with fear as she realized that whatever it was, she had offend it, and it had decided it would get even with her somehow. Everywhere she walked, she felt surrounded by cold hatred. The next morning at breakfast, everything seemed as it should be. Only Brigitta seemed to be away of a subtle change in my home’s atmosphere. Brigitta left work warly that afternoon. Lights went out early in her home that evening. Sadly, they did not remain that way for very long. The family had been asleep for only a few hours when Brigitta heard her son screaming. As Brigitta enter the room, she was shocked by the chill in the air. Although she could see nothing, she was certain that the evil, shadowy force had been after her son. It took two hours for her to calm her son down. When her son was asleep again, Brigitta decided that she must tell her husband about the shadow being she had seen in the Winchester Mansion. She described something cold, unseen moving around and my home and suspected that it was following her. The next day when Brigitta retuned to my home to work, she could see the emotional turmoil that boiled within the mansion. She kept insisting that she had seen an ugly ghost, day in and day out. “There is something evil and awful in the house, and it has been following me home, Mrs. Winchester.” I replied coldly that neither she nor I saw any shadowy thing moving around the house. Brigitta was confused. She figured that it was really a shadow of guilt moving across her psyche, an attempt to get her to stay home and be a good mother. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5
Suddenly she felt the room’ temperature drop. Warning alarms went off in her brain, and she feared raising her eyes to look around the room. As the deathlike chill permeated the room, an atmosphere of hatred seems to solidify. She knew that something monstrous and evil was in the mansion. There, in front of her, was the shadow that she had first seen a week ago. Both the hands and face of the dark form now appeared lighter, and Brigitta was able to make out features on its face. The thing was grossly emaciated, and yellowish green skin stretched tautly across its high cheekbones. Long fingers that looked like claws. Dark, soulless eyes stared hollowly at her, and the ghastly image curled its lips into a vile sneer. Brigitta’s body began to tremble. At last she was certain she knew what the being intended to do with her. It intended to steal her soul and inhabit her body. Slowly the loathsome form dematerialized before her eyes. The chill lifted from the room. With a sudden jolt of fear, Brigitta ran from the kitchen. A sound from the hallway startled her. “My God, Brigitta, I saw that thing take shape. What was it?” I said. Tears of relief flooded Brigitta’s eyes. I had seen the thing. Now she knew she was not losing her mind. “It’s all so primitive and superstitious, Brigitta,” I said. “It…It wants me, doesn’t it?” Brigitta asked in a voice barely a whisper. “An evil spirit trying to possess you. How could this be?” I asked. “I feel they are looking at us right now,” Brigitta had said. All had fallen silent. The French windows everywhere made her anxious; the black night pressing on the glass made her anxious. The sound of wind moving in the black trees made her anxious. Brigitta wanted to walk outside, see the stars. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5
She went out for a walk along the road, and came upon a stranger who changed her life. The stranger who approached Brigitta was a handsome man with thick dark hair and a mustache. Brigitta quickly saw that the man wore a bloody Confederate soldier’s uniform. The two stared at each other for a second and Brigitta saw the bullet wound just as the soldier grabbed her and dragged her into the shadowy orchard. The Confederate released Brigitta when she promised not to scream, and in sharp whispers he explained his predicament. Brigitta was instantly smitten and promised to not give him up. She made a decision that would change the course of her life—she would help the man. She hid the soldier in one of the rooms in my mansion and attended to him. For two weeks, she had abandoned her family to bring him food and water, and during that time they fell in love. When the soldier was well, and was getting ready to leave, Brigitta was furious. Anger and pain surged through her and she swung at him. Terrible words came from her mouth, she attacked him like a pained animal. The betrayal was devastating and for awhile Brigitta was blinded by her anger. The solider defended himself from her physical attacks. He ducked when she swung, caught her wrists when she tried to claw at him, and tried to stop her. She called him derogatory names. She vowed to destroy them both. In the heat of the moment, the solider gave Brigitta a shove and she fell down the stairs. Did he mean to murder her? We don’t know because what was in his heart. At the bottom of the stairs was Brigitta’s broken body. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5
What was do know was that the war ended in 1866, so by 1898, there would have been no Confederate soldiers wandering in the orchard. During the renovations, we found her Bible in a small walled-up room. In the Bible were the pages from Brigitta’s journal chronicling her lost love and her lonely suffering. I discovered the facts about what happened to Brigitta during a séance. Within moments of asking the spirits, I felt the chill of a being approaching. The window panes began to vibrate with such violence that it seemed as if they would shatter at any moment. The draperies flapped noisily, as though they were flags on a pole, resisting a strong wind, and its ghastly form began to materialize before me. An eerie sepulchral haze surrounded the entity as it moved inexorably toward me. Its bony arms were outstretched, and an almost irresistible force seemed to flow from its yellow-green claws. I could not empty my mind of the thought that if those vicious hand should ever touch me, my very essence would be ripped from me. The being stepped closer, and for one terrible moment I felt myself faltering. My mind began to swirl, and I knew that I was losing my strength to the entity’s demonical power. From far away I could hear its soulless laughter. The sound of that pitiless cackle sent me into another dimension. A place where I could see what had happened to Brigitta. I tapped a source of primeval energy. When the entity was done, it grew smaller and fainter as it moved backward. Eventually its vaguely luminescent quality had vanished, and I was staring at the formless shadow that Brigitta had offended. It hovered in the Blue Séance Room before it evaporated. With only the pale light from the moon, I collapsed. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5
One should be wary of an indiscriminate exploration of the occult or of “ghost hunting” in haunted houses or places. Without proper discipline, study, and discernment, the ill-prepared are liable to interact only with those entities who will seek to deceive and entrap them. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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The Fear Was Terrible
In was December. The air was ripe with the promise of the new year. The estate was full of life and sound. After the years of supernatural violence and denunciation, it seemed the demons had set their sights elsewhere and, for a while, we were at peace. There were, of course, the usual shadows lurking about. As we walked about the gardens, a boy came running out of the orchards. He was in a state of shock, swallowing his words and talking too fast for me us to hear what he was saying. Ms. Daisy managed to calm him and, with great patience, coax out of the terrified child that there had been massacres. That villages lower down the road had been put to the torch. If old men, women, cut down where they stood. Children, too. I turned cold. “Oh, dear Heavens.” We had no ways of knowing if the report was true. True or false, his testimony would spread panic and alarm. Far better to wait until to verify the stories and then decide what action to take. When I arrived at dinner, everyone was in good spirits. Living as we did, to come together to celebrate, with food enough for everyone and in the warmth, my heart wept at the knowledge that in a matter of hours, all this might be lost. So I sat, knowing what I knew and yet having to conceal it. And all the time, I was watching the door, waiting for my niece, Ms. Daisy. Later I learned she had questioned the boy further and was satisfied that she was telling the truth without embellishment. I instructed the servants to be on alert. My head was spinning with so much information. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7
I instituted a search of the house. I sighed as I sat down in my chair. It was a grueling day. It was the middle of winter and the wind howled down the chimneys. Shuddering, I pulled my chair a bit closer to the fireplace. Listening to the domestic sounds from the kitchen made me smile. I was home and warm for the night. Tomorrow’s problems were not yet to be faced, and the warmth of the fire slowly lulled me to sleep. The sound of knocking at my front door startled me awake. The sounds seemed a bit faint, but they were persistent. I hurried to the door, wondering who could be out on such a bitter evening and what emergency would I find on the other side. I flung open the door and at first thought that no one was there, but then I was shocked to see a thin little girl no more than nine or ten years old, standing just before me. She was woefully underdressed for the blustery night. She wore thin shoes, a tattered dress, and a blue shawl that she had pulled tightly around her tiny shoulders. I wondered how the child stayed upright against the wind that buffeted her. The little girl did not wait for me to speak. “Mrs. Winchester, you must come, my mother’s sick bad and she won’t make it through the night without your help. Hurry!” Something about the wispy child and the intensity of her pleas moved me to action. “Some in my child, come in at once,” I said and shut the door. I quickly gathered my coat and scarf, pulled on my gloves and hat, and grabbed up my bag. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7
We moved swiftly to one of the Victorian cottages on my estate. She ushered me into her home. Her mother was one of the housemaids. She was normally a sassy lass, but now she was reduced to a skinny rack of bones. Her body was woefully undernourished and she was indeed extremely ill. Upon closer examination, she was gravely ill. Indeed, the lass would not last through the night without quick intervention—she was suffering from pneumonia. As I tended the fire, I talked to the woman. I told her that she would be all right and that and that my servants were coming with medicine. I also spoke to her about the brave little girl who had come to fetch me. I inquired as to the child’s whereabouts. The ill woman looked at me with honor. “My daughter died a month ago. Her shoes and shawl are there in the little cupboard.” The woman broke off with a sob. I felt compelled to look in the close. Inside hung the little blue shawl that I seen the little girl clutching earlier. Her shoes lay on the shelf. I reached out to feel them and they were dry. It would have been impossible for those articles to have been worn that same night. I tended to the woman for a bit longer. As soon as the servants arrived, I ordered the cottage searched for the child I had seen. No child was found. I was amazed at the power of human love and the lost child who reached beyond the grave to save her mother from death. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7
I returned home. The evening was nearly over, when I noticed a dark shadow to my left. However, when I focused my eyes directly on the spot, I could see nothing. I decided that perhaps my eyes were undoubtedly becoming tired. It was, after all, nearly midnight. A few moments later, I saw the shadow again. This time it crossed directly in front of me, moving toward the sofa. However, once again, when I focused directly on the thing, I saw nothing but the shadows of the dark room. I shrugged, distracted from the heading to bed. “Are you a ghost?” I asked, speaking toward the area in front of the sofa where I had last seen the shadow. There was no response. I went upstairs to bed. By the morning I had forgotten the entire episode with the mysterious shadow. Several moments later, a peculiar sound caused me to raise from my slumber, and I was surprised to see the shadow again. It crossed in from of my bed, then sat on an arm chair. Sometime between two and four in the morning I was awakened by the sound of artillery firing from the fields. It sounded like cannons firing one-at-a-time. I could hear there reloading between the shots. The fire lasted about ten minutes, then faded out, back into some mysterious fold of Time. Frightened, I did not look outside. I work my niece Ms. Daisy in the middle of the night to ask if she heard it. Unfortunately, she had been sound asleep and did not. However, I did not believe the sounds were figments of my imagination. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7
My mansion served as the venue for a most remarkable connection between the dead and the living which seems to spanned the ages. I tried to sleep, but there was another odd noise that echoed across the fields of my estate. Faint at first, the sound was soon recognizable: drumbeats. I finally fell asleep, never understanding the source of the sound. Once again, I was awakened by bone chilling cold, so cold it sent me running from my room. There was an icy apprehension as I ran forward, as if I was running for my life. I came to a new pathway in my mansion and entered it. I felt the sharp coldness of the air, but I knew I had to keep going. The fear was terrible. As I came around a curve, blood ran through the corridor like water. A strange haze formed. The haze was a visage of a young man with brown hair and a moustache, sideburn in front of his left war, with his eyes gazing to the right. Then a woman walked through the streams of blood, she was moving at a fast walk. She had blonde hair and seemed in a hurry. As I moved down the pathway, she vanished, but there, hanging on the wall, was a shriveled, mummified, human arm. The hand was a contorted claw. I was also astonished to see, floating before my eyes, a white, glowing, disembodied arm pull back and vanish into darkness of the room. The pathway severed never-ending abyss of darkness and horrors than any human being could imagine. A strong hand grabbed me by the shoulder and shook me so violently that I passed out. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7
I forced my eyes open once more, and I saw a pair of wooden clogs. I was lying on the fell, which was covered in blood. I struggled to push myself into a sitting position, dragging my legs round from under me, then tried to stand. “Let me help you,” an apparition said. The ghost’s strong hand was under my elbow, guiding me back to a parlor on the second floor. “Here.” I slumped down and leaned forward, elbows on my knees, waiting for the spinning to stop. I looked around the room. Clearly, it was morning. Everything was bathed in a flat, white light. The fire had burned out, leaving a pyramid of soft, gray ash in the grate. “We were concerned when you did not come down to breakfast, Mrs. Winchester. Why are you covered in blood? Have you been injured,” the butler demanded. “No. I slipped and fell in a puddle of blood in the new pathway recently built,” I said. “But Mrs. Winchester, the entire estate is as clean as we left in yester evening.” I frowned, trying to get the sequence of events clear in my mind. I had taken a bath, come back to the room, and enjoyed a cup of tea. Then I heard a cat in the room. As I looked around the room, there was nothing there. Within a short while, the tea cups started dancing about the table. Extended across the table, just inches from me and draped with what looked like some lacy fabric, was a woman’s arm, from the elbow down, the pale fingers eerily entwined in the tea cups. I screamed. The butler came running and saw the phantom limb. “What is it, devil is it Mrs. Winchester?” “There are forces in this house. Such power does not come from the devil. Do you see those books around you? They are full of stories of such persons, called in one place sorcerer, and in another witch, but what has the devil to do with such things? If you have such powers, what can and can they not do?” #RandolphHarris 6 of 7
The butler’s eyes grew large but his face was hard. His hands tightened on the arms of the chair and he cocked his head to the left as he looked the room up and down. I saw the look of fear coming to his face. The housemaid whispered: “She is reading our thoughts, Morgan, she can hide her own thoughts from us.” “Morgan,” Mrs. Winchester said, “what you have witnessed is terrible. I can see spirits. I have powers.” Morgan’s face was transformed from cold suspicion to sudden contempt. “Ah, witch!” he cried. “Why did you not tell me? Your house is full of witches! You are an order of Satan. This house is expanding so quickly because you have the power to stop time.” And then as tears poured down his face, I sobbed. He wrapped his arms around me. “We are all damned,” he said, “and you hide here in this mansion where they can’t burn you! Oh, clever, clever witch in the devil’s house!” “Wicked am I? A witch am I? Stopper of time? I will not have you speak to me in that manner!” Mrs. Winchester moved into the very center of the room and looking up and out the window, it seemed to the blue sky, she cried: “Come now Caim and you 30 Legions of Spirits Infernal! I entreat thee to favor me in the adjuration which I address to thy might minister LUCIFUGE ROFOCALE! Come hither to speak with me.” And at once a great dark shadow appeared in the window, as if the spirit upon whom she had called condensed himself to become small and strong within the room. “Damn you into hell, witch. I shall not be your warlock,” Morgan cried, and as the books began to fall around he, he feld the mansion, and the door slammed front doors shut after him and no one could pry it open ever again, try as they might. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7
Phantom limbs hovering over us, or playfully touching, or roughly shoving us. What could it be that allows the many manifestations of an active, viable, yet impossible World, sometimes seen, more often unseen, that apparently exists right next to us? What aberration in Time or Physics or Mass or Energy reveals to us this other land, usually unheard and invisible, that seems the dwelling place of the dead? https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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And Finally the Spirits Drew Blood
Life-changing, miraculous, beautiful—it has been the scene of serious studies by aspiring intellectuals, of raucous parties filled to the brim with youthful enthusiasm. It was also been the dwelling place of Death. There was a persistent malevolent visitor within the walls of the house, who had an agenda of pursuit and manipulation for evil all of his own. By the time they reached my estate, Hendrick had a fairly good understanding of what the Winchester Mansion was, and he had assured Mr. Hansen that he would keep confidential forever what he was about to read in the files. Henrick loved the idea of the Winchester Mansion, the flashing, sparkling panorama of Santa Clara Valley. However, he grew coldly and unexpectedly calm as he puzzled over the catacombs, and reviewed in his mind all the popular myths he had heard about the apparitions, and this brief interlude of excitement began to fade. “Mrs. Winchester, I have to go on leave,” Hendrick explained. “It’s unavoidable.” How calm his voice sounded as all the color drained out of his face. I insisted that we go at once to a small screened porch off the back of the second story, and there, overlooking a formal garden with miles of green grass and fountains, we could sit down to eat. However, Hendrick insisted that he had to leave at once. Mr. Hansen showed him to the door. The atmosphere began to change. I felt a whisper of fresh air on my face. The floor suddenly veered precipitously upward. Tiny drops of blood began to fall from the ceiling. Rappings shook the walls. Then a large butcher knife appeared and menacingly headed in our direction. When ran into the morning room, and all the chairs therein fell over and danced about noisily. “The spirits are angry,” said Mr. Hansen. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
I felt light-headed, intoxicated by the danger. There were noises, a myriad of them and terror-filled cries of the wounded and dying echoing long and pitifully into the night; disembodied rumblings from artillery, and even more mysterious, unidentifiable rustling in the darkness just behind my shoulder. Several knives and a large glass paperweight were thrown at us by invisible intruders, narrowly missing our heads. “Do angels really lack knowledge of the heart?” I asked Mr. Hansen as I wept. There was the dark melee, horrifying screams in the night. Night was always a time of icy fear and apprehension. It must stem from our most primal subconscious. It can bring sudden death. And sleep, if it should come, steals consciousness, our last warning system and makes us more vulnerable to Earthly creatures who would do us harm. Or to other entities not of this Earth with perhaps the same ambition. Perhaps sleep was the main portal through which ghosts came into our lives. I felt Mr. Hansen’s brown eyes sweep across my face. He shook his head. There was something about the translucent moon that gave me the impression he was made of air or water, rather than blood and bone. I looked at him more closely, scared that he might have slipped away. But he was still there. “I feared you had…” “Not yet,” Mr. Hansen said, reading my mind. Around and around the room an unexplainable jingling went, pausing first in one corner, then at another wall, until the sound was right next to us. Then it became a plopping sound like water dripping. We were being troubled by entities that seemed set upon us by a curse of black magic. Suddenly, a hooded figure appeared and was moving about the house. It appeared to be the image of a man with thinning white hair on the sides, and bald at the top. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
There were secret passageways in the mansion, hidden from view. The tiniest opening in the mahogany walls lead to tunnels, hiding places, a labyrinthine sequence of passageways and caverns. As we entered a secret passageway to escape the ghost, I heard a whole bunch of voices whispering, but I could not understand them. They were all jumbled together. As we walked along the pathway, Mr. Hansen said my name right in my ear, and when I turned to look at him, he was gone. The voice was a demon voice: throaty, hoarse and very mean. It said to me, “Sarah, show yourself to me!” I could not actually pinpoint the exact location the voice had come from. But there was a black, floating swirling mass, about four feet high and three feet wide. It unnerved me so much that I feld the catacombs, and as I came out where the dining room was, something hit the wall with such a force that it knocked down several of the paintings. It looked like there had been an earthquake. And I was about to fall. However, something grabbed the collar of my collar of my shirt, and pulled me back to safety. No apparition could be seen, but the collar of my shirt had been pulled back. It was midnight when I went back to my room in the north wing. I rose early the next morning. Drawing back the curtain, then I saw a dark shadow of a woman entering my home. I could hear the dark figure ascending up their stairs and towards my room. The footsteps and voices got louder. The shadow of the woman appeared in the doorway to the room I was in. It disappeared as quickly as it manifested. I felt a cold wind pass by me, and the curtains closed and billowed as a shadowy figure. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
I decided to stay in my room until I fell asleep. Not only did I lock the door, but I put a chair against the door as an added safety measure from intruders. Late into the night, I was awakened by the loud rattling of the door and the chair. Frighteningly, the sound came from inside the room and not outside the door. It was as if someone was trying to get outside the room, not in. The room was dimly illuminated by a faint, green-glowing light. On the wall hangs a mirror, into which the light casts its luminescence. In a semi-awakened state, I gazed into the mirror and saw the reflected light begin to take the shape of a woman dressed in a beautiful dress. As I continued to stare at the apparition in the mirror, she was suddenly accompanied by a man dressed as a cavalry man, complete with high cavalry boots. How long I had been sitting in bed, I scarcely know; I had been half meditating, half dozing, mixing broken snatches of thought with brief glimpses of dreaming, when I was startled into wakefulness by a sound that was strange to me. As I opened my eyes, the sun risen. I inspected the chair and found that somehow it had been pulled out, away from the door about an inch. I stood transfixed. When suddenly my entire body flew back, and on to the floor. My eyes rolled into the back of my head. Mr. Hansen and Ersula overheard the commotion and burst into the room. “Mrs. Winchester, are you okay, where have you been?!” Ersula demanded as she and Mr. Hansen lifted me off the floor. “You are as pale as a ghost!” he said. “Never mind the sal volatile,” I said at last. “I am not ill; I have been startled, that is all.” Even now, I get the chills thinking about that night. I do believe there was something evil in the house. I have been quite reluctant to tell about the hauntings, for most people just do not want to know the truth about what is out there. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
The spinning in my head slowed and then finally stopped altogether. As the last chime of the clock struck ten, I came downstair to the reception area. I felt my heart expand with the beauty of the same old World but seen through new eyes. Glancing out the skylight, a white winter sun hung low in the sky and it was bright but cold. A bird was singing. My plans for construction where castles in the air, dreams of sliver days. Places where I could spend countless dusks watching the sun sinking down into the Earth. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something move. A flash of blue, perhaps. I could not tell. A shiver crept down my spine. For a moment, I stood motionless. Everyone looked very dead now, very empty. There was no odor yet, but they were dead. The rigidity of Ersula’s face absorbed me. The body of Hendrick on the floor was dry and wrinkled. Not even murmuring melodies to myself of the songs I most liked to play meant anything to me. In my ears, I heard a din as if the imps of Hell were making a horrid music to drive me out of my mind. I whispered to myself to silence it. Shortly after discovering the bodies, I heard muffled voices and noises on the second floor, followed by a sharp crash. I rushed up stairs to find a large painting in the hallway had been flung violently across the hall into a freshly painted wall. The wall had been damaged by the force of the crash. I was terrified to hear the wails of a baby coming from the wall. Petrified, I remained on the second floor with the terrible cries until carpenters began a search and found me. Nearly incoherent when I was taken to my chamber, I told the carpenters about hearing the baby cry. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
Emperor Lucifer, Master and Prince of Rebellious Spirits, as the agent of the strong living God, of His beloved Son, and of the Holy Ghost, and by the power of the Great ADONAY, ELOIM, ARIEL, and JEHOVAM, please appear instantly. I command thee to surrender me the nearest treasure, and I promise thee as a reward the first piece of gold or silver which I touch with my hands on the first day of every month. Such is my demand. Thou shalt purge me with hyssop, O Lord! And I shall be clean: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. I Do invocate and conure thee, O Prince of the Rebellious Spirits; and being with power armed from the SUPREME MAJESTY, I do strongly command thee, by BERALANENSIS, BALDACHIENSIS, PAUMACHIA, and APOLOGIAE SEDES; by the most Powerful Princes, Genii, Liachidae, and Ministers of the Tartarean Abode; and by the Chief Prince of the Seat of Apologia in the Ninth Legion, I do invoke thee, and by invocating conjure thee. And being armed with power from the SUPREME MAJESTY, I do strongly command thee, by Him Who spake and it was done, and unto whom all creatures be obedient. Also I, being made after the image of GOD, endued with power from GOD and created according unto HIS will, do exorcise thee by that most mighty and powerful name of God, EL, strong and wonderful; O thou Emperor Lucifer. And I command thee and Him who spake the Word and His Fiat was accomplished, and by the names of God. Also by the names of AFONAI, EL, ELOHIM, ELOHI, EHYEH, ASHER EHYEH, ZABOTH, ELION, IAH, TETRAGRAMMATON, SHADDAI, LORD GOD MOST HIGH. Come thou peaceably, visibly, and affably, now, and without delay, manifesting that which I shall desire. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
Something awakens you from a fitful sleep. You roll over in your bed and there, right at the foot of it, is a misty shape resembling a human. However, its features are hazy, unclear. The dress it wears is recognizable, but from an era long past, and it is tattered, as if it had spent too much time hanging in a closet, or lying in the damp mustiness of a coffin. The figure is, at first, an object of curiosity, since you immediately assume you are dreaming. However, its tendril-like arms begin to wave, to move towards you—no, to beckon you—and the face twists into the mockery of a smile. Now you begin to panic as you realize-despite your hoping it is not true—that you are fully awake, that this is no dream and there is no explanation for the horrid sight before you, except that it is real, in all its dead splendor. It is well known that, possessions, apparitions, and other supernatural intrusions have occurred what is now known as The Winchester Mystery House.
To Where the Damned Have Howled Away their Hearts
I stumbled back against the hall table, sending a crystal vase of red roses crashing to the floor. Water and glass and torn petals all over the rug. The despair threatened to drown out my own thoughts. Softly, gently, Elsa reached out and covered my hand with hers. Her skin was cold, her touch insubstantial, so light, as if she were barely there. But I was overwhelmed by the understanding implicit in her gesture. Grateful for her care. “Mrs. Winchester, we have been seeing some pretty amazing things here in your fabulous mansion lately,” Elsa said, “some true signs from God. I’m talking angles. I’m talking miracles. I’m talking End of Times. Do you believe?” “That is just the point, my dear Elsa. In believing you, what do I have to lose?” I replied. “I’m here to tell you that everything can change for you. I’m here to take you to a place where you can begin to be the person you might have been…if certain things had not happened. I’m here to tell you…” She broke off. We had reached the library. “What, tell me what?” I said. We were eye to eye and Elsa seemed wrapped in a calm that my fear could not penetrate. The library was dark, lit only by a skylight, and the single open door through which we has passed. It was vast and shadowy filled with books and desks and lamps. It was an important place for me, a place that I surely always had a glorious time in. This sense of elation was familiar. It was like the way one feels after being sick for a spell and suddenly a clearheaded good feeling comes over you, and life seems worth living again. Else sat perfectly still beside me and I could see the light in her eyes. #RandolphHarris 1 of 4
“God loves you,” she said softly, almost dreamily. “I’m here to offer to offer you another way.” I went quiet. I saw all of these things suddenly, tumbling through my mind, and that is when the pounding began. The noise was not very loud at first; it sounded as if someone was knocking on the wall with one’s knuckles. I felt along the walls, but it was the strangest thing. The pounding did not really seem to be coming from the walls at all. I could not really tell where the sounds were originating. When the books and the chairs started to move, Elsa began to scream hysterically that she wanted to leave my home. She was in extreme distress. Her face was ashen, and she appeared about to faint. We watched the chair do a complete flip, then gently return to its upright position. “He’s fighting for you hard. He doesn’t want to let you go,” Elsa said. Unable to explain the source of the commotion and thus unable to provide a source of relief for the traumatized young lady, I suggested she show herself the way out. I could feel myself shaking again. I was not afraid. Every ten minutes or so, the entire mansion would seem to tremble, as if we were experiencing an earthquake. The beautiful decorative frescoes and artwork started to fall and crack. I saw a man standing at the back of the library and I approached him to see why he was trespassing. When I drew near to the fellow, he simply disappeared. The man seemed very real and I had not thought about ghosts until he vanished into thin air. As I opened the door to another room on the third-floor and pressed the button to turn on the light, I was astonished to see a strange young woman, standing before the full-length mirror, admiring herself. #RandolphHarris 2 of 4
Before I could ask her who she was or what she was doing, the stranger ran into the closet next to the mirror. I walked over to the closet to find out who this intruder was and what she wanted. I was breathing rapidly, my body carrying the weight of all this, but my mind felt wondrously clear. Opening the doors and sliding the dresses around on their hangers I found nothing. I felt the urge to cry, to dissolve into a state of weakness. Frantically, I shoved the clothes out of my way, even removing some of them and tossing them on the bed. However, there was no one there, and no visible escape route from the closet. “Why? Why have you come here for me?” I asked. My voice broke. I turned my back on the closet. I felt like I was walking into a wall of blackness. It had been a cold winter and a bone-cracking winter wind came sweeping through the room. Even with a fireplace in this room, I could feel the chill. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something at the window. As I turned on the light, I saw a child’s face, hovering outside the window, peering in at me. The strange thing was that the little boy’s face was blue—the odd, pinkish-blue cast taken on by human skin after it has been exposed too long to cold temperatures. Shocked and frightened at a face levitating in the window three stories off the ground, I ran from the room. In the hallway, the words “Help me,” were scrawled on the wall in blood. #RandolphHarris 3 of 4
It was this, I think, the not knowing, that preyed on my mind. Not knowing what happened to him, how he had died, when he had died. Was I scared? I should have been, certainly. In the hall above, women were screaming, and men were shouting, children were crying. The sound of rook splintering and the clatter of metal on metal. Then the door thudded shut at my back and I was plunged into silence. To where the damned have howled away their hearts. One can only imagine the spirits of the Winchester Mansion, ancient dead descending from their graves to my home, the floating along passageways, emerging in this ghost ship, passing through rock and concrete and wood as they are wont to do, and materializing at times of their own choosing. Rising up from the Earth like water that seems to help draw them. Then, as they appear and disappear, sinking back into the labyrinthine. Death, who washes away this worrisome World, has guided countless souls to my home. By the end of the day, the weather had grown threatening, and the wind became aggressive and unpredictable. Windows and doors have been left open to the cold air all afternoon, and after closing them up tight, I built a fire. Without warning, all the lights in the house went out. I became motionless. A dark entity grabbed me. It twisted me around and forced me toward the floor. Gripped by terror immediately I started to have trouble breathing. I was hyperventilating. And I was convinced that the entity would murder me. I struggled, then the entity suddenly vanished. The violence was disturbing. #RandolphHarris 4 of 4
There are Worlds, access to which we are no longer allowed. Worlds just inches from us, as we stand in our own World. Invisible, they contain not only the present, but the past, and, some say, the future as well. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
There Were Omens from the Beginning
That voice. His voice. How could it be? On the fourth floor, the air plays such tricks, distorts and changes perspective, but I was certain it was William I had heard. “It was you,” I said in disbelief, yet knowing I was right. “It was you I heard.” However, I turned my face away, and took the elevator down stairs. There was Mr. Hansen going on construction plans. “Mr. Hansen?” I said urgently. “Was it you on the fourth floor a few moments ago? Was it? Did you see me? Mr. Hansen, please.” Still he did not answer, and I would have pressed him further, except I was suddenly aware the atmosphere in my mansion had changed. The air was suddenly charged with anticipation, with tension. I took my eyes away from Mr. Hansen for a moment. While we had been talking, everything else had receded, my sight, my hearing, my smell. Now, like the lights coming up in the Grand Ball Room at the end of a concert, the World came back into focus. The white sofa was pristine, but there were empty coffee cups, splashes of spilled coffee and crumbs of cookies, prunes and butter. The noise level had dropped. Like the low growl of the sea, the rumbling of voices was constant but muted. Everyone seemed to be speaking in hushed voices. Hooded and watchful eyes, no laughter now. For the first time since sitting down on the sofa, I felt uncomfortable. Mr. Hansen took the leather chair opposite. But he said nothing. Nothing would come out of his mouth. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7
The carpet in the room had been woven for the room, an immense sea of dark flowers, banded in gold along the walls and the high polished baseboards. Mr. Hansen has never seen a rug made for a room quite like this one. “Why do you not stop clutching that gun and talk to me?” “I can do everything you’ve asked,” said Mr. Hansen. “I’m eager to do it.” Mr. Hansen was powerfully excited to add an apartment of new rooms to the mansion. But he did not let on. The music in his head would not stop. I knew how excited he was as I watched him. I could see it in his breathing and in the warmth in his eyes, which perhaps he did not notice. “What is it you want for all this, besides money? I asked him. Now Mr. Hansen was startled. And there was a dramatic change in his face. Mr. Hansen noticed it, the blood in his cheeks, and the flash in his eyes. “More work,” said Mr. Hansen. “Lot of it. And the finest tools you can buy.” I shook my head. Then I heard, quite distinctly, the stomp of horses’ hooves outside in the street and the rattle of a harness. I figured it must have been another load of construction materials for the drawing room. However, as the far end of the west wing, an altercation broke out. Voices raised, shouting, the sound of a chair being overturned. At first, I assumed it was some kind of childish play. I turned toward the entrance, and at that precise moment the heavy wooden doors were flung open. Two men strode into the hall. “What in God’s name…” Their faces were concealed beneath square iron helmets and the sunlight shined on their unsheathed swords, sending flashed of silver shining around them like sparks. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7
For a moment, nobody spoke. And, just for a moment, I wondered if this was some kind of entertainment. Then a woman screamed and I knew it was not. Panic took hold. I fell against a wall. “Mr. Hansen,” I whispered. A small group of farmers were attempting to drive the intruders from the hall. Some brandished hunting daggers, drawn from their sheaths on their belts. Others grabbed at whatever at rifles. Bullets flew, blades jabbed and sliced through the air, though never connecting. It was an unequal fight for my men were armed. The cry went up to barricade the door. And despite the exhaustions of the long day, despite the fact that it was now evening, I felt suddenly alive. The renovations of the mansion continued. When Mr. Hansen was done with this portion of the expansions, twenty-two rooms with fireplaces had been added. I fulfilled my request and built tunnels in the basement that ran all the way to the fruit orchards so that we could hall the fruit to the basement for storage. A young boy made a home for himself in the tunnels. He was nine years old at the time, when the men were carrying fruit from the orchard to the basement one of them saw a soldier, in a somewhat outdated uniform, standing in the darkened tunnel. “Who’s that man?” asked one of the farmers, surprised and a bit apprehensive to see a stranger in the tunnels. “Oh, he’s all right,” replied the boy who had seen him many times before. Poltergeist most often find their energy center in the psyche of an adolescent, who performs the ghostly effects, both consciously and unconsciously. The adolescent is gifted for the time being with something mysterious. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7
The particular direction of this power is always toward the secret or concealed weakness of the spirit. Something is released from the recesses of the soul. The mysteries of puberty, that trance or dozing of the psyche before it wakes into adult life, is a favorite playground for the poltergeist. Ghosts haunt houses, and poltergeist hunts people. The poltergeist is very often not really a ghost but a cacophony of projected repressions. One sultry summer morning the farmers came to complain to the boy for coming in the basement in the middle of the night and eating a huge portion of the harvest. Of course the boy would never steal anything, and so, when he explained this, the farmers were at a loss to determine just who ate the fruit. Some of the farmers who were working to harvest fruit that summer mentioned to the boy that, in the tunnels some places were unusually cold. As well, they complained to the noy about being awakened in the middle of the night by horses pawing the ground and snorting outside. When they went to the window to see who in the World was out riding after midnight, through the fields, they saw no horses or riders. The boy also counted at least eight times that the farmers had queried him about the Confederate soldier they had seen in the tunnels, in the basement, or standing in the one doorway. The boy said that many sightings and noises went on during the harvest season, but at other times when the tunnels were not in use it was a peaceful place to rest. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7
That evening, I shut myself away in the drawing room. I could hear Helga and Judit, two caretakers, talking behind the closed door. I pressed my ear against the polished room, praying that they would know I was there and they would come in and comfort me. However, they did not. I sat up straight, my heart pounding as my eyes darted around the room. Despite the darkness, I could see there was a woman wearing a long cloak wandering the hallway. She was easy to see because she glowed softly as she walked along. The woman was crying faintly as she searched for something. Fear throbbed in my veins. As she glided up the stairs, she then hanged herself, but the body and the noose disappeared shortly after. “Where are they coming from?” I wondered aloud. A sick feeling began to brew in my stomach.” “Is anyone there?” I cried. “Did you hear that?” Helga asked. “Hear what?” Judit replied. They were still oblivious to my presence. Blood slammed through my veins. I looked down, trying to shake away the horrible vision I had just scene. Just then a porcelain figurine was lifted from the coffee table and began to float through the air and traveled more than twelve feet before in smashed into the wall. After this demonstration of prowess on the part of the spirits, I decided to retire for the evening. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7
But upon entering my bedroom, I found that a heavy bureau has tipped face down on the floor, and a phonograph began orbit around the room. I felt curiously like an intruder in my own home. I paced the corridors, entered many of the other bedchambers and for the most part the doors were closed, and I shut those doors that stood open before making my way to the basement. It had been divided into two sections. On this occasion, I saw a woman at the fireplace in the old section tending food. Quickly I walked to the second basement, which was built in an L shape. It was very dark. I could hear a little girl singing near the tunnel entrance. And there were figures shifting in the dark shadows, as if hiding. Since the caretakers could not hear me, and I was having such a hard time locating them, I figured it would be best to learn to embrace and enjoy the spirits. Feeling unsettled, I walked through the plush gardens. There, under a large tree about a hundred feet away, was a gray, misty figure, seated, resting against the tree. So indistinct were his features that he could not possibly have been real. At a hundred feet or less, anyone with average vision can easily recognize another human being. However, there was something definitely non-human about this human form. I stood there watching him for ten minutes or so, but I was unwilling to examine this apparition more closely to see if it was a fellow traveller in this World, or true ectoplasm. I made my way back to my home with a ticklish feeling on the back of my neck. When I looked behind me, the apparition had vanished. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7
ASTRACHIOS, ASACH, ASARCA, ABEDUMABAL, SLLAT, ANABOTAS, JESUBILIN, SCIOIN, DOMOL, Lord God, who dwellest above the Heavens, whose glance searchest the abyss; please grant us, we pray Thee, the power to conceive in our minds and to execute that which we desire to do, the end of which we will attain by Thy help, O God Almighty, who livest and reignest for ever and ever. I conjure thee, LUCIFER, OUYAR, CHAMERON, ALISEON, MANDOUSIN, PREMY, ORIET, NAYDRUS, ESMONY, EPARINESONT, ESTIOT, DUMOSSONT, DANOCHAR, CASMIEL, HAYRAS, FABELLERONTHON, SODIRNO, PEATHAM, by the great living God, the Sovereign Creator of all things, to appear under a comely human form, without noise and without terror. Emperor Lucifer, please respond in a clear and intelligible voice, point by point, to all that we shall ask thee, falling which, thou shall ask thee, thou shalt be most surely compelled to obedience by the power of the divine ADONAY, ELOIM, ARIEL, JEHOVAM, TAGLA, MATHON, and by the whole hierarch of superior intelligences. I command and I adjure thee, Emperor Lucifer, as the representative of the mighty living God, and by the power of Emanuel, His only Son, who is they master and mine, and by the virtue of His precious blood, which He shed to redeem mankind from thy chains, I command thee to quit thine abode, wheresoever it may be, swearing that I will give three one quarter of an hour alone, if thou dost not straightway come hither and communicate with me in an audible and intelligible voice or, if thy personal presence be impossible, please dispatch me thy Messenger Astarot in a human form. COME, LUCIFER. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7
Many researchers have noted that, in addition to the sadistic attacks directed upon authoritarian figures (parents, older siblings, police officers, clergymen), the individual who serves as the poltergeist’s energy center—the psychic “eye of the storm”—may receive wounds that appear to be the effects of stigmata. The individual may also experience painful swelling of the body, and vile and obscene writing may appear on walls or various personal objects. If we only knew more about the nature of energy, perhaps we would understand its relationship to time. Why do we bind, in our reasoning minds, energy within the boundaries of time? There is no law that says energy must start and stop within the certain bounds of time. That is exists in time should be enough.
That it exists throughout time, in one form or another, sometimes recognizable, sometimes not, could explain why some places seem to have an abundance of psychic energy long after the people associated with that energy have gone. There is one law of physics that might apply—that of thermodynamics—which states that energy is a constant in the Universe, that energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but merely changes form. In a liberal interpretation, it could explain a lot. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/
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Disturbing the Dead is Never a Good Idea
So time passed and did not move at all. Ten years of voices in my head, of memories that were more real, more vivid, than the World outside my window. Ten years of constant construction. All this might suggest that I was very far adrift from reality, that I was incapable of distinguishing true from false. Were there hideous dream coming in the night? Visitations, or more of glowing, late-night specters suddenly visible just outside my bedroom window? Had I really seen blood ooze from behind the walls? It had got quite dark, as if a sudden storm was sweeping up over the sky. Others were near me, but I could not see them. We were standing by the palm trees at the turn of the drive, and as Mr. Hansen came to me, I passed behind the palm trees and, in the darkness, I hurried back to the house. And a queer thing was that as I reached the door the black cloud vanished, and there was the transparent twilight again. In the house everything seemed as usual, and the caretakers were busy about their work; but I could not get it out of my head that a shadow of a cloud had concealed the sun. I paused for breath, and began again. In the hall I stopped at the annunciator to call for help, but unknown forces seemed to answer my call. A mass fog started hovering at the end of the hall, and out of it came a tall thin man with a pocket watch in his vest and black garters on his arms. He was carrying a lantern down the hall toward me. He was extremely pale as if suffering from a high fever. When the phantasm’s eyes met my own, his features appeared quite tranquil and not at all disagreeable, but I could not help being filled with some sort of nameless dread. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7
Suddenly, there came a fierce bombardment of stones against the roof and doors. Fearing an attack by bandits, I ran to grab my revolver, and shouted an alarm. Cautiously looking out into moonlit fields, I saw nothing. No one. Then, as I blinked my unbelieving eyes, the front gate was wrenched from its hinges by an invisible force and tossed high into the air. Venturing out to investigate, my revolver clenched firmly in my hand. A volley of stones was suddenly hurled at me, and I feld back into the mansion. As I slammed and barred the front door behind me, the caretakers shuttered the windows. However, shutters made no difference to the stones. In they came, through glass, through shutters, rolling down the chimney, smashing against the door. Objects in the room began to hurl themselves at me. Candles were blown out. The bars on the doors began to bend under the solid blows of an invisible hammer. A tea cup smashed itself against a wall. Somehow, I managed to survive this night of horror. However, much to my dismay, the stone-throwing spirit had not vanished with the coming dawn and the rooster’s crowing. That day, haystacks in the fields were broken up and the hay tossed into the high branches of trees. As the farmers attempted to go about their farmwork, stones pursued them. This could not be the work of naughty little boys. One of the boys who had been helping put up the hay was struck so hard on the back that he began to cry. This spirit never developed a voice, but was quite proficient at snorting and whistling. It smashed pottery and slammed furniture about the room. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7
One night I was standing on the stairs, talking to a stonemason who told me his tools were being knocked out of his hand while he was working by an invisible demon and others went missing. As we were talking, we both caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure floating down towards us carrying the tools. The farmers has also had sickle blades broken by stones, and several rows of corn had been uprooted. If passion, fear, anger or other emotions must be expended to create a haunting, then it should be no surprise that my mansion was host to its share of ghost. Staff often reported hearing what sounded like heated arguments coming from the Blue Séance Room, and the sweet smell of smoking tobacco, despite no one ever smoked in my home. On December 24, 1896, two men using a key opened the safe in the Grand Ball Room and stole over $1,000,000 in money and bonds were removed from the vault, but the bonds were thrown away and they took what gold and silver they could carry without attracting attention. The sheriff was dumbfounded. However, they soon leaned that two locksmiths, Robert and David Bowles had recently changed the locks, so they were arrested. The two of them lived in the attic of my home. There was not enough evidence to hold the men, so the men were set free. They both contracted yellow fever while in jail, and died a week later. Soon after their deaths, reports began to surface that the staff of the Winchester mansion were being haunted by Robert and David. Loud banging or dragging noises came from the attic and the hallway just outside it. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7
Since the late 1880s, there has been a persistent sight of a young woman, dressed all in white. We believe her name to be Astrid, she was one of my caretakers who fell in love with one of the farmers Baldur. It seems that they used to meet in the greenhouse, and that his family disapproved of her. However, he was certain their love would prevail, and promised he would be with her forever in marriage, eventually. Their meetings continued, her love growing deeper and deeper for him. But even the strength of love has its limits. He finally told her that it would not work out, the problems that they faced were insurmountable, and that he would have to break his promise that they would be together in marriage. They met in the greenhouse one last time. She committed suicide and died in his arms. Now, whenever a promise is broken, there, among the deep green plants, a pale phantasm hovers in the greenhouse. Forever, mourning a broken pledge, forever haunts the Woman in White. Frequently on Easter Sundays, clocks would move about on the mantelpiece in the Hall of Fires and the room would be lit up by a vibrating glow. I had been naturally a fearless child; now I live in a state of chronic fear. Fear of what? I cannot say—and even at the time, I was never able to formulate my terror. It was like some dark undefinable menace, forever stalking my steps, lurking, and threatening; I was conscious of it wherever I went by day, and at night it made sleep impossible, unless a light and caretaker were in the room. However, whatever it was, it was most formidable and pressing when I was returning from my daily walk. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7
During the last few years, and while I waited on the door-step, I could feel it behind me, upon me; and there was any delay in opening of the door I was seized by a choking agony of terror. It did not matter who was with me, for no one could protect me. This species of hauntings lasted seven or eight years, and I was a young lady with long skirts and my hair up before my heart ceased to beat with fear if I stood a minute on the door-step! Then one day, at the very front door, I looked up and saw an officer, dressed in Union blue, tall, gaunt, and apparently a modern re-enactor moving rapidly down the wide open lawn, toward my home. He seemed in a hurry to reach the front doors. I looked away to make sure they were opened, and as I looked back at him, he had completely vanished. I immediately had the front doors sealed so that his soul would rest in my estate. From the day on, the Devil had appeared to me on a number of occasions, the first time offering me a purse of silver. I was lost. Bewilderingly, heart and soul, lost. There was a promise that there was an entire life to be lived if I could only take the chance. I can still recall the sense of possibility that came over me then, a kind of lightness. Every sinew, every muscle, every vein in my body seemed suddenly to vibrate, to be alive. If I could find the courage to speak, people would listen. I took a deep breath and then slowly, steadily exhaled. Finally, I began to talk. I noticed that I could speak in languages that I had never learned. I remember everything about that day. Every tiny detail. The smell and the texture of it, every second before and after the Devil appeared. The purple leaves on the copper beech turning and there was condensation on the inside of the window in the early morning. The fire had been lit for the first time since the previous winter and there was a pleasant smell of pine in the room. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7
I did not hear the knock at the door, but I remember being aware of footsteps on the floors in the hall. Even then, I think I knew. There was something in the quality of the silence that shouted out that this caller was unwelcome. I stopped what I was doing and listened, listened to the silence. Then I heard a voice in the hall. I ran. Sending the door flying back against the wall, I ran down the stairs. From the hall below, a sound that tore through me like a butcher’s knife. Not screaming exactly, more a howling, a wailing, the same word repeated over and over, “Mine, mine, mine.” I was struck on the head by a falling hammer. Laying on the floor unconscious, I awoke, and it was the Devil, he told me that I must live and continue to build my estate and that every coin of silver in his purse represented the years I had to live. If I wanted to see my husband and my darling daughter again, it was an offer I could not refuse. When I awoke, my most valued pieces of furniture were rudely destroyed by the violent and unbidden guest, but there were nearly one hundred silver coins in a purse. I had no visible injuries, nor suffered any terrible mental or emotional pain. But there was a piercing scream, followed by a raucous cacophony of voices filling the room. That night as I lay in bed, I thought about seeing my husband and daughter again. I thought about how I would devote this mansion, not only to the spirits, but also to the spirits of my family. My face was stained with tears. I thought about the pact I had made. I got up, put on my clothes, keeping my revolver in my pocket, and went down the steps of my home, past the two caretakers playing cards in the living room. One of the me got up. “Mrs. Winchester, you want something, a cup of tea maybe?” “I need to walk,” I said. No one stopped me. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7
I went outside and walked around the gardens. I noticed the lay the leaves looked in the trees that were nearest the lamppost. I noticed how the branches of the evergreen trees were gleaming with dew. I studied the tall steep shingled roofs of the house. I looked at the glint of light in the diamond-paned windows. I listened to the sound of grass under my feet, and came to the cupid fountain that was running in spite of the cold, and watched the water erupt from the jet and fall down in an airy white shower into the basin that boiled under the dim light. The air smelled of pine needles and of burning wood. There was a freshness and a cleanness I had not experienced. There was a deliberate beauty. I made my way back to the house slowly. I could not sleep. Then a strange thing occurred, as I drew near the mansion. From within the house, I heard a subtle stirring music. Surely a window was open to the cold for me to hear something of such tenderness, and subtle beauty. I knew it to be a harp. There was the window up ahead, tall and made of leaded glass and opened to the cold. From there the music was coming: a long swelling note, and then a cautious melody. Finally, the music stopped. I glanced up and saw a black shadow jump out the window toward me. I found myself shaken, frightened without reason by the sound of voices crying out in pain and the echoes of sobbing. Looking over to the nine-story observation tower, there was a ghostly guard walking his eternal watch. My home seems to be a place haunted by shadows and furtive ghosts. It seems to have been taken over by spirits. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7
The Winchester Mystery House
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Randolph Harris II International 