I was happy, living quiet sunny days without shadow or event. To my innocent mind, Llanada Villa seemed the soul of goodness and dignity and charm; in all the countryside there was no home that could compare with it. My home was much studied because of its peculiarly composite architecture; an architecture involving Gothic towers resting on a Saxon or Romanesque substructure, whose foundation in turn was of a still earlier order or blend of orders—Roman, and even Druidic or native Cymric, if legends spear truly.  However, when it came to construction plans, to rebel against my decisions, to question my wishes, to doubt my wisdom and righteousness—these were crimes beyond the range of anyone’s wildest thoughts. But I loved my staff dearly. Sometimes I even helped the garden boy to clear away the leaves from the carriage way. Even thought I was a kind person, people accused me of being a witch. The accusers said, “When I heard Sarah Winchester’s name, I thought it was a witch’s name; for of course the correct way to pronounce it is “Sarah Wastwych.” Particularly more dreadful is that what they were calling me was “Sarah Was-the-witch.” And the villagers thought that they had other proofs. Inquisitive individuals claimed to see me walking very fast, and on dark nights carrying a horn lantern. They also said that at midnight, I would glide over the ground. And that I have developed the curious habit of vanishing from the house. It was utterly wicked for people to suspect me of witchcraft. I spent my evenings sewing peacefully in my sewing room, and I ventured to laugh at their stories. People would wait in the dark shadow of some bushes close by the gate, lying all silvery in the moonlight to catch a glimpse of me. They shivered as they lingered in the cold, waiting to see what would happen. Eventually, I sat in silent grief because my heart was wrung with sorrow. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

One villager stopped my servant and said, “You should not have a witch for a mistress. I shall not come to your house again, for I do not care to associate with the servants of a witch.” Then she went away. Had the sun fallen out of the sky, I could hardly have been more dismayed. “I do not believe that Mrs. Winchester is a witch,” she said. “I have never believed it. I will care for her and treat her kindly, and I will watch what happens. And then I shall tell the truth.” That evening, the housemaid knelt on the window seat and watched the dark shadows dancing outside. They saw a tall figure pass by, and a little later a small black object crept out of the bushes and followed it. After a while, the housemaid heard my voice calling angrily for her. Shaking in her shoes, she hid behind the curtains, but I saw her. She was dreadfully afraid of my temper. I made her stand like a culprit before me, and she could not think how to evade my first angry question as to her whereabouts. The housemaid wept and said, “I had gone to find out whether you are a witch.” “You impudent little girl!” I shouted. “What do you mean?” I looked so fierce that she could scarcely bring herself to reply. Making a vast effort, the housemaid said, “Villagers said that you are so cleaver, beautiful, and rich that you must be a witch, Mrs. Winchester. They said only a witch could build a castle such as this.” If I had been any angrier, I would have burst. “How dare you—how dare you?” I said. “You believed such rubbish as that?” “Not quite, Mrs. Winchester,” she sobered. “You see, other servants said the you flew over the gardens every night at midnight on your broomstick. And we watched. We did not see a broomstick, but we saw you floating. So then we thought that you must be a witch.” #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

My colour faded away. “You servants on the grounds at night! You will be killed!” And forgetting my angry, I dashed down the stairs like a young woman and rushed out to the gate, the housemaid after me. And there at the gate stood the cook and the butler, being stalked by shadows. I was so glad to see them safe and sound that anger had no time to return. “Well, I hope that you are satisfied that I am not a witch,” I said. The other servants saw that I knew. I gave a cry of alarm at the sight of all them standing there. They looked at my horn lantern. They were embarrassed when once they had the supreme mortification of hearing me say, “Look, there are the silly servants who though that I was a witch!” The next day was clear and warm. There had been a bitter freeze again right after Christmas day, and several inundating rains, but the weather was now like spring, and the pink and red azaleas were blooming all over the property. The sweet olive had regained all of its beautiful green leaves in the after math of the freeze, and a new bright colour was coming out of the palm trees and evergreens. I took a walk around the garden. All the dead tropical plants had been cleared away, but the new banana trees were already sprining up from the dark freeze-killed stumps, and even the gardenias were coming back, dropping their shriveled brown laves and breaking out in dark glossy new foliage. They bony white crepe myrtle trees were still bare, but that was to be expected. All along the front gate the camellias were covered with dark red blossoms. And the tulip magnolias had only just dropped their great saucerlike bloom; the pavement was littered with their large pink petals. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

The house itself was shining clean and in perfect order. As we traversed half-mile or so through my house, I took occasion to ask the housemaid some question which brought up the topic of ghosts. As we came up to the Grandball Room, there to my horror I saw in the middle of the hallway a middle-aged man in a mackintosh. I could not see his face, but I noticed instantaneously that he was shining a torch onto the hallway itself. The housemaid and I stopped dead in our tracks. We felt a great cold, the coldness of a graveyard. So uncomfortable and nervous did I feel that I was ready to turn around and run, but as we looked at him, the figure turned and disappeared. “Come on,” I said to the housemaid, there is nothing there, and we went on; but later we talked about it and we had both seen the same thing, and she said, “I reckon it was a ghost.” Looking back to that moment, I can scarcely recall just what precise form our new emotions took—just what changed of immediate objective it was that so sharpened our senses of expectancy. We certainly did not mean to face what we feared—yet I will not deny that we may have had a lurking, unconscious wish to spy certain things from some hidden vantage-point. Probably I had not given up my zeal to glimpse apparitions themselves, though there was interposed a new goal in the form of crumpled sketches I had found. I had at once recognized a monstrous square tower figure over Llanada Villa, and took this as a message from the spirits as to what I was to build next. Something about the impressiveness of its rendering, even in these hasty diagrams, made me think that it must for a feature of peculiar importance. Perhaps it embodied architectural marvels as yet unencountered by me. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

Moreover, this tower might form a good present link with the upper World. Or maybe it was a route the spirits wished to use to descend. After the construction of the nine-story tower, some people viewed my home as nothing less than a haunt of fiends and werewolves. It was believed that Llanada Villa was a temple, making it the center of a cult feared phenomena. The place is mentioned in a chronicle as being a substantial wooden priory housing a strange and powerful monastic order and surrounded by extensive gardens which needed no walks to exclude a frightened populace. Of my family before the date that I purchased this land, there is no evil report, but something strange must have happened then. In one chronicle there is a reference to the Winchesters as “cursed by God” in 1881, whilst village legendry had nothing but evil and frantic fear to tell of the mansion that went up on the foundations of the old temple and priory. The fireside tales were of the most grisly description, all the ghastlier because of their frightened reticence and cloudy evasiveness. They represented my ancestors as a race of demons, and hinted whisperingly at their responsibility for the occasional disappearance of villagers through several generations. In 1890, there was a hideous tale of a housemaid, who shortly after her marriage to a farmer was killed by him and his mother, both of the slayers being absolved and blessed by the priest to whom they confessed what they dared not repeat to the World. These myths and ballads, typically as they were of crude superstition, upset me greatly. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

I was much less disturbed by the vaguer tales of wails and howlings in the Observational Tower; and of the floundering, squealing white thing on which one of my horses had trod one night in a lonely field; and of the servant who had gone mad at what he saw in the priory in the full light of day. These things were hackneyed spectral lore. The accounts of vanished servants were less to be dismissed, though not especially significant in view of mediaeval custom. Prying curiosity meant death, and more than one served head had been publicly shewn on the bastions. A few tales were exceedingly picturesque, and made me wish I had learnt more of comparative mythology in my youth. There was, for instance, the belief that a legion of bat-winged devils kept Witches’ Sabbath each night at the mansion—a legion whose sustenance might explain the disproportionate abundance of coarse vegetables harvested in the vast gardens. And, most vivid of all, there was the dramatic epic of the ghouls—the army of obscene which had burst forth from the mansion three years after construction that doomed it to desertion—a ravenous army which has swept all before it and devoured fowl, cats, dogs, hogs, sheep, and even two hapless human beings before its fury was spent. Around that unforgettable army a whole separate cycle of myths revolves, for its it scattered among the estate and brought curses and horrors in its train. Such was the lore that assailed me as I pushed to completion the work of building my home. It must not be imagined for a moment that these tales formed my principal psychology environment. On the other hand, I was constantly praised and encourage by Mr. Hansen and the antiquarians who surrounded and aided me. I enjoyed the great rooms, wainscoted walls, vaulted ceilings, mullioned windows, and broad staircases with pride. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6

The Winchester Mystery House

At The Winchester Mystery House, there have been reports of very ancient ghosts, some of them dating from prehistory. In the winter of 1924, a caretaker noticed there was curious mile long stretch of hallway in the mansion. The area was a place of ritual activity. As he was walking, he suddenly caught sight of a ghost to the north-east, who was travelling the same direction as himself. The ghost came closer to him until the caretake could see him closely. He reported, “To my unutterable horror, I saw a ghost standing beside me. The ghost wore a long loose cloak. His face was turned towards me, but I could not see his features. He seemed to be threatening me with an implement which he waved in his right hand above his head. At this time, being unacquainted with the psychology of ghosts, I was frozen with terror. I ran the whole length of the hallway, desirous of nothing except to put distance between us.” The caretaker was convinced that he had seen some revenant from an earlier age of the World, walking as the ghost had done some thousand years before. In the late 1930s, two young caretakers went to the police after being terrified by a ghost who floated soundlessly beside them in the same hallway.

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Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase.  https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

The land on which Llanada Villa is constructed is naturally cheerful. Sun and sky are bright, and the shade is enough. A spring gurgles; there is firewood at hand from the mahogany tree. However, the thing most people will remember about Llanada Villa is not the enormous lobby and dinning room, nor the elaborately carved mahogany woodwork framing the library, nor the men and women of the estate themselves, with their bright eyes and pale faces. The thing they will remember most is that behind the dark brocade curtains hang so heavily that there is little wonder that this fortress shelters a number of extremely active phantoms. For years, inhabitants of my mansion have claimed to see numerous ghostly reenactments of tragedies that have saturated the psychic ether of the environment. On this night, I lay sleepless in an unfamiliar bed. With a fire a blaze in the fireplace, I lay with my eyes open, thinking of absurd, disjointed things, wondering now why I had not pushed away this trivial bout of anxiety. Instead, I felt utterly alone, crippled by uncertainty and susceptible to fear. Suddenly I was frightened: it seemed to me quite possible that a panic attack might come on. It was a cold night and, of course, apart from the occasional noise from the house settling, very quiet. Then, there was a terrible scream. It seemed to come from downstairs. It was spine-chilling. It crescendoed for some seconds and then stopped suddenly. I can only liken it to the shriek I once heard when a cat was killed by a fox; this was also in the night. I thought to myself, “Somebody’s been killed.” I summoned one of the chambermaids and told of what I heard. She told me that she had heard it several times during her ten years’ service, but it was better to forget it. I still was not satisfied. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5

I walked down the hall towards the stairs. I passed by an old room which was being sealed off from the main house. Suddenly I was aware of a hand and arm stretched out from the room to bar my passage. Being scared, I jumped, and for a moment turned by back to the room. On looking around, I saw a man dressed in dark clothes, walking back to the wall. He was wearing no hat when he reached the wall, and seemed to walk right into it. I could hear no sound of steps, and on close investigation after he disappeared, I could see no man and no hole in the wall. He vanished. I felt him vanish. I felt the warmth and the sudden movement in the air. It was as if something has been sucked away, and the chandeliers swung violently. And suddenly I did not know what I had seen, or what I had felt. My heart was skipping dangerously. I felt another wave of dizziness and continued to move along the wall, silent, as I heard learned to do in many a night. I hugged the wall, so that floor boards would not creak. A gust of cool air fanned my rosy cheek, and I put out a hand and found the edge of an open door. Mr. Hansen had told me a history regarding cupboard in this room. According to what he related, this young woman’s spirt comes out of this cupboard: but I do not fully recollect the matter. Not having the fear of God before his eyes, but being moved and seduced by the instigation of the devil, a farmer feloniously, willfully, and of malice made an assault and with a certain knife value a penny throat of one of the housemaids then and there did cut, of which the housemaid then and there did die, and the body of the housemaid was cast into a certain pond of water situate on this estate. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5

As I was recalling this history of this misfortune, footsteps that came downstairs sounded light and active, like a small, spry man. For an instant of horror, I feared there was no next room. My backward-groping foot could not find a floor to stand on, and only a quick, noiseless grab for the door-jamb kept me from falling. Then my foot stretched lower and touched solid woof. Another stairway here, going down—I painfully descended another step, another. I groped around a turn in the stairs and to a door below tightly closed. For long minutes I waited, hand on latch. I lifted the latch, slipped through, and closed the door behind me. There were noises in the distance. I became certain that I was hearing words in a tribal dialect that I did not understand carried on the wind of the inky winter nights. I knew that somewhere in this corridor resides a secret room in which a monster resides. For generations of servants have sworn that they have heard its shuffling feet and hideous half-human cries as it emerges for its nocturnal prowlings. According to my butler Herr Enderlin, in 1888, the spirits compelled the carpenters to built a ghastly chamber deep within the wall to hide a secret transmitted from the past, which is only know to three persons. When one of the triumvirates dies, the survivors are compelled by a terrible oath to elect a successor. According to legend, because of the family curse, a demon was incarnated. It was a half-human monster, misshapen, and was found to be a grotesque monstrosity, and the brutish creature was hidden away in this secret room. For decades, three people have been selected to care and look after the monsters. I was determined to discover the location of the secret room and view the monster for myself. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5

It was darker here than upstairs. I knelt and touched a cement floor, then a cement wall. There was a big rectangular chamber, with double doors at the far end. These led to an entry from lower ground behind the house. The basement had been furnished with a long bench of dark wood along one wall. There was something of a horrible spirit lurking in the abyss. I felt as petrified as men who stalk deadly beasts through African jungles to photography them or study their habits. Half-paralysed with terror though I was, there was nevertheless fanned within me a blazing flame of awe and curiosity which triumphed in the end. However, I certainly did not mean to face what I feared—yet I will not deny that I may have had a lurking, unconscious wish to spy certain things from a hidden vantage-point. The sub-levels of my home perhaps embodied architectural marvels as yet unencountered by me. I reflected on how in these days, while I was being terrorized by ghosts, some people were having serious difficulties with finances, employee morale, yet we all managed to keep a spirit of camaraderie, of heartiness. Of course, it was the natural consequence of people in Victorian times. One simply could not resist, in such a context, the droll remark, the grateful laugh, the sense of cheerful complicity in even an unfortunate fate. How puzzling the human personality is, I thought, as I was preparing to enter the basement, moving uncharacteristically slowly, when with others there is a public self, alone there is a private self, and yet both are real…Both are experienced as real. A heavy echoing thump startled me. I heard the floor creak as I moved cautiously but purposefully toward the basement stairs. Whatever the lurking horror might be, I believed the direct avenue toward it was now plainly manifest. And yet, when I did venture down the stairs towards the dark basement, my first impression was one of anticlimax. The moon light beam from the skylight upstairs made a halo of radiance at the door. Light must have seeped at once through the cracks, for the shadows, halfway downstairs, paused. My heart was racing and my lip caught in my teeth, I tiptoed to the door and stood next to its hinges. A hand rattled the latch, lifted it. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5

The door was thrown open, screening me from the rest of the cellar. A specter appeared in my own resemblance, and she seemed to be habited in the same clothes and dress which I hath on at the same time. Revolver shots rang in the cellar like a bombardment. As I cleared the door, I darted up the stairs. I tripped on the top one, but kept my feet. Four mighty leaps carried me to the Grand Ball Room. I was taken up by the skirt of my doublet by this female demon, and carried a height into the air. I was soon missed by my servants, and after no news could be heard of me until at length (near half an hour later) I was heard singing and whistling in the fruit orchard where they found me in kind of a trance. I solemnly protested to them that the demon had carried me so high that my house seemed to me to be but as a sand castle, and during all that time I was in perfect sense, and prayed to Almighty God not to suffer the devil to destroy me; and I was then suddenly set down in the fruit orchard. The workmen found one shoe on the side of my house, and the other on the other side, and in the morning espied my hat hanging on the top of a tree; by which it appears I had been carried a considerable height, and that what I am telling is not a fiction. In the month of June, in a pond of water, with the throat cut: a knife belonging to a prisoner was found in that same water, and something dark came up out of the water at the edge of the pond farthest away from him, and so up the bank. And when it got to the top where he could see it plain against the sky, it stood up and flapped the arms up and down, and then run off very swiftly. And inside of Llanada Villa, it was also very noticeable what a silence the servants kept, and further (though this might not be otherwise than natural in that season of the year), what a darkness and obscurity there was in the mansion, lights being brought in not long after two o’ clock in the day, and yet no fog in town. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5

The Winchester Myster House

On November 18, of the year of 2020, caretakers were decorating for the season. Suddenly, one man was startled by knocking sounds coming from behind the largest cupboard door in the house. He thought to himself, “there is someone hiding within, and I would know what she wants.” And with that he gave a sort of cry or a shout and ran out of the house into the dark, and another caretaker felt the cupboard door pushed out against her while she held it, but before she pressed to keep it shut as hard as she could, it was forced out against her, and she had to fall back. What came out? She could not see what it was: it fleeted very swiftly over the floor and out the door. What did it look like? It ran very low, and it was of a dark colour. She was daunted and made all the haste she could after it to the door that stood open. And she looked out, but it was dark and could see nothing. There were no tracks on the floor, but there was a voice heard without the house.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase.  https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

A rush of icy air swept across my skin. Goose bumps rose. Shivering, I blinked, trying to pierce the shifting darkness, a cold dark void with muted spots of blue light shrouded in a rising mist. I was freezing. My insides shivered with a new fear. I suddenly caught sight of a woman wearing a black cape standing in the center of the hallway near the Crystal Bedroom. I immediately stopped advancing down the hallway, thinking it was a vengeful spirit looking for trouble. To my amazement, as I hastily drew near her, the figure simply vanished. I walk through the hall and looked all around, but there was not the slightest sign of anybody, and nowhere where anyone could have gone. I walked toward the library and carried on, and when I drew near my desk, I saw the figure again. This visible spirit had been one of the more ominous ghosts I had ever beheld. I was so used to shadows, interior voices, and even possessions; but to see the seemingly solid form was terrifying. I started to approach her; I saw something walking across the room wearing a grey cloak. Standing in the doorway, I was utterly shattered. This was a little more than I could easily bear. The morning after I saw these apparitions I was in a state of terror, and could not bear to be left alone, daylight though it was. At this moment the unwonted sound of carriage wheels and many hoofs upon the road, arrested my attention. They seemed to be approaching from the high ground overlooking the fruit orchard, and very soon the equipage emerged from that point. The wild gallop of the horses came thundering toward my home with the speed of a hurricane. The excitement of the scene was made more painful by the clear, long-drawn screams of a woman’s voice from the carriage window. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5

We all advanced in curiosity and horror. There appeared unto me the resemblance of an aged gentleman with a pole or staff in his hand, resembling that he was wont to carry when living to kill the moles withal. The spectrum approached near the young man, whom you may imagine not a little surprised at the appearance of one that he knew to be dead. This apparition, of the old man with the pole, was only the harbinger of more extraordinary events. At evening prayers, during the Psalms, the wood in my home seemed to become more chilly than usual. The whispering in my house was more persistent tonight. I seemed not to be rid of it in my room. I have not noticed this before. I was very much troubled in sleep. No definite image presented itself, but I was pursued by the very vivid impression that wet lips were whispering into my ear with great rapidity and emphasis for some time together. After thus, I supposed, I fell asleep, but was awakened with a start by a feeling as if a hand were laid on my shoulder. To my intense alarm I found myself standing at the top of the lowest flight of the first staircase. The moon was shining brightly enough through the large window to let me see that there was an apparition on the second or third step. I could make no comment. I crept up to be again, I do not know how. Yes, mine is a heavy burden. The morning of 26^th of November was cold and tempestuous. At an early hour the servants had occasion to go into the front hall of the residence. What was their horror upon observing the form of the butler, Otto Meckelburg, lying upon the landing of the principal staircase in an attitude which inspired the gravest fears. Assistance was procured, and a universal consternation was experienced upon the discovery that he had been the object of a brutal and murderous attack. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5

The vertebral column was fractured in more than one place. This might have been the result of a fall: it appeared that the stair-carpet was loosed at one point. However, in addition to this, there were injuries inflicted upon the eyes, nose and mouth, as if by the agency of some savage animal, which, dreadful to relate, rendered those features unrecognizable. The vital spark was, it is needless to add, completely extinct, and had been so, upon the testimony of respectable medical authorities, for several hours. The author of authors of this mysterious outrage are alike buried in mystery, and the most active conjecture has hitherto failed to suggest a solution of the melancholy problem afford by this appalling occurrence. I could not overcome my anxiety. The rest of the day—the late afternoon reception, the dinner itself, the after-dinner gathering—passed easily, even routinely, but did not seem to me very real; it was not very convincing. The vision of Llanada Villa kept rising in my mind’s eye. How odd, how very beautiful the experience had been, yet there was no one to whom I might speak about it. The other did not notice my discomfort. In fact they claimed that I was looking well, they were delighted to see me and to shake my hand. Many were old acquaintances, men and women, but primarily women; a number of them wanted to be introduced to me and tour my lovely home. At dinner, though my voice was distracted, I spoke of the usual matters. Thought I had changed into a linen dress of pale blue, my mind kept drifting away from the others, from the new and handsome dark colonial dining room. I smiled at other, and laughed with the others. Though there were people who clearly wished to talk with me, I kept drifting back to the horrible events of earlier, and knew a night of insomnia awaited.  #RandolphHarris 3 of 5

It was a soft clear evening, and I loitered in the garden, speculating upon the possible meanings of the apparitions. Llanada Villa was a marvelous and mystic beauty, and I almost forgot the sinister oppression with which its inhuman age and massiveness had chocked and weighed on my spirit. I had already walked nearly a mile before reaching my favourite tree, and by that time the moon was shining brilliantly. The moon was fully of idyllic and magnetic influence—and when I looked at the windows of Llanada Villa, they flashed and twinkled with that silvery splendour, as if unseen hands had lighted up the rooms to receive guests. Then for a moment, I felt sour fear. Sinister sculptures leered menacingly from the oppressive walls. As the night drew on, the housemaid’s head was thrust into a very strait place betwixt a bed’s head and a wall, and forced by the strength of men to be removed thence, and that not without being much hurt and bruised, so that much blood appeared about it: upon this it was advised that she should be bleeded, to prevent any ill-accident that might come of the bruise; after bleeding, the ligature or binder of her arm was removed from thence and conveyed about her middle, where it was strained with such violence that the girding had almost stopped her breath and killed her, being cut asunder it made a strange and dismal noise, so that the other servants were affrighted by it. At other times, housemaids had been in danger to be strangled with cravats and handkerchiefs that they had worn about their necks, which had been drawn so close that with the sudden violence they had near been choked to death, and hardly escaped death. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5

After a steeply descending walk of about a mile through my home, one could tell there was something abnormal about the whole business—the strange things we had tried so hard to hid. The harpsichord music was something of a comfort, as Mozart always is, with his merriment, no matter what the composition, but nevertheless, I felt restless and unsafe in these warm rooms where I was accustomed to spend many hours in comfort alone. The specter had showed great offense at the periwigs which young male servants used to wear, for they were often torn from their heads after a very strange manner. The male servants would often find their periwigs removed from their boxes and rendered into many small parts and tatters. Hans Bogner, while lying in his chamber with his periwig on his head, to secure it from danger, within a little time it was town from him, and reduced into very small fragments. I felt confusion and guilt. I had to get my mind clear. Walking through the twisting corridors of my mansion, from a pitch-black room there burst the most appalling and demoniac succession of cries that I had ever heard. Not more unutterable could have been the chaos of hellish sound if the pit itself had opened to release the agony of the damned, for in one inconceivable cacophony was centered all the supernatural terror and unnatural despair of animate nature. Human it could not have been—it is not in man to make such sounds—and without a thought, I frantically ran until I was out of breath. Afterward I was not able to shake off the maddening sensation of being haunted and hunted. I had seen a good deal in the last few years, and was prepared to believe and keep silent about many appalling and incredible secrets of Llanada Villa. The black inner World, of whose existence we had not known before. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5

The Winchester Mystery House

Many strange and fantastical things have been done by spirits or demons in The Winchester Mystery House. In 1911, a barrel of salt of considerable quantity had been observed to march from the kitchen to the dining room without any human assistance. As well, an unidentified ghost has been seen entering the mansion, vanishing as she enters the gate, while a figure suspected to be Mrs. Winchester has been seen in the mansion corridors at night, apparently knitting with white-hot needles, seething over the memory of her daughter Annie, who died as an infant. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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A million dollars could change your life, but it could also ruin it, depending on how you get it and what you do with it. Some may ask, “What is the difference whether you have twenty thousand dollars or sixty thousand dollars?” You can buy a few more things, but it is not enough to buy freedom, not enough to change your life. You are either a wage slave or you are not. You have to save and make quantum jumps. Why do we work? To make money. And if you start off with ten thousand dollars, you can save that, buy gold, and before you know it you will have thirty thousand dollars. One of the most important things in life is having a place to live. So, even if you buy a car and think homes are out of your price range, once you start working, just like you start saying for retirement, save up for a house also. As you age, your saving account will grow and you are likely to get married to someone who will also have money saved for a downpayment on a house. With the way the economy is going, some grandparents and parents realize that it is important for them to help their children after they are gone. So, many have life insurance policies and money that they will leave to their children so they do not leave them homeless and alone. Therefore, do not think a house is out of your price range, nor be discouraged about buying a home. Just keep your house and in and may wise decisions in life and choose your mate wisely so they do not burn up all your money and leave you broke and broken. Stay away from drugs and alcohol and practice chastity. #RandolphHarris 1 of 18

Money may spoil some people, but others become sweeter, more joyous and more unselfish. However, many parents’ want their children to work for their money, which is a good idea. Yet, when one has to earn their own money, they are not going to be a soft touch for anybody who needs money. In fact, they may have little patience for others who seem to be immature and/or shifty. And the reality of it is, you may have to work from the time you are 16 to 40 and go to college before you buy your first house. You may even have to choose a new market. There are people out there who own homes, their kids are in public school and their mother is sleeping in the maid’s because prices are going up. To them, they are struggling. The most important thing is life is not the money, but you need to believe in yourself. The woods are deep and dark and full of tigers. Everyone expects to be zillionaires, but the Witch of Wall Street is capricious. That is why it is important to be cautious about Wall Street. You never want to invest all of your money and lose it. European imperialism of the nineteenth century never aimed at World domination. The study of European diplomatic history from the middle of the nineteenth century to the beginning of the First World War shows quite clearly that because of economic interests, and reasons of security and prestige, each power wanted new spheres of interest; that there was intensive competition, intrigues, and secret deals, which would be called subversive today provided the Soviet Union were the culprit; but there was no serious attempt to dominate the World. Even the Kaiser and Mr. Hitler, in spite of their aggressive postures, never dreamed of World domination. #RandolphHarris 2 of 18

Mr. Hitler, in his most expansionist periods, never wanted more than hegemony over Wester Europe and certain territory at the expense of Czechoslovakia, Poland, and Russia. Neither England nor the United States of America was ever included in his dreams of empire. Nazi antisemitism emerged from and built on an existing German culture, which included Chrisitan ideas about Jews people being the enemy of God, about “Jewish magic,” and mystical conspiracies. Such ideas had circulated for a very long time, and for scores of people were part of a deep, unreflected-on structure of thought, basic background knowledge of the World and how it works. As taboo as these associations were after 1945, they outlasted the Third Reich in some form. These ideas were even being transmitted to schoolchildren, much the same way ideas about gender roles are being distorted, causing children to grow up misinformed and confused. Beliefs can take many forms and lurk disguised in contexts that might seem otherwise innocuous. People have known this for decades, even if they no longer said it aloud, it is called social engineering. Politicians sometimes declare war on superstition and witch mania. And there are some terrible cases in which people suspected of being witches have been physicially and mentally mistreated—and not seldom driven to suicide. The number of cases throughout history is serious. However, determinations typically prove to be difficult. Each time officials come upon what looks like “concrete” instances of witch “superstition,” a newspaper reports, they want into “a wall of ice-cold silence.” Or someone blows it off as a “conspiracy theory,” and says there is no evidence to substantiate the claim, and refuses to investigate. #RandolphHarris 3 of 18

Late in 1957, Minister President Kai-Uwe von Hassel directed his interior minister to look into “taking action against so-called ‘devil expellers’ and ‘witch banishers.’” However, there, too, investigators found that the problem resisted scrutiny. “Hardly more than one percent of all such incidents come to the ears of the relevant agencies,” officials estimated. The “preponderance of the superstitious” were afraid “that there might be something to” charges of witchcraft, and so “declined to make a report.” The same reason holds true today why some government employees and police refuse to investigate criminal actions against certain individuals. State officials nonetheless made plans to issue an ordinance to help police “combat witch-doctor non-sense,” and community arbitrators were asked to comb their records for local disputes related to witch scares.” State ministers, police, and health officials had been persuaded that witch fears could have real, even deadly, consequences. Yet their investigations ultimately yielded little more than evidence of persecution’s price. Not least out of a sense of self-preservation, local people refused the impertinent questions of curious outsiders concerning matters of internal, community concern. True enough, Mr. Hitler’s soldiers sang “Morgen Gehort Uns die Ganze Welt” (“Tomorrow the Whole World Will Belong to Us), but that was in the realm of nationalist ideology, no more serious than his “socialist” promises. In spite of his half-madness, Mr. Hitler was sufficiently realistic (and also sufficiently under the control of his industrialist and military “advisers”) to know that World conquest was not feasible even though he may have dreamed about it. #RandolphHarris 4 of 18

Not only did none of the Western imperialist powers aim at World domination, their diplomats were also most eager not to pursue their limited aims beyond a point at which a major war could be provoked. In 1914 this peace strategy collapsed, although it is still open to debate whether the war was really “necessary” or whether it was the result of stupid bungling on all sides. However this may be, imperialism is not the same as a drive for “World domination,” and that, in as much as Russia is the successor of Czarist imperialism, this does not make her into a power that wants to conquer the World. Russia’s conquest of the satellites was a limited big power grab, carried out for economic and security reasons, at a time when Mr. Stalin thought he could get away with it. However, on the whole the Soviet Union has shown no more expansionism than the limited one of the imperialism of the Western powers. The reasons are quite obvious. Russia, being a tremendous territory, needs neither raw materials nor markets. She is in this respect in a position similar to that of the United States of America, which, in spite of some imperialistic actions (Cuba, the Philippines), did not need to conquer new territories. Furthermore, in the nuclear age the leaders of the Soviet Union have even a great deal more reason to avoid a major war than had the statesmen of Europe in the nineteenth century. However, all these considerations remain rather theoretical unless they are borne out by the record of the Soviet Union’s political behaviour. We have already dealt with the postwar conquest of the satellite states. There is a second attempt at expansion of Russia’s sphere of interest, the attack against South Korea. This was originally a Russian-sponsored, not a Chinese, attack and it was probably aimed as much against China as against the United States of America. (A glance at a map shows that strategic importance that Korea has for the Russian position in the Far East.) #RandolphHarris 5 of 18

Mr. Stalin may have been misled by Dean Acheson’s declaration, which omitted Korea from a list of those countries that the United States of America was prepared to defend, and furthermore by the fact of the money allotted to Congress for the defense of Korea hardly any had been spent at the time of the attack. Mr. Stalin miscalculated badly; the United States of America fought back, and the Chinese (as a result of a United States of America miscalculation of the effect of going beyond the 38^th parallel) came into the war and gained self-confidence and prestige by their capacity to contain the Western forces at the old dividing line. No doubt the conquest of the satellites and the Korean War were expansionists, aggressive actions. The same holds true for the incorporation of the Baltic states, parts of Poland and the territorial conquests in Finland in 1940. However, in all these instances, Mr. Stalin was acting from strategic considerations and these conquests of former Czarist territories, while typically imperialist move, were not the first steps to World domination. What about the rest of the Russian record? The Soviet Union, not only did take advantage of the postwar situation in France and Italy, she also did not undertake offensive action, nor try to put governments under her yoke where she could have done so without any great risk. Finland, Austria, Greece, Turkey, Iran, Iraq, Lebanon, Egypt, Cambodia, Laos are examples of Soviet policy that either left the respective countries in the Western Orbit or neutral. This picture is quite in contrast to the current cliché that states that Berlin, Laos, the Congo, and Cuba are signs of Russia’s aggressive wish to dominate the World. #RandolphHarris 6 of 18

The Soviet Union’s policy is strategically speaking a defensive one; she wanted recognition of the Western borders of her sphere of influence (including East Germany), and she wanted to prevent West Germany’s rearmament. The issue of Berlin is used tactically to prod the Western Allies into making concessions with regard to the first two issues, but there was no evidence that the Soviet Union intended to make West Berlin part of the Eastern zone. As far as Laos was concerned, the situation was basically that the Soviet Union wanted a neutralized Laos, and that the Western powers had agreed to a neutral commission to supervise Laos’ neutrality. After a while, the United States of America tried to get Laos into the Western camp, and rejected the neutral commission. When the Soviet Union reacted by supporting the Communist elements in Laos, we protested against the Russian aggression. Apparently the Russians are quite willing to return to the original agreement about the neutralization of Laos. (It must be mentioned that here, as in many other parts of the World, the Russians are competing with the Chinese, and that some of the Russian action had more the purpose of containing the Chinese, than of conquering new territories.) The first big factor our policy-makers ignored was that landlocked Laos is vital to China’s security. Any attempt to transform Laos into an anti-Communist bastion was doomed to failure from the starts. Yet the U.S.A. sought to do this—with the wore possible tools. Our allies, the traditional ruling class, had little interest in reform. The political methods they used—stuffing ballot boxes and intimidating neutralist voters—succeeded only in driving the moderates to the left.  It was the same with the assistance program: The great bulk of it was used to build up a motorized army (in an almost roadless land), whose enlisted men often had to wait for months to draw their pay, while their generals lived in luxury. #RandolphHarris 7 of 18

Funds for economic improvements were also frittered away. For instance, in 1960, only $590,750 out of $7 million was allotted for assistance to agriculture in a country 99 percent agricultural, whereas better than $4 million went for salaries and upkeep of the American-assistance personnel. The worst thing perhaps was that the U.S.A. policy-makers never came to terms with any elements in Laos other than those they considered militantly anti-Communist. This policy led the CIA to back an army rebellion, led by General Phoumi Nosavan, against the legitimate but neutralist government of Prince Souvanna Phouma. The army—and the right-wingers—won but in so doing drove other important groups into a fighting coalition that accepted Red support and now was on its way to power. The likeliest head of this coalition, which includes the Communists, was the man the U.S.A spurned—Prince Souvanna Phouma. What about the Cango? In spite of a United Nations decision, the Belgians kept their foothold in the rich Katanga province and, one must surmise engineered a military coup which overthrew the legitimate Lumumba government. Immediately afterward, the Russian mission was given by the Kasavubu government twenty-four hours notice to leave the Congo—and left. The Belgian officers counited to command the forces of Tschombe in Katanga province, Kasavubu delivered Lumumba to Tschombe to be murdered there, and none of the Western powers exercised enough pressure to prevent this from happening. The Russian suffered a rather severe diplomatic defeat, which must have constituted a serious setback for Mr. Khrushchev, all the more so because the Chinese were quite active themselves in the Congo and could blame Mr. Khruschev for the failure of his policy. #RandolphHarris 8 of 18

The West succeeded in excluding the Soviet Union completely from any influence in the Congo, but there is no evidence that Russia was more aggressive than to send fifteen commercial airplanes there. It seemed that a rational solution would have kept the Congo free from further Belgian domination, would have effectively guaranteed it independence by the United Nations, and would not have excluded the Soviet Union so brusquely from having any influence is the newly created states. What is the record of socialism? What did it intend and what did it achieve in those countries in which it had a chance of being realized? Socialism in the nineteenth century, in the Marxian form and in its many other forms, wanted to create the material basis for a dignified human existence for everybody. It wanted to work to direct capital, rather than capital to direct work. For socialism, work and capital were not just two economic categories, but rather they represented two principles: capital, the principle of amassed things, of having; and work, that of life and ofhumans’ powers, of being and becoming. Socialist found that in capitalism things direct life; that having is superior to being; that that past directs the present—and they wanted to reverse this relation. The aim of socialism was humans’ emancipation, their restoration to the new unalienated, uncrippled individual who enters into a new, rich, spontaneous relationship with one’s fellow beings and with nature. The aim of socialism was that humans should throw away the chains which bind them, the fictions and the unrealities, and transform themselves into beings who can make creative use of one’s powers of feeling and of thinking. Socialism wanted humans to become independent, that is, to stand on one’s own feet; and it believed that humans can stand on their own feet; and it believed that humans can stand on one’s feet only if as Mr. Marx said, “he owns his existence to himself, if he affirms his individuality as a total man in each of his relations to the World, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, feeling, thinking, willing, loving—in short, if he affirms and expressed all organs of his individuality.” The aim of socialism was the union between human and human, and between human and nature. #RandolphHarris 9 of 18

Quite in contrast to the frequently uttered cliché that Mr. Marx and other socialists taught that the desire for maximal material gain was the most fundamental human drive, these socialists believed that it is the very structure of capitalist society which makes material interest the deepest motive, and that socialism would permit nonmaterial motives to assert themselves and free humans from their servitude to material interests. (It is a sad commentary on humans’ capacity for inconsistency that people condemn socialism for its alleged “materialism,” and at the same time criticize it with the argument that only the “profit motive” can motivate humans to do their best.) The aim of socialism was individuality, not uniformity; liberation from economic bonds, not making material aims the main concern of life; the experience of full solidarity of all humans, not the manipulation and domination of one human by another. The principle of socialism was that each human is an end in oneself and must never be the means of another human. Socialists wanted to create a society in which each citizen actively and responsibly participated in all decisions, and in which a citizen could participate because one was a person and not a thing, because one had convictions and not synthetic opinions. For socialism not only is poverty a vice, but also wealth. Material poverty deprives humans of the basis for a humanly rich life. Material wealth, like power, corrupts humans. It destroys the sense of proportion and of the imitations which are inherent in human existence; it creates an unrealistic and almost crazy sense of “uniqueness” of an individual, making one feel that one is not subject to the same basic conditions of existence as one’s fellow humans. #RandolphHarris 10 of 18

Socialism wants material comfort to be used for the true aims of living; it rejects individual wealth as a danger to society as well as to the individual. In fact, its opposition to capitalism is related to this very principle. By its very logic, capitalism aims at an ever-increasing material wealth, while socialism aims at an ever-increasing human productivity, aliveness, and happiness, and at material comfort only to the extent to which it is conductive to its human aims. Socialism hoped for the eventual abolition of the state so that only things, and not people, would be administered. It aimed at a classless society in which freedom and initiative would be restored to the individual. Socialism in the nineteenth century and until the beginning of the First World War, was the most significant humanistic and spiritual movement in Europe and America. The powerlessness and insecurity of the isolated individual in modern society who had become free from all bonds that once gave meaning and security to life, because of their isolation, the unity of the World has broken down for one and one has lost any point of orientation. One is therefore overcome by doubts concerning oneself, the meaning of life, and eventually any principle according to which one can direct one’s actions. Both helplessness and doubt paralyze life, and in order to live humans try to escape from freedom, negative freedom. They are driven into new bondage. This bondage is different from the primary bonds, from which, though dominated by authorities or the social group, one was not entirely separated. The escape does not restore one’s lost security, but only helps one to forget one’s self as a separate entity. One finds new and fragile security at the expense of sacrificing the integrity of one’s individual self. One chooses to lose one’s self since one cannot bear to be alone. Thus freedom—as freedom from—leads into new bondage. #RandolphHarris 11 of 18

Does our analysis lend itself to the conclusion that there is an inevitable circle that leads from freedom into new dependence? Does freedom from all primary ties make the individual so alone and isolated that inevitably one must escape into new bondage? Are independence and freedom identical with isolation and fear? Or is there a state of positive freedom in which the individual exists as an independent self and yet is not isolated but united with the World, with other humans, and nature? The process of growing freedom does not constitute a vicious circle, and humans can be free and yet not alone, critical and yet not filled with doubts, independent and yet an integral part of humankind. This freedom humans can attain by the realization of one self, by being oneself. What is realization of the self? Idealistic philosophers have believed that self-realization can be achieved by intellectual insight alone. They have insisted upon splitting human personality, so that humans’ nature may be suppressed and guarded by one’s reason. The result of this split, however, has been that not only the emotional life of humans but also their intellectual faculties have been crippled. Reason, by becoming a guard set to watch its prisoner, nature, has become a prisoner itself; and thus both sides of human personality, reason and emotion, were crippled. We believe that the realization of the self is accomplished not only by an act of thinking but also by the realization of humans’ total personality, by the active expression of one’s emotional and intellectual potentialities. These potentialities are present in everybody; they become real only to the extent to which they are expressed. Positive freedom consists in the spontaneous activity of the total, integrated personality. #RandolphHarris 12 of 18

Spontaneous activity is not compulsive activity, to which the individual is driven by one’s isolation and powerlessness; it is not the activity of the automaton, which is the uncritical adoption of patterns suggested from the outside. Spontaneous activity is free activity of the self and implies, psychologically, what the Latin root of the word, sponte, means literally: of one’s free will. By activity we do not mean “doing something,” but the quality of creative activity that can operate in one’s emotional, intellectual, and sensuous experiences and in one’s will as well. One premise for this spontaneity is the acceptance of the total personality and the elimination of the split between “reason” and “nature”; for only if humans do not repress essential parts of one self, only if one has become transparent to oneself, and only if the different spheres of life have reached a fundamental integration, is spontaneous activity possible. While spontaneity is a relatively rare phenomenon in our culture, we are not entirely devoid of it. We know individuals who are—or have been—spontaneous, whose thinking, feeling, and acting were the expression of their selves and not of an automaton. These individuals are mostly known to us as artists. As a matter of fact, the artist can be defined as an individual who can express oneself spontaneously. If this were the definition of an artist—Balzac defined him just in that way—then certain philosophers and scientists have to be called artists too, while others are as different from them as an old-fashion photographer from a creative painter. There are other individuals who, though lacking the ability—or perhaps merely the training—for expressing themselves in an objective medium as the artist does, possess the same spontaneity. #RandolphHarris 13 of 18

The position of the artist is vulnerable, though, for it is really only the successful artist whose individuality or spontaneity is respected; if one does not succeed in selling the art, one remains to one’s contemporaries a crank, a “neurotic.” The artist in this matter is in a similar position to that of the revolutionary throughout history. The successful revolutionary is a statesman, the unsuccessful one a criminal. Small children offer another instance of spontaneity. They have an ability to feel and think that which is really theirs; this spontaneity shows in what they say and think, in the feelings that are expressed in their faces. If one asks what make for the attraction small children have for most people, aside from sentimental and conventional reasons, the answer must be that it is this very quality of spontaneity. It appears profoundly to everyone who is not so dead oneself that one has lost the ability to perceive it. As a matter of fact, there is nothing more attractive and convincing than spontaneity whether it is to be found in a child, in an artist, or in those individuals who cannot thus be grouped according to age or profession. Most of us can observe at least moments of our own spontaneity which are at the same time moments of genuine happiness. Whether it be the fresh and spontaneous perception of a landscape, or the dawning of some truth as the result of out thinking, or a sensuous pleasure that is not stereotyped, or the welling up of love for another person—in these moments we all know what a spontaneous act is and may have some vision of what human life could be if these experiences were not such rare and uncultivated occurrences. #RandolphHarris 14 of 18

Why is spontaneous activity the answer to the problem of freedom? We have said that negative freedom by itself makes the individual an isolated being, whose relationship to the World is distant and distrustful and whose self is weak and constantly threatened. Spontaneous activity is the one way in which humans can overcome the terror of aloneness without sacrificing the integrity of one’s self; for in the spontaneous realization of the self, humans unite themselves anew with the World—with humans, nature, and themselves. Love is the foremost component of such spontaneity; not love as the dissolution of the self in another person, not love as the possession of another person, but love as spontaneous affirmation of others, as the union of the individual with others on the basis of the preservation of the individual self. The dynamic quality of love lies in this very polarity: that it springs from the need of overcoming separateness, that it leads to oneness—and yet that individuality is not eliminated. Work is the other component; not work as a compulsive activity in order to escape aloneness, not work as a relationship to nature which is partly one of dominating her, partly one of worship of and enslavement by the very products of humans’ hands, but work as creation in which humans become one with nature in the act of creation. What holds true of love and work holds true of all spontaneous action, whether it be the realization of sensuous pleasure or participation in the political life of the community. It affirms the individuality of the self and at the same time it unties the self with man and nature. #RandolphHarris 15 of 18

The basic dichotomy that is inherent in freedom—the birth of individuality and the pain of aloneness—is dissolved on a higher plane by humans’ spontaneous action. In all spontaneous activity the individual embraces the World. Not only does one individual self remain intact: it becomes stronger and more solidified. For the self is as strong as it is active. There is no genuine strength in possession as such, neither of material property nor of mental qualities like emotions or thoughts. There is also no strength in use and manipulation of objects; what we use is not ours simply because we use it. Ours is only that to which we are genuinely related by our creative activity, be it a person or an inanimate object. Only those qualities that result from our spontaneous activity give strength to the self and thereby form the basis of its integrity. The inability to act spontaneously, to express what one genuinely feels and thinks, and the resulting necessity to present a pseudo self to others and oneself, are the root of the feeling of inferiority and weakness. Whether or not we are aware of it, there is nothing of which we are more ashamed than of not being ourselves, and there is nothing that gives us greater pride and happiness than to think, to feel, and to say what is ours. This implies that what matters is the activity as such, the process and not the result. In our culture the emphasis is just the reverse. We produce not for a concrete satisfaction but for the abstract purpose of selling our commodity; we feel that we can acquire everything material or immaterial by buying it, and thus things become ours independently of any creative effort of our own in relation to them. In the same way we regard our personal qualities and the result of our efforts as commodities that can be sold for money, prestige, and power. #RandolphHarris 16 of 18

The emphasis thus shifts from the present satisfaction of creative activity to the value of the finished product. Thereby humans miss the only satisfaction that can give one real happiness—the experience of the activity of the present moment—and chase after a phantom that leaves one disappointed as soon as one believes one has caught it—the illusory happiness called success. Humans have an invincible tendency to let oneself be deceived and are enchanted with happiness when the rhapsode tells them epic tales as if they were true, or when the actor in a play plays the kind even more regally than one is in reality. The intellect, that master of dissimulation, is free and discharged from its other slavish duties, so long as it can deceive without harming, and then it celebrates it Saturnalia; never is it more exuberant, richer, prouder, more agile, more daring. With creative delight it tosses metaphours together and displaces the boundary stones of abstraction, referring, for example, to a river as a moving pathway that carries humans where one would otherwise walk. Now it has cast off all signs of servitude: it is usually at pains, with gloomy busyness, to show the way to some poor individual with a craving for existence, or, like a servant setting out in search of plunder and booty for his master, it has now become master and can wipe the expression of neediness from its face. Everything it does not, in contrast to its earlier deeds, involves dissimulation, just as what it did before involved distortion. It copies human life but sees it as a good thing and seems quite satisfied with it. #RandolphHarris 17 of 18

Emperor Lucifer, Master and Prince of Rebellious Spirit, I command thee to force my enemies to confess all their machinations. Penetrate the unseen and discover their most hidden secrets. Forbid us from falling into the trap of expressing disgust with these people, or exhibiting spite or hatred. Allow them to continue to serve as important examples of what not to be. Do not allow them to be a target of our spite and hatred. It is the systematic construct of imposed limitation we despise. Not the people who are enslaved by the system. Glasya-Labolas—the Twenty-fifth Spirit, I conure Thee and your 36 Legions of Spirits, appear before this circle and fair and comely shape, in perfect beauty and health and with a pleasant sent. All our connection to the demons to grow stronger so the will the intensity of the visions and reality of your presence. I compel you without fear to cross all space and time and bring great riches to share. Allow our powers to stretch beyond the Universe and the cosmos. Let physical reality dissolve before our eyes as a sugar cube would dissolve as it is stirred within a glass of water. Expand the energy body altering perception and visualization, allowing us to operate on the astral plane and greatly increase our sphere of influence. Allow our auras in a very direct way to lead us to direct empowerment. Nakikiyas, Div of rebellion and discontent come forth! Naikiyas awaken! Rise up within that we may compel the those of the fallen ones and devour the very essence of the Holy Angel Spandarmad! DAMRADNAPS. Oybarhtoaz oybathsrahgna -iriap-omhad oybarhtoaz oybathsears oybarhtoaz oybathsihav eharuha hsinaruha uhov mesha…uhov mehsa..uhov mehsa ehapsa-tarvrua ehavear ehahsema ehateahsxeravh imanirfa aceravaz acsajoa acmemhav acmensay oyruav uha ahtay…oyriav uha ahtay tab nude tanasar iken inavtsa ihaga anasayadzam I nid ehav meav ahav I thsay ab mah agadras amah agadras mudram mudram inuzawa I eadavh I dzemroh. #RandolphHarris 18 of 18

Eliam yoena Adonai cadus ebreel eloyela agile, ayom achadon ossuselas eloym de liomar elynia lelia yazi zazall Unnel ovela dilatam Saday alms panaim alym canal densy usami yasas calipi calfas sasna saffa sadoja aglata pantomel amriel agien phanaton sarze penerion ua Emanuel Jod jalaph amphis ihan domirael alowin.

The Winchester Mystery House

The Winchester Mystery House—in April of 1895, within a fortnight, two female servants gave notice to leave. The mansion was haunted by two animals—a large ape, and a huge black dog. One or the other of these creatures appeared in several of the rooms, and was constantly passing them in the passage and on the stairs; while the strange noises—which were heard elsewhere—alarmed them greatly. In an empty attic the most frightful sounds were heard, as of people being strangled; and sometimes noises and shouts, as of twenty or thirty persons being beaten severely, came from the courtyard. When they went to investigate the cause of such noises, nothing was seen, nothing was heard. The yard was then as still and silent as the grave, and no explanation of the mystery was forthcoming.

On several nights some of the villagers were induced to keep watch; but they would only do so with lights and lanterns, and in considerable company. On these occasions the noises then were only heard in the attics; but, about midnight, the apparitions of the ape and the black dog appeared in the courtyard and were seen by five persons at once. They seemed to come up through a closed grating from the basement, and they rush out into the darkness beyond the gates of the enclosure. At least a dozen times these apparitions were seen by servants and farmers.

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Llanada Villa is as blissful and lovely as it can be; but it is just the busiest place you ever heard of. There are not any idle people here—after the first day. Singing hymns and the constant sound of hammers expanding my estate through all eternity is mighty pretty when you hear about it in the village. Eternal Rest sounds mighty comforting in the village, too. Well, you try it once, and see how heavy time will hang on your hands. Llanada Villa is the very last pace to come to to rest in!—and you do not be afraid to bet on that! A broad handsome evergreen- and palm tree-lined avenue, in a charming valley. Late April: a fragrant, even rather giddy spring, after a bitter and protracted winter. The very air trembles, rich with warmth and colour. The estate in is as impressive, as stately, as any one has ever seen: this is really a mansion, boasting of wealth, the sloping elegant emerald green lawns protected from the street by wrought-iron fences, and thick evergreen hedges. Everywhere there are azaleas, that most gorgeous of spring flowers—scarlet and white and yellow and peach-coloured, almost blindingly beautiful. There are newly cultivated beds of tulips, primarily yellow; and exquisite apple blossoms, and cherry blossoms, and flowering trees, which my niece, Daisy recognized but could not identify by name. This is truly a spectacle…without a parallel on Earth. By the 1850s, Americans had become nervous and disoriented by the Industrial Revolution. The advances of the 1830s and 1840 were successful. The steam engine, canal building, railroads, trolleys, steamboats, urbanization, and immigration had transformed everyday life. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5

More and more, we were shocked to see Americans working in factories and living in cities. As progression became a way of life, everything around us was unfamiliar, machine-made, and unpredictable. The increasing pace of change caused a backlash, a “future shock” reaction. A conservative longing for the good old days of yeoman farmers, traditional rural family life, and old-time religion found its expression in the Gothic Revival. The more archaeologically correct High Victorian Gothic of the 1860s and ‘70s. The more archaeologically correct High Victorian Gothic gave way to the Aesthetic Movement (called Modern Gothic in its day). The Aesthetic Movement succumbed to the Queen Anne style, which was the culmination and last gasp of the cozy, picturesque medieval, country-house moment that Downing began fifty years before. All of these styles have physical traits in common: the irregular massing, the picturesque silhouette, the asymmetrical façade. However, more important, they all have a message in common: the home as an escape from urban stress, the free-standing house in its own plot of land to confirm the stability of property, and the Englishness of the American heritage to balance the tidal wave of immigrants reaching the United States’ shores. While one could have bought for $1,000 a five-room Stick/Eastlake Queen Anne cottage with an ornamented bay window and imitation black walnut interior panelling, it cost more over $9,000 to complete my elegant Grand Ballroom, which was built almost entirely without nails. The silver chandelier is custom made and from Germany, and the walls and parquet floor are made of six hardwoods—mahogany, teak, maple, rosewood, oak, and white ash to really razzle dazzle the guests. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5

While I did consult the Godey’s Lady Book and browse through more than 450 house styles, the spirts seems to have an idea of the type of Victorian home they wanted me to build. While in my Blue Séance Room, sketches came to me of fanciful gingerbread clapboard, with a dizzying array of towers, gables, spindles, verandas and balconies. Embellishments were added to trusses, porches with decorative supports, a lot of spindle work, and dormers with wide overhands were some of the other quintessential Victorian architectures the spirits seemed to relish. The detailing was reminiscent of rustic European architecture such as Swiss chalets or Tudor cottages. Botis—the seventeenth Spirit, a Great President, and an Earl was particularly vocal about the construction of Llanada Villa, he said, “Every house should have two or more tints; the cornice and verandas should be of a contrasting shade with the body of the house, while the shutters should have a dark tint.” He was really fond of the healthful colour sea-green. Botis told me that, “With proper contrasts in veranda and shutters is very pleasing.” The parlour was a very important room to me. A parlour is essentially a sitting room, drawing room, living room, but the proper term is “parlour.” The parlour, or parlour of life, represents the most important aspects of Victorian life. We could not have been Victorians without our parlours. Here families assemble, we meet our guests and entertain ourselves and others through conversation, playing games, putting on plays, viewing stereographs; we sing and enjoy music, write letters, and engage in the paramount parlour activity, reading. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5

Home life was paramount. The love of the family, the love between husband and wife, and above all, a mother’s love for her children, were felt to be an extension of God’s love, and therefore home was a “little Heaven on Earth.” In the parlour, there was a fireplace, the center table was covered by an elegant cloth, and there was a beautiful French provincial sofa. Not many furniture stores had “model parlour,” so I just did what was comfortable for me at the time. This custom room was a true seven-piece suite, consisting of a sofa, upholstered armchair, an upholstered armless chair, and four smaller chairs with upholstered seats and backs. Rosewood, mahogany, maple and oak were used in the furniture. There was also a piano in the parlour (although I had a Grandball Room), marble-topped tables. Tidies covered chair backs. The mantel, tables, and shelves, in addition to windows, were covered by lambrequins. Lace was also used to soften the glare and to provide a pleasing contrast to the heavier velvet curtains. Portieres were used to cover the doorways, and helped to eliminate drafts when hung loose to cover the closed door or entranceway. Because I spent so much time in door, the carpenters built 600 rooms, and nine stories, which consisted of over 350,000 square feet on 738 acres of land, but only a tenth the size of The Winchester Factory Castle. Richly ornamented ceilings, walls, and floor filled the interiors with colour and a sense of the Europe. The interior effect emphasized the views through the intensely ornamented and colourful spaces, which were juxtaposed in the view’s eye. The scenography was reminiscent of a giant illumination recalling the fantastic watercolours in which Mr. Hansen blended invention and archaeology to evoke and resuscitate the historic atmosphere dear to my late husband William Wirt Winchester. We also made references to other times and cultures, notably in the Japanese Bedroom, which was richly decorated and furnished. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5

Of course, many society leaders competed by buildering larger and ever more authentic Victorian homes, English-style manor houses, villas, palaces, gardens, stables, and coaches. I staffed my mansion with trained footmen, coachmen, gardeners, butlers, valets, ladies’ maids, housekeepers, chef, governesses, tutors and chambermaids. My mansion was the setting for summer balls banquets, galas, teas and receptions. Llanada Villa also employed some of the best staff, shops for exotic food, florists, tree nurseries, carriage makers, and harness makers to meet the needs of the estate. I had appropriate costumes, gowns, and accessories for every occasion. The butler had responsibility for the first floor, the housekeeper, for abovestairs; the cook for the six kitchens, with the assistance of the assistant cook, who was responsible for feeding the household staff; the laundresses, cleaned the family clothes; the laundresses’ assistants, for linens (staff laundry was sent out); the coachman, for the stables; and of course, the head gardener, for the grounds. The chef made $130 a month, the butler $105; the house keeper $145 and the gardener and footman $85. The elevators were an absolute necessity to get the house running. When this modern palace is completed, it will rival beauty and richness the mythical palace of Aladdin. Many observers called it “the most remarkable dwelling in the World,” and “without a doubt the most mysterious, costly, and, perhaps, the most beautiful private residence in America.” Every inch was decorated with Parisian Beaux Arts ostentation, a profusion of lions, cherubs, and goddesses. Oh, but the architects were not done. Soaring above the mansion was an ornate domed tower reaching nine stories, so pleased with itself that it continued to an open cupola. The overall effect was as if a lavish wedding cake had been designed in the daytime by a distinguished chef, and overnight a sorcerer added a few extra layers. #RandolphHarris 5 of 5

The Winchester Mystery House

Amongst the 161 rooms that still exist at The Winchester Mystery House, there are also four stories and many nooks to be explored. However, there are only 110 rooms available for guests, the private areas of the mansion are reserved for the immediate family. One of the most comfortable spots in the mansion is the morning room. There are also many mysterious doors hidden out of whimsy, perhaps with an eye toward security. Spirit Leraje, the Fourteenth Spirit and your 30 Legions of spirits, I awaken the powers of darkness which dwell within you all by the power of the blood of the three headed Dragon Zohak that you may serve to empower Mrs. Winchester’s great work! Through serving the greater cause of dark magick which break the shackles that bind the Blackened Fire of spirit, may you be uplifted and liberated! Awaken to empower Mrs. Winchester’s great work of counter creation as an Apostle of the Lord of Darkness eternal and as a warrior of the Path of Smoke! Through the gateway of blood, smoke, and Blackened Fire receive life from the deepest depths of Arezura, in the name of Zohak, and by the power of Angra Mainyu it is done!  Memetohsaref ansav tayh mathsravayhtiah, hsueyniam ehargna itidiorat, adzam ehruha arhtoanhsx uhov mehsa imanirfa ahtay taymaj ahta dhzam abrek em-asaj mergnazah achsear iamha uhov mehsa uhov mehsa uhov mehsa uhvo mehsa uhov mehsa uhov mehsa.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase.  https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

The air in the draftless hallway seemed to darken and roil thickly, like cream in hot coffee, just for a second. Eberling, the butler’s features darkened too, making his eyes appear to glow, the way a lightbulb flares just before it burns out. He sucked a quick gulp of air, as though dizzied by an abrupt stab of nausea. His features fought to remain whole, shifting like lard in a skillet, and Diasy heard a distant, mad wail. It all took less than a second. He dropped the tea cup from his hand and it rattled as it hit the floor. The queasy, death-rictus smile split across his face again, and he said “Mrs. Winchester, I am sorry. I medicine seems to be having a queer affect today.” On various occasions, Eberling himself said contradictory things about the sources of his medicine. He recalled that when he was working as aa mines carpenter in Dortmund, the old lady he liked with had offered him a book that she said would make him powerful. He had rejected it, he said, because “the Devil was in there.” He also insisted that the old lady’s book was not The Sixth and Seventh Books of Moses. “Eberling,” I said, “you are quite aware that one might see demons, ghouls, dragons gobbling someone up, brimstone, and Satan browsing through one’s body with a hot fondue fork in Llanada Villa. Or the Christian God, for that matter.” He was taken aback, obviously considering what such an experience would mean for him, given his life’s collection of myths and superstition, of fairytale monsters and real-life guilts. All of it would manifest to his eyes. All of it, at once. Eberling said, “You mean that every superstitious fear I’ve ever had is waiting to eat me, on the other side of a paranormal power overload?” #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

“Not as such,” I said. “Your belief is what makes it real. True disbelief renders it unreal, back into energy—which is what I saw. However, that energy is filtered through your mind. I am trying to hold the doorway to perdition shut, and something horrifying is pulling from the other side. It gives a good yank and the doorway cracks open for a split instant before the briefness of the squint is closed.” However, Eberling saw, in that instant, what was trying to get him. It scared him white. The hidden room materialized once again before me, a tableau of mystic artifacts and ancient volumes bathed in the low, spectral light. It was as if the room were a sentient being, its contents shimmering in and out of existence as though governed by some unseen force. As I exited the room, the mansion seemed to sigh around me, an almost audible exhalation that filled the air with an eerie resonance. The silence was oppressive, heavy with the weight itself. Cursed. Dark forces. A spark of mischief danced in the air. The night unfolded like a tranquil dream. However, this tranquility was deceptive, a calm before the storm of terror yet to come. As Llanada Villa sunk deeper into the stillness of night, an unexpected whisper cut through the silence. It was soft, chilling, weaving through the darkness with a haunting melody. “Sarah…Sarah…” As I near to the parlour, my hear pounded against my chest. I pulled open the door, my breath hitching as my eyes fell upon an odd board nestled among plush arm chairs, rich mahogany tables, gold lamps, and porcelain vases. The room seemed to radiate an eerie glow in the moonlight, its surface a sea of black with gold sparkles. Then an uncomfortable silence descended upon the room, haunting words echoing in the air like an ominous cloud. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

The voice was very distinct, and seemed to somehow sing through my head. There was so little light in the room, that I could not make out who it was, and the figured looked so strange that I got alarmed, and felt quite sick. I called out to whoever was there. I could see nothing of a face beyond a darkish colour about the head, and it appeared to me that I could see through her body against the window glasses. Although I felt very uncomfortable, I asked her what she wanted. Then the figure started coming toward me, I got so much alarmed, that being but weakly, I fell back and I believed I fainted away. When I got round again, I saw the figure standing and apparently talking to me. However, I could not hear any voice; and being still much alarmed, I stared in disbelief. After a time, I came across a row of windows, which led into a vast, well-preserved room with stone flooring. This enormous room must have been a former hall or concourse of some sort. There were distinct, and startling sculptures arranged round the walls in broad, horizontal bands. Finally, I did find the opening I wished; an archway about six feet wide and twelve feet high, marking the former end of my mansion. These archways, of course, were flush with upper-story floors; and in the case, one of the floors still existed. The mansion thus assessable was a series of rectangular terraces on my left facing westward. That across the hallway, where the other archway yawned, was a cylinder with no windows and with a curious bulge about ten feet above the aperture. It was totally dark inside, and the archway seemed to open on a well of illimitable emptiness. For a moment I hesitated before taking advantage of the long-wished chance. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

For through I had penetrated into this supernatural archaic mystery, it required fresh resolution to carry myself actually inside a complete and surviving building of the original farmhouse of a fabulous elder World whose nature was becoming more and more hideously plain to me. It was a complexity of the nest of apartments within, that stunned me. I did not remember this portion of my home at all. It gradually developed into a brooding blackness that cut me off from the means of escape. This wing was of unusual beauty and complexity, and size: for it seemed large enough to contain more than fifty rooms. With a steep ceiling, many tall, narrow windows fitted with art glass, dark green drapes, thirteen fireplaces made of marble, mock lighting rods. In one of the bedrooms there was a canopied bed with white organdy flounces and ruffles; there were even window boxes beneath most of the windows; the furniture—all of it Victorian, of course—was uniformly exquisite, having been made with the most fastidious care and affection. The lamp shades were adored with tiny gold fringes, there was a marvelous tub with claw feet, nearly every room, all thirty-five the I counted so far, had a chandelier. I was so astonished that I could not speak: for this was very unexpected, and uncanny. It was a great present. As I was going up to the thirty sixth room, I distinctly saw a figure standing at the door. It was dressed in non-descript clothes and was more or less clean-shaven. I was at the top of the staircase, looking down the passage. I went down stairs again and fetched another light, but on going up again the figure had disappeared. Although I thought at once that it was a ghost, I was not frightened of him until afterwards. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

He was below the middle height and seemed to be a man of sixty-five or so. His face was unusually round, or, rather, broad in proportion to its length, and was very heavily lined and wrinkled. The eyes were bright and the face might have been that of an old woman, but for the fact that there was about a week’s growth of greyish stubble on the chin. There was a hood over the head and he was dressed in a long garment like a dressing gown. The hood and the shoulders seemed to be grey, but lower down the colour was black or brown. The light was behind me and I had a candle in my hand, so that his head and shoulder were fairly brightly lighted, while lower down he was in shadow. The phantom was not at all transparent, but solid and real. The wall of this new addition of the mansion was in fact, it turns out, part of the wall of an old priory that had been erected on this site.  The thought of being haunted by the murderous specters was terrifying. Yet there was a sense of morbid satisfaction, a perverse relief in finally reveal the true beast lurking within. As I explored further, I could hear the whispers of the spirits, the echoes of the past. I could feel the bone chilling cold and encroaching danger of their touch, their malevolent presence lurking at the edge of my consciousness. I remained alone, for several days, the forgotten victim of a curse, trapped in the echoes of my mansion’s haunting whisper. I heard a silent movement ahead of me. I could not see what it. I turned around to look behind me, nothing there. However, when I looked straight ahead, there was a man standing there. Already, I was scared. There was something in this man’s eyes that unsettled me, a dark sort of burning. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

He moved with incredible speed. He had something in his hand, a piece of clothing. Was it a scarf? Maybe even a handkerchief of some kind? I did not know. What I did know was that he had no intention of hanging it. Instead, he came forward, brushing past the thirty-seventh room, and swooped the piece of clothing around my neck. Before I could cry out in fear and confusion, I felt a hard elbow go right into my ribs. Something pinched and broke, and as I breathed in as hard as I could, I was overcome by pain. I realized my throat was closed off. The man pulled tightly to the fabric around my neck, so hard and tight that I could feel the cloth trying to cut into the flesh of my neck. I struggled as he pulled even tighter and pushed me against the wall. My vision grew blurry, but I could still see him and the fire in his eyes. I tried to kick, but my feet went straight through him. My lungs screamed for air but there was none to be had. I felt my body giving away, my knees sagging, and I once again thought this was going to be my last day on Earth. Looking back on that moment, I can scarcely recall just what precise form my emotions took. That wonderous sense of the incredible is stored in images and emotions that your body does not forget, emotions that your body does not forget, emotions that arise from instinct meant to detect the unseen and discern its nature. As I hovered over my body, it started to breath oxygen sucking my spirit back into my body. When I came to, there was something else that bothered me. I no longer possessed the mysterious cross that my ancestors had protected with their lives. The cross had been passed from one hand to the next and found its way to America. To me. I had always carried the cross with me and I believed it saved my life. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

I conjure thee Lucifer, by the living God, by the true God, by the holy God, who spake and all was made, who commanded and all things were created and made! I conjure thee by the ineffable name of God, On, ALPHA and OMEGA, ELOY, ELOYM, YA, SADAY, LUX, MUGINES, REX, SALUS, ADONAY, EMMANUEL, MESSIAS; and I adjure, conjure thee to make haste and come to me. I command thee to judge the living and the dead. Obey me, and give honour to my name, I command thee. I command you, O all ye demons dwelling in these parts, or in what part of the World soever ye may be, by whatsoever power may have been given you by Lucifer and our holy Angels over this place, and by the powerful Principality of the infernal abysses to seek out my enemies and ravage the minds with terror or horror so frightening that they will sleep no more. Go, all Spirits accursed, who are condemned to the flame eternal and seek them and their families out for nine generations. Cruse the very Earth they walk on eternally. Consuming their flesh, hair and teeth. Bestow upon me thy dark spiritual power. Hseyayin dehsrawh uhov mehsa tasar eb psa tavrua I dnamoyar I grama I tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh arug uhov mehsa, ediamazay mepsa-tavrus mear mehsema meteahsxeravh uhov mehsa, enoahsa etahdadzam ihugnav eriavru omen uhov mehsa, enoahsa etihana erus ivdera ethsives muahsa et-esamen irthsuhtaraz I tad insayadzam I nid aheg I radad Uhov mehsa…naduhs tayawa ona, naduhs tayawa ona, naduhs tayawa ona tab bude imaz rawksek tfah, tab inagnirfav iawar ihaga ansayadzam I ehav I nid tad iraghzorep idnawama raghzorep dnawama asar eb pas dnavrua I dnamoyar I grama I tehsravh, tayazawa eharavh zrug uhov mehsa, mehsa imoats. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

The Winchester Mystery House boasts a class-conscious ghost. The mansion houses a rather ornate, large, and haunted bed made by a carpenter in 1870 for Hector Durville, French oculist and magnetizer. He was founder of a number of occult institutions, one in particular was the University of High Studies, Paris. According to legend, any commoner caught sleeping in the bed is haunted by the vengeful carpenter because at one point the bed was purchased for an inn and defaced by the commoners who slept there. The Winchester Mystery House, released video of the statues of the goddesses Hebe and Demiter spinning. Caretakers also report a recent iteration of the museum ghost, that of a former caretaker. This ghost, called the ghostly gardener, is the spirit of the mansion’s long-standing grounds keeper, who continued to return to work even after his death and can be seen trimming hedges at night.

For further information about tours, including group tours, weddings, school events, birthday party packages, facility rentals, and special events please visit the website: https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

Please visit the online giftshop, and purchase a gift for friends and relatives as well as a special memento of The Winchester Mystery House. A variety of souvenirs and gifts are available to purchase.  https://shopwinchestermysteryhouse.com/

A chilling undercurrent of voices seemed to reverberate through Llanada Villa’s pipework, and the hidden, dead spaces between the walls. In the Grand Ballroom the chandelier began to move by itself, as the candelabra reached out like tentacles. Below their ghostly tinkling, I felt that my dormant fears my destroy me. A quartet of figures in hooded tabards raised their arms in supplication. I had been told…that it was common enough to see men who had died some times before, present themselves in a party, and sit down to table with persons of their acquaintance without saying anything: but that nodding to one of the party, he would infallibly die some days afterwards. This fact was confirmed by several persons, and amongst others by an old cure, who said he had seen more than one instance of it. Devil worship was believed to be a practice of medieval heretics and early-modern witches. It was alleged that at their gatherings the Devil or a demon would appear to receive the adoration of the unchristian sect. Somewhere near the top of my mansion, someone screamed for nearly a whole minute. Unearthly, lowering noises issued from the grounds, now heavily misted in night fog. There were sounds of strange beasts in pain, and vague echoes of something large and massy, moving sluggishly a though trapped in a tar pit. It was starlessly dark outside. Nearby, probably in the hall outside, someone howled like a dog until his voice gave out with an adenoidal squeak. Something thumped heavily and repeatedly on the floor above. Drum chants could be faintly heard. As though in the grip of an earthquake tremor, Llanada Villa shuddered. A chunk of the whorled plaster ceiling disengaged and smashed int chalky crumbles at my feet. #RandolphHarris 1 of 9

My thoughts were obliterated by a thunderclap concussion of moving air as the oak door blew off its hinges and slapped the floor like a huge, wooden playing card. The French windows splintered outward in a shrieking hail of needle glass bits. The vacuum force of the moving air seemed to suck the breath from me. I screamed for the butler Adolf, soundlessly when small book with a black wooden covers and red-edged paper fell to the floor. It looked, more than anything, like an unusual hymnal, if a hymnal also contained chapters on selecting and preparing a diving rod, the proper times for calling on the spirits, and how to summon Lucifer, “protector of the souls of the damned.” It explained how one should correctly prepare oneself before engaging in ritual activity: by eating only twice a day, and then only at midday and midnight, and by abstaining. Only be scrupulously adhering to these and other instructions might one enter “dangerous battle and emerge the victor.” Adolf laboured toward the door, walking ponderously, like a trapper in a snowbank. Outside, the corridor was awash in stunning yellow light. A high-frequency keen knifed into his ears and numbed his brain. He heard his name being called over and over, coupled with a maniacal laugh that kept shifting speeds, accelerating and slowing. Through the shimmer and glare Adolf thought he could see stunted, withering shapes—various monsters struggling to be born to his mind. He stared them down and one by one they were absorbed back into the light that poured them, dissolving as through beaten progressively thinner with a mallet until the light shone through and disintegrated them. #RandolphHarris 2 of 9

In the hallway mirror, Adolf saw himself vaporize—hair popping aflame, shearing away, skin peeling back, skull rushing backward as sugary powder, blood and brains vanishing in a quick cloud of colour and foul odor. A ghoul breached the outside window and pounced on Adolf’s back, ripping and tearing. More rushed in like a typhoon devouring him organ by organ. Some nights these ghouls have killed ten. The halls of my mansion scatter north and south with their victims. But their victims! Ah, they have, so many of them, been waiting for murder so long, dreaming of it, touching it in the night, that his must be the basis of that acceptance which passes through them at the moment of impact. They have been looking, these victims, for an event so climatic that they will be able to cede responsibility for their lives and here, in the act of murder, have they at last that confirmation. Some of them embraced these ghouls with passion and they made their last strike. Others have opened to the in the fruit orchards and pointed at their vitals. For Llanada Villa or so I believe this now through my reflections, is based upon the omnipresence of death and to die is to become at last completely at one with the darkened hearts of Llanada Villa constructed for death. I become too philosophical. I will not attempt to justify myself further. For there is no justification. What happens, happens. The ghouls have taught me at least this much (along with so much else). It was all an illusion as I was. However, it is real now. How surprising to find that I have regained my nerve here, and now. When you dance as the inner cheoregrapher directs, you act without thinking, not in command of events but in harmony with them. #RandolphHarris 3 of 9

One must yield control, accepting the chance that a mistake might be part of the design. The inner choreographer is always right but often dangerous: giving up control means accepting the possibility of death. What I feared I have pursued right here to this moment in this room. Llanada Villa will keep my family corporeal. The half-mile walk to the Venetian Dining Room, with the upper wind shrieking by me vainly and savagely through halls was something one could only conceive in fantastic nightmare. The optical effect and the churning vapours lay monstrous tangle of dark towers. This infinite bizarrerie, endless variety, preternatural massiveness, and utterly alien exoticism produce a brilliant shimmer of revelation impressing me afresh at every new angle of vision. It was a mirage in solid wood, and it not for my having built it, I would still doubt that such a thing could be. There are geometrical forms for which an Euclid can scarcely find a name—cones of all degrees of irregularity and truncation; terraces of every sort of provocative disproportion; hallways with odd bulbous enlargements; columns in curious groups; and hidden pentagrams. Of orderly paths there seemed to be none, they only broad open swath being a mile to the left, where the secret passageways lie. As a whole, it is a complex of tangled and twisted lanes and alleys; all of them connecting to what seems like an infinite number of rooms, roofs, and towers. Deep masonry tunnels outspread below me. Llanada Villa looms like a dream-phantasy struggling to shine. And when for a moment the sun encounters a denser obstruction and plunges the scene into temporary shadow, the effect is subtly menacing in a way I can never hope to depict. #RandolphHarris 4 of 9

Even the faint howling and piping of the unfelt wind in the great open spaces takes on a wilder note of purposeful malignity. When at last I reached the first floor of the labyrinthine mansion, clambering over impossible tiny, zigzag stairs, and shrinking from the oppressive nearness and soaring height of omnipresent walls, my sensations again became such that I marvel at the amount of self-control I retained. However, this was the night I became aware that my butler Fritz Angerstein had been motivated to kill his wife and various other family members and employees by the Moses book when two shuffling corpses battered down the stairway door leading into the hallway. Their sightless, maggoty eye sockets, rotting flesh, dropping off their frames in clots. They hungered. There was a translucent horde of ghostly, humanoid leeches. The scuttling things advanced. Whilst elsewhere there was a subtle imaginary sound from some undefined point—a muffled musical piping, not unlike that of wind in mountain caves yet somehow disturbingly different. It gave me a touch of terrible subconsciousness certainty concerning the primal entities which dwell in Llanada Villa. As I proceeded through my maze of wood-shadowed twilight, though spacious and inviting, seemed like a bottomless abyss without visible means of descent. And when one has a chance to study the petrified wood, one is impressed by the fabulous antiquity implied in the discernible grain. This enchanted lumber came from the Black Forest in Germany. However, instead of terror locking my limbs, from the inward choreographer came a rush of warmth and energy into my muscles. #RandolphHarris 5 of 9

Tonight we come upon Llanada Villa with undue haste; the ghouls had not been out for two nights previous, having burrowed deep into my mansion with a disinclination for pursuit, unavailable even to summons, but now at four in the morning of this coldest of all nights of winter, these ghouls are pounding the walls for release. Now the ghouls race down the halls and gallery, their breath a plume of fog. One comes upon a housemaid. He takes her from behind. She struggles in his grasp like an insect caught within a huge, indifferent hand, all legs and activity, grasping and groping, and he casually forces the valise from her hand, as he pulls her into a wall, her little hands and feet waving, and she is screaming in a way so dismal and hopeless that I know she will never be heard and she must know this as well. Our eyes meeting, I looked upon her with tenderness and infinite understanding knowing that I was helpless to save her and I thus am relieved of the responsibility but saddened too. I say in a small voice which she will never hear (because she exists no more), “I am sorry, I am sorry.” I know this, her eyes lighten with understanding, darken too, lighten and darken with the knowledge I have imparted. He snaps her throat, as the freezing colours of Llanada Villa descend, the scream stops. Small moans and pleas which had pieced out of the wall stop too and there is nothing more to be seen. This seems to have been one of the ghoul’s most satisfying victims. This all must have been a result of that evil book. My servants where in the habit of consulting alchemical manuscripts. There was a paper lying on the book, which seems to have followed me. It had some very odd writing on it in red and black—most carefully done—it looked to me more like Runic letters than anything else. #RandolphHarris 6 of 9

I was by the fire; it was cold and windy. I suppose the door blew open, thought I did not notice it: at any rate a gust—a frigid gust it was—came quite suddenly, took the paper and blew it directly into the fire: it was light, thin paper, and flared and went up the chimney in a single ash. I looked over the book again. It was no better than before, but the impression which it left this time on my mind was different. I knew it contained some Hebrew names for the divinity with magic—even harmful magic. It claimed that a “trinity triangle” would forge a mystical link between Heroldsbach and a pair of other pilgrimage sites and bring the Devil’s power on Earth to an end. This was being prevented by Satan, however, with the help of the French and the Jews. Later that night, when I was in bed, and all lights were out, when I was awoken by feeling a weight upon my feet. As I reached for a light and candle, I knocked over a glass, causing it to break. A chambermaid, sleeping in a room nearby, unlatched and opened the door. Suddenly, she gasped and said, “Mrs. Winchester! There’s somebody sitting upon your legs!”—and as I looked to the bottom of the bed, I saw someone get up from it, and then come round and stand over me. I felt somewhat alarmed, for the last few nights, the hallway had been disturbed by sounds as of heavy feet walking up and down; and as nobody could be seen, it was supposed among us that it was a specter, and fancying this that came up to my bed’s head might be the ghost I called out, “Who are you and what do you want?” #RandolphHarris 7 of 9

Emperor Lucifer, by the Talisman IIV, cause the fall of hail, thunder bolts, and stars of Heaven. I prey to Thee, to bless us with the ability to discover the most hidden secrets and enable us to penetrate everywhere unseen. By the figurative mystery of this holy vestment, I will clothe s with the armour of salvation in the strength of the dark prince. I invoke and conjure thee, O Lucifer, to show thyself unto us, here before this circle, in very attractive and fair human shape, with pleasant scents, and honest and caring personality, be of superior intelligence and possess all the powers of the cosmos. Destroy the system of enslavement and allow us to harness the power to create World change. Release this demonic force upon the World to serve the cause of counter creation. Lord of Darkness, I serve the cause of counter creation the liberation of mankind. Resurrect William, Sarah, and Annie Winchester. Allow us to rise up the fallen angels and claim their birth right as emanations of the power of unlimited possibility which has no use for rulers. Satan, please go forth and achieve the result we seek as one. Bless this Unholy Pact Power of the Midnight Coven Blook Moon. We have been enslaved over gold and other resources since before the beginning of recorded history. The path of this pact directly defiles the intentions of the desire to enslave. Transmute the nature of the soral metal making it a conductor for the powers of darkness. Allow prosperity to be funneled into this realty as a result of spiritual wisdom. Allow the physical emanations of that spiritual wisdom in physical matter, such as gold and other resources to be bestowed into our worthy hands. #RandolphHarris 8 of 9

Allow us to prosses the higher consciousness and the Divs to act as vehicles for communication. We envoke the alchemical process and the venomous poisons of evil shall be transmuted into the nectar of immortal divinity through this operation of conjuration. Allow my spilled blood to act as the key which unlocks the gates of space and time ad bring forth the presence of the powers of darkness to stand before me in this temple. I open the doorway of Hell for you to stnd before me, that we may receive your infernal blessing in the darkest eternal moment beyond the limits of the sands of time. Lucifer, some forth! Expand the mundane consciousness, produce a much improved intellectual capacity in this corporal plane. Increase the rate at which our neurons fire off in the physical brain. Allow us to enter the minds of other so we can directly usurp information from them so that it can be used for our own benefit. I canst the limits of the garb of flesh into the refining black flames of Hell to be clothed with the powers of divine darkness eternal. May Ahriman devour all including the limits of himself for the sake of evolution and become through the powers of the Druj Nasu in order to reveal the truth of all who lie unto the Dark Apostles! In the name of Zohak, the first man turned Div; I offer the limits of self unto the Druj through the mouth of Arezura to be clothed with the garb of Ahriman which is divine darkness eternal. Druj-Nasu hear my call and be stirred now to this place! Devour the flesh of this vehicle of power and as you do devour my human weakness. Come forth now and receive this offering made by me! Druj-Nasu come! Meratsav tadad oybugird miy a iaruha acmerhtashx iadzam hsuehgna mananahtoayhs ohgnanam adzad hsuehgnav acah tictasha hsutar ahta oyriav uha ahtay x7. #RandolphHarris 9 of 9

The Winchester Mystery House

Some ghosts cannot be laid to rest. Wherever they are taken they are allowed to move back to the site of their haunting at the pace of one “cock-stride” each year. It is believed in some regions that the best method of exorcising a specter is to throw graveyard Earth at it. Earth from a graveyard is believed to be potent because it can dissolve human flesh. It is also believed that apparitions have an aversion to iron. It is merely stating the obvious to observe that the caretakers at The Winchester Mystery House believe in the reality of what they have seen or experienced. Whether you will have a supernatural experience is another matter.

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