I had another nightmare, the same nightmare, in fact, that had haunted me for weeks. And try as I might, I could not escape that bone chilling breath, or cacophony of illusions that always began in the Victorian gardens, then ended with a massive conflict involving weaponry too fantastic to believe. However, when I awoke, the soft breeze and soothing flower scents wafting up from the garden brought a new clarity. With a heavy sign, I turned to go back to bed, but as I was about to walk away from the balcony, there were cold and gruesome gusts, and a movement in the shadows caused me to jump. At night, a ghostly face peers from the windows and a voice asks irritably, in broken English, “Vhy tont dey come?” The deer used to come within sight of the drawing-room windows, and would browse quite close to the house. The observation tower had been producing apparition. One night, a servant who was in perfect health and spirits, and was singing and whistling up to the moment of the occurrence, was alarmed when near the dark staircase of the hall, where the sombre protraits of ancestor hung who, afflicted with a Family Cruse, step out their frames at the sound of the midnight bell. He thrust at them with his hammer, which struck the door. When on the morrow I saw the unfortunate carpenter in the main drawing room, he testified to having seen them stepping out of the painting, and being alert, and awake, and even had spoken to them. I saw the unfortunate man again on the following day, but changed beyond my recognition. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

In another day or two, the brave and steady carpenter, who usually have unshaken nerves, died—at the presence of a shadow. The carpenter was buried some days later. Whether or not the carpenter died from the effect of seeing genuine apparitions, was never known. During renovation of the tower, one of the mansions oldest sections, it was discovered that behind the painting of the ancient wall was hollow, and upon breaking the wall down, workmen were horrified to discover a room that contained the bones of a woman and a baby. The remains were quickly sent to the cemetery, but that did little to quell the restless spirits. That night we have a séance, and they woman’s ghost conveyed through the medium that they were bricked up and alive and left to die. The woman’s ghostly figure appeared. The apparition. She was holding her child as she moved around the séance room in a state of abject despair. She touched the hair of the nervous and made it bristle as she ran her phantasmal hands their locks. I perceived not how she entered; but, turning my eyes towards yonder corner of the room, I saw her standing in the same form and habit as life. I would have spoken, but had not the power of utterance. She took a little circuit round the séance room, seeming rather to swim than walk. Then suddenly, above the sound of rain and wind, there came to our ears a long low moan, which rose and fell. The medium stopped abruptly. We started to our feet. The moan was succeeded by another—louder, more prolonged, more agonizing. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

It grew in intensity, rose to a hideous shriek, then gradually died away again to a low wailing groan. Shriek followed shriek, shrill and loud—human, horribly human, as a woman in torture, yet unearthly and gruesome. My blood ran cold. The sounds grew nearer and more awful. Then distinctly we heard footsteps, slow, uncertain, and shuffling. They approached. The shrieks sounded close at hand. A clanking jingling sound, like rattling chains, jarred on our ears at each footfall. We heard one of the doors in the séance room grate back upon its hinges, light in the doorway revealed a White Lady, as a grew more piercing, she came towards us walking slowly creating a cold chill in her spectral wake. The medium’s face grew darkly flushed. She was astonished to realize that she was trembling, that a sweat had broken out all over her, and that she was glaring at the apparition as if she meant to strike her. The medium was not one to strike. It seemed latent emotion had overcome her, something inimical to the round childlike face, the clear innocent blue eyes. The medium’s lips moved as if something were just dawning on her, and then she stopped. We had opened a portal to the otherworld through which entities entered into this World. We ran through the exit into my dressing room and what we saw defied logic. There, slowly emerging from the wall was a man—or at least what had the general form and appearance of a human—dressed in blue. He wore a cap, but had no face, no distinct features of a human being. And emanating from his “being” was bluish-gray tinge. And yet, another figure—that of a woman—slowly keeping alongside the man. The eerie could move directly toward the hallway, as they faded away in an eerie blue radiance. In 1885, when workmen were excavating in the cloister, on the other side of the Séance Room, two human skeletons were uncovered, about two feet into the wall. The remains were removed. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

After years of night-duty, of patrolling the estate, one of the guards became acquainted with a Force more supernatural than burglars. In all that while the guard’s ears were assaulted by nothing more awful than demon cries. While standing near the mansion, about midnight, he saw a group of figures coming towards him along one of the walks, and they were howling with great evil. When they had advance within thirteen yards of where he was standing, the entire party of ghouls vanished. “On this particular night,” he said, “I went on duty at the east front of the mansion at ten o’clock , and had to remain there until six o’clock next morning. I was quite alone, and was standing close to the main gates, looking toward the Cupid Fountain, when suddenly I became conscious of a group of figures moving towards me. It is a most unusual thing to see anyone in the garden at that time of night, but I thought it probable that some of the servants in the mansion had gone to a party and were returning on foot. There were howling sounds and what resembled the rustling of dresses. When they reached a point about a little more than a dozen yards from me, I turned round and opened the gates to let them in. The party, however, altered their course, and headed in the direction of the fruit orchards, to the north of the garden. At the same time there was a sudden movement amongst the group; they fell into processional order, two deep, with the gentlemen at the head. Then, to my utter amazement, the whole crowd of them vanished; melted, as it seemed to me, into the air. All this happened within seven yards of where I was standing. I rushed to the spot, looked up and down, but could see nothing or hear nothing to explain the mystery.” #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

Often, works of art can, in and of themselves, invite us to experience it in a temporal way. There is a rather scandalous tell about Saint Anthony. His picture hung in the gallery, titled The Meeting of Saint Anthony and Saint Paul. At night, Saint Paul would descend from the painting at night, travel down the winding hallways of the mansion, and tap at the bedroom doors; When, if any one says “Come in,” in he comes. One of the servants, Linnaeus, suffered from severe gastric hemorrhages, a condition though to be incurable. However, because the unfortunate man endured continual hemorrhages, physicians decided to attempt an operation. Two surgeries were performed but they were unsuccessful, and when an incision on his abdomen opened, Linnaeus’s condition steadily worsened to the point where he collapsed. Desperate to attempt any new therapy, I allowed him to stay in the Crystal Bedroom, hoping that the change of air and locale might help him. However, after a week, the doctor came to check on him and said he was dying. Linnaeus recalled that had been all alone in the Crystal Bedroom when he suddenly heard a knock at the door. He said, “Come in.” He had been lying on his side when he felt someone place a hand on his abdomen. Summoning all his strength, he turned around to see who was in the room with him, and he saw Saint Paul standing beside his bed. Linnaeus recognized him easily. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

In a quiet yet authoritative voice, the ethereal image of Saint Paul, spoke words of great comfort: “Brother, you have called to me so many times, as have so many of the other servants of the Winchester, that you have torn out of my heart this miracle. But now do not fear. You are healed!” The spirit of Saint Paul then told Linnaeus to call his doctors in in the morning so that they could examine him. Just before he vanished, he told Linnaeus to go to his painting and pray. The moment the spirit of the saint disappeared, Linnaeus rose from the bed and was elated to realize he felt no pain. When he summoned the other servants and the doctors into the room, they were amazed to find that the scar on his abdomen, which had been opened and bleeding, was now completely healed. There was, in fact, no longer any scar or any other physical sign indicating that there had been a gaping wound on his abdomen just hours before. Linnaeus was not expected to survive the day, yet that evening he was up, eating supper with the other servants. The miracle healing of Linnaeus by the ghost of Saint Paul occurred in April 1890. Ever since, he has lived a healthy life. This is a phenomenon that can only be explained in a supernatural way. Although, such interventions by spiritual entities have occurred among conventional Christian, and the act is deemed a miracle; this similar phenomena was denounced as the work of the devil by orthodox clergy because I am a member of a spiritualist group. The transient materialization of benevolent spiritual beings is a universal phenomenon reported by members of all religious faith. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

The guardians and benefactors from the spirit World, often materialized to offer guidance and healing. Entities frequently move through space and time. Considerable poltergeist activity has been reported in my home with voices and footsteps regularly heard and furniture being moved substantial distances. Some have reported the unpleasant sensation of being grabbed by unseen hands while others have reported growling noises. My mansion has a thrillful reputation. It rejoices in secret passages and hiding-corners, and has a peculiarly devilish contrivance in the shape of  passage that leads directly, without warning, deep into the fields. In a stately room of my mysterious mansion was an equally mysterious masked lady. A tall, slender gentleman, with lowering and ferocious aspect, having upon him a gun, entered the room with some others, and, taking the newly-born child from her arms, without a word threw it upon a blazing fire in an ante-room and crushed it with his boot-heel into the flaming logs, so that it was entirely consumed. Soon after, he was haunted through the mansion and on the farm and roads by the apparition of a burning babe, which startled his horse so that he was flung to the ground and his neck broken. He is now, in old country lore, an apparition himself, and haunts this mansion indefinitely. The servants believe my home is also haunted by a ghost in a full suit of armor who has been witnessed at night, the light of the moon glinting off his armor, while in the maid’s room, the sound of a crying baby is often heard. Interestingly, during recent renovations to the room, the corpse of a baby wrapped in linen fell from the ceiling, its bones were charred and fractured, which led some to suspect that the baby was the source of the crying. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

The era of haunted houses has long been on the wane, lost to an age which thinks it knows so much more than was known two centuries ago, therefore presumes that it has arrived at a complete knowledge of all there is to know in Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Talk of spirits has become known as “foolishness.” In times such as these, when the traditional Angel topper on the Christmas tree has been banished, and the time-honored, hair-raising stories of ghosts, told by the flicker fire before the lights are lit, no longer a delightfully appetizing prelude to the Christmas dinner; nor, later, send the guests to bed with raw nerves that jump at every shadow. It is a little unfortunate that much of the appropriate setting of ghost stories has been destroyed. There are many blood-curdling legends, but their native homes have largely been demolished, and in some cases rebuilt; and ghosts do not very appropriately haunt houses less than a hundred years old. You require, for the instillation of a ghost, a manor-house, with wine-cellars, a butler, old family portraits (not necessarily those of your own family), and if you can manage mahogany paneling and tapestry hangings so much the better. In the ideal haunted house, the guest, primed with ancestral horror, went to bed with apprehension, leaving the warm dining-room for some vast woebegone chamber, with a like a catafalque and hangings of a bygone age; with mysterious cupboards, and secret passageways, in which a dozen family skeletons might reside, and with a floor whose every board had a separate and distinctive squeak.

Manor-houses we have still with us, but their number, as compared with the myriads of newly built “villas” in the suburbs, is woefully small. You cannot hope to find the ghost of  kitchen maid who fell to her death while carrying a tray of food, nor her ghostly piercing screams. The strange foot steps around the staircase area attributed to the ghostly head cook Maude are absent. In the keep of these new villas the ghost of an unknown woman cannot be heard humming, and there will never been an occasion to witness an apparition standing at the bottom of the stairs. This is very sad, for a family ghost is a possession that in these times, when antiquities are prized, would be greatly welcomed by many estimable folk. The Uncanny and the Inexplicable, seated invisible (but yet making their presence felt) by the hearthstone, would themselves get a cachet of respectability, or, at least, of long descent, to a domestic circle; and so long as they did not play their ghostly parts so earnestly as to send the servants into hysterics and render the house uninhabitable, would thus be prized possession. There would be nothing, for example, to fear from the gentle spook or spooks who, on the impeccable authority of Mrs. Sarah L. Winchester, used to share residence of The Winchester Mansion, and only make its, or their presence known by stertorous breathings, rustlings, and scratchings, and by stroking the heads of servants who at last grew quite familiar with, and unafraid of, it and used to call it pet names! Ghost of this kind are the low comedians of the spirit World. Omnipotens sempiterne deus adesto magna pietatis tue misteriis, adesto piss invocationibus nostris ut speculum istud quod in tuo nominee bene dicere facto. Desu qui hooc speculum ex materia fragili. Discendat in hoc speculum virtus spiritus sancti. Discendat in hoc speculum ut supra.

There is more in Heaven and Earth than is dreamt of in The Winchester Mystery House. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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It must have been years since I had walked back to this wing of my great massive house. It was born more grand, of masonry and trimmed in very fancy ironwork. The classic center hall with the twin parlors on either side; in these rooms the decorative energy come from the square and rectangular shape panels of varied materials that make up the wall surface rather than from the arrangement of discrete objects. The result is a mosaic of shapes held together tenuously in a plane, conveying an implication of flux not found in most of the rest of the mansion. I love the partially covered parquet floors; the three-part walls consisting of strong dark wainscoting, with a middle neutral ground of paper, brocade and leather, and the decorated frieze at the top; the ceiling are paneled in dark wood, and some are finished in plaster; with brass sconces and crystal chandeliers; along with centered, shelf-supporting overmantel with tiles below; there are fine woods and superior wood carving; exquisite hangings of plush and velvet; heavy embroidered portieres; firm but appealing colors—crimson, dead gold, bronze; stamped leather chairs, and on the walls original oil paintings by familiar names of the modern French, German, Spanish, and Italian schools. Although these homogeneous interiors are dark, because of the mahogany paneling, the light that does enter does not lift these interiors but bounces from the exquisitely finished surfaces of the wood and from the scores of well-crafted objects within the parlors. The reflected lights from these objects compete with one another and with the glistening surface panels. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

The chandeliers of these parlors were small, not decorated with gold like the Baccarats of the hall. They only had crystal and glass. I had played the organ in the dark, on winter nights. With the fireplace blazing, I tried and tried to make music. My vision was blurred. The words had been torn from my heart. Playing for spectators, of passing invisible though walls and then coming alive in lurid flaming splendor. That is when a dark-haired, long-robed entity materialized before me. Looking at me, his hair falling down dark and straight on both sides. The two small braids had come undone and mixed now with the longer locks, loose and shining. He broke down on me with all his powers to fright. However, it only brought some old actor’s beauty to mind. His sharp nose and enthralling eyes, he had the dark beauty of George Berrell. I believed him to be the ghost of a Native American. The ghostly adviser told me he had been at my side since I was a school girl. “I know you better than you know yourself,” the spirit chided me. The vapor that surrounded the ghost glowed with a surging life. My ears rand with the roars of the gun shots, the shouts and cries of million who had become locked in mortal combat. Above the sounds of strife, the mysterious voice admonished me to “look and learn.” A vision of my mansion manifested with carpenters expanding the back of my home, and the darkness, ghouls, ghosts, and demons suddenly vanished. As miserable and depressing as conditions could be, the spirit being vanished. I was revitalized in body, mind, and spirit. I rose from my organ, stood motionless. The music moved on. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

 Convinced that I had seen a vision of what I was to build, I was filled with renewed conviction that I would defeat the curse of the Winchester Rifle. Immediately, I had these rooms sealed up and gave the carpenters blueprints of what they were to build. They quickly got to work with their gold-plated hammers. I opened the back doors of the room to the dining room. I could see straight through it and out the back windows of the house, and there the tall cherry laurels were lighted against the pergola, bright leaves, moving as if there were a wind, and I had not—in this big house, haunted as it might be, had not even noticed the wind. Now I heard it tapping the panes, and creeping beneath the floors. Workers complained about strange noises coming from nowhere out in the fruit orchards—orders being shouted by unseen men; bugle calls from invisible instruments; drum cadences tapped out by long dead drummer boys; the strange, hideous thud of lead against flesh, echoes of horrified screams of human beings being slaughtered. Farmers scouted half a dozen miles ahead without seeing any living thing. They kept their Winchesters close and did not shuck anything but their hats. That’s how men lived to the ripe old age of thirty-five on the frontier. But then, on their way back to the mansion, what they beheld sent chills at a fast gallop up their spines. The landscape was alive with Indians! Several figures were silhouetted against a roaring fire about 100 yards from the fruit orchard. The majority of the figures were recognizable as Native American men dressed only in breechcloths. They spoke a language unknown to the farmers. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

When they realized they were hearing Spanish, the farmers rubbed their eyes to make sure they were not seeing an illusion, for there, sitting around a campfire on the estate, were men adorn in the armor of Spanish conquistadores. Lord amighty,” Jones groaned, “there must be five hundred.” “Don’t nobody pull a gun,” said Johnny. “We’re at their mercy.” The conquistadores began to advance toward the farmers, in a blink of an eye the fire went out and the conquistadores completely dematerialized. The next morning, greatly intrigued by the provocative experience, the farmers went out to the fields, three trees they had seen the night before were gone. By nine o’clock, the carpenters were heading home. As they grabbed their tools and were walking down the hallway, they found that their single path suddenly branched out into three. Confused, and believing they had somehow gotten off the main path, they decided they would ask two housemaids who were walking just ahead of them. The women were able to direct the men back to the hallway that led down stairs and out of the mansion. However, that hallway ended abruptly when another hallway intersected it at an angle and led in a different direction. They knew the hallways seemed like a dividing line between sections of patchwork quilt; it chopped off the oak floors they had been walking on. The rooms on the other side of the hallway looked different than anything that had seen before in the mansion. They looked like a dungeon from a 16^th century castle. Stone walls, no windows, and chains hanging from the ceiling. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

The men walked though these rooms and into another hallway. There were stained glass windows and light streaming through, creating cascades of color on the walls, floors, and ceiling. But no more than what seemed like an hour ago, it was night outside. The men also noticed they cast no shadow. Then they aw a man who was sitting with his back turned to them. As the carpenters approached this man, he turned toward them and they gasped at the sight of his face. His countenance was dark, his face was bleeding, and his mouth dropped like a Greek mask of tragedy, revealing an appearance of decay and evil that could not be concealed by staring, sightless eyes. The carpenters were so stricken by this sight that they did not see the other man until he called to them. The gentlemen composed themselves and asked him for directions. As he pointed the way, he spoke with an accent that none of the carpenters grasped. They thanked him, nevertheless. At once the man ran off, disappearing out of a door on the second floor with no stairs. But still the carpenters heard the sound of his running food steps. They started off in the direction their mysterious guide had indicted. Hurrying along a new, narrow hallway, with tiny stairs, that zig zagged, the men finally found themselves near an exit. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

However, a door slammed, and a young man dressed for kitchen work stood before them. He carried a brook and seemed to have stepped out to shake the dust from it. He seemed as surprised by the presence of the carpenters as they were of his. He asked if they were lost. The carpenters refused his offer to show them the way and made their way outside, where they found a wedding in progress. As they stood among the cheerful celebrants of marriage, they carpenters felt a cloud of depression hand been following them. As they wandered the grounds of the estate, the wooded areas closed in around them, the conversation began again, but it seemed the deeper into the woods they got, the further away the sound moved, always staying the same distance from them. Once again, they saw the darkness deepen. The same depression they had felt descended upon them with a cold rain. They puzzled over the activity of men harvesting fruit. Glancing behind them for a moment, when the carpenters looked back the farmers and their wheel barrels were nowhere in sight. Then, an agonized scream pierced the cold darkness of the woods; then sobbing; then a distinctive voice shouting, “Get up, get up, go! Go!” They slowed their walk into the woods, but continued forward, fascinated by and fearful of where they were headed. The horrible screams continued as well as the sobbing. Then a voice called out, “Charge!” The carpenters looked at each other, confirming that each had heard it. They were hoping to get out of this other-Worldly place as quickly as possible. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

The clouds seem to lower and the rain became very dense. Grayness was everywhere. Phantom shadows flung here and there and the ground itself appeared to dissolve in grayness and ooze. Fear had some, the dull terrible misery of dread; gloom consumed all hope. The carpenters heard metal rattling. Thankfully, they reached a clearing with a huge rock in the middle of it. Suddenly there was a loud “crack” to their right. They looked, but saw nothing. And now, it seemed, they had entered into a realm of the supernatural. Though they still could not see any people from who the voices came, the immediate area in which they were standing began to glow, and was illuminated by an odd blue light. The men were cold and shaking uncontrollably. They desperately tried to find their way back to the mansion. After two weeks had passed, no one had seen hide nor hair of them. I was betwixt by telegrams from the families asking if I knew of their whereabouts. I just assumed they quit. Later that evening, there was a curious carriage constructed of bones, driven by a headless driver, seen leaving the fields. The room was filled with a deathly silence. A chill swept over me, and I felt as though I was not alone. For some reason, I opened the drapes. That is when I saw the apparition. Outside of my window, so close that it seemed as if I might be able to touch them if I raised the glass, was a brightly painted Indian on his spirited mount. The warrior bent low over the flying black mane of his horse and looked neither to the right nor to the left. He seemed to be mouthing words of encouragement to the phantom mustang. There was a shimmering light around them. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

People have reported hearing the ghostly sound of horse’s hooves, and visitors have often reported the sounds of children’s laughter from empty rooms. A number of staff have been alarmed by the appearance of a ghostly women around midnight in the room where Mrs. Winchester said her last good-bye.

She suddenly appears by the window, gazing forlornly out at the night sky before turning and walking slowly to the bed where she lies down and clutches her stomach, writhing in apparent agony. Another female figure is also said to appear in the room and stands at the bedside. Investigators have suggested that the woman in pain may have been poisoned sometime in the past and the other woman is a maid, nursing her through her last painful hours. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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There was no one about. Cold rain, a rain worse to me than snow, was falling heavily and loudly.  I stood watching it fall. There was a great hum, as if this mansion was alive. While I gazed, a feeling of intense cold seized me. An iceberg before me could not more have chilled. I was convinced that it was not the cold caused by fear. As I continued to gaze, I thought that I distinguished two eyes looking down on me. One moment I fancied that I distinguished them clearly, the next they seemed gone; but still two rays of pale-blue light frequently shot through the darkness, as from the height on which I half believed, half doubted, that I had encountered the eyes. I strove to speak—my voice utterly failed me; I could only think to myself, “is this fear? it is not fear! I attempted to rise—in vain, I felt weighed down by an irresistible force. This overwhelming Power opposed any volition I could make. At last, horror—horror to a degree that no words can convey. The light began to slowly wane from the candles; they were not, as it were, extinguished, but their flame seemed, very gradually withdrawn; it was the same with the fire—light was extracted from the fuel; in a few moments the room was in utter darkness. I felt a great sense of dread being in this dark room with something whose power was so intensely strong. I found the strength to rise from my chair. I could see a dim shadow against the opposite wall. Suddenly I saw him directly above me, his eyes huge, his dark robes swirling about him—and in that instant I felt the whole room vibrate sensibly; and at the far end there rose, the ghastly shape of death. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

On it my eyes were intently fixed, till the eyes grew out of the shadow—malignant, serpent eyes. I felt the clutch of cold soft fingers at my throat. If I gave way to fear, I knew I would be in bodily peril; and I concentrated all my faculties in the single focus of resisting. I turned my sight from the shadow—above all, from those strange serpent eyes. The atmosphere began to redden as if in the air of some near conflagration. A rumbled rolled over the moonlit room, a faint and horrible sound seem to rise out of the Earth itself everywhere; a great sigh seeping from the corners and crannies in my home. A great blast of icy wind froze my skin so that I was aware of every dimension of my body: cold face, cold hands, cold limbs. Outside, I could hear the thundering of carriages and plumed horses galloping before it. Now and then a violent shudder swept over me, stopping me, lifting me for the moment off the balls of my feet so that I would sink down, disoriented. Gradually, all things were shallowed up in the darkness of the murky shadow, as if out of that obscurity all had come, into that darkness all returned. As the gloom recede, the shadow was gone. Slowly as it had been withdrawn, in the fire place the oak and kindling roared into a flame again, light returned to the candles on the table. Nothing changed for the rest of the night. Nor, indeed, had I long to wait before the dawn broke. Though the oppressive air that saturated the house had been lifted, I still felt, as I stood on the floor, the creep of the horror which I had experienced the night before. As I was descending the stairs, I heard a footfall before me. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

As I opened the door to the parlor, I could distinguish a low laugh. I expected to find a servant playing games, but no one presented themselves. The sitting-rooms were large and cheerful and they and the bedrooms more than ordinarily lofty, the kitchen and servants’ rooms, on the same level, were well and comfortably furnished. The candle had been distinguished, and I was coming up stairs. I had already dismissed my maid, when I was startled by an unnaturally tall figure standing in the library. The light was too faint to enable me to define anything respecting this apparition. A wave of sickness overcame me. I felt something brush close to my left side, and then I was thrown a short distance. The strange, hazy mist levitated slowly across the library, from one side to the other at least ten to twelve times. The pain in my face and in my ears and in my hands was unbearable. How many hours passed, I did not know. When I climbed to my feet, I did so slowly. My hair was a mass of tangles and knots. I shook myself all over. It felt good to be standing on the warm floor. Electric light was streaming through the door way. Something was creeping slowly toward me along the floor. It was something dark and serpentine in shape. I stooped down to examine it with feeling of intense horror and repugnance, and discovered that it was moving toward me from the other side of the wall. My eyes were fascinated, and for the moment I was unable to move. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

Silently, slowly, from side to side like a thick worm, it crawled forward into the room beneath my frightened eyes, until at length I could stand it no longer, I would not permit it to prey upon me. The passage to the next room was locked. I pushed it as hard as I could and the lock gave way. I fell headlong into the room that was pitch dark and very cold. In a moment I was on my feet again trying to penetrate the blackness Not a sound, not a movement. Not even the sense of a presence. I stood there shivering, cold as ice, starting, shivering listening. Suddenly there was a step behind me and a light flashed into the room, and when I turned quickly with my arm up as if to ward off a terrific blow. Countless thoughts crowded into my head. What was really going on here? No one knew what it was like to witness such horrors. Imagine it. Imagine a house gradually awakening to its own contours as an entity, an entity struggling to grasp that it is possessed by spiritual beings…and besieged by what it can hear but not see and then see but not comprehend….amid a cacophony of vices that never ceased speaking. Imagine living in such a house. Almost every type of haunting phenomena has been observed or encountered in this mansion. Footsteps have been heard in the master bedroom and on the stairs. Windows, even when fastened down with three or four-inch bolts, have mysteriously opened in the middle of the night. There is often the aroma of food being prepared in the kitchens, when no one is around. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

Screams are frequently heard echoing through upstairs rooms; girlish giggles and rattling of doorknobs are also commonplace. Numerous servants have seen a man hanging from a scaffold on the south side of the mansion. The house is very much alive. Blood. Cold blood. Powerful blood has created this web of spectral energy. It is a formidable place and the walls cast long ominous shadows, which suggest a particularly tragic past. And in this case, the walls do not lie; the mansion dose not disappoint in this regard. Now the Heavens spread out in all their indescribable beauty before me, the stars like diamonds everywhere that I look, diamonds of inexpressible brilliance, shining like gifts in the great black vault of Heaven, gifts from whom or what we may never know. But if there ever was hell on Earth, it was in this mansion. Some evenings, the floors are slick with phantom blood and gore. Wounded ghosts sit along the hallways, doors are magically taken off the hinges. Dark dreams seem to plague sleepers, which have resulted in some staff members vanishing in the middle of the night—with no explanation. Some people want to identify who these ghosts are. However, does it really matter? I bear the Curse of the Winchester Rifle, and I claim no great power for this mighty deed. Preternatural voices sing acclamation in the Grand Ball Room, as blood tears fall from the ceiling. The undead are utterly alive. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

ASTRACHISO, ASACH, ASARCA, ABEDUMABAL, SLLAT, ANABOTAS, JESUBILIN, SCIOIN, DOMOL, Lord God, who dwellest above the Heavens, whose glance searchest the abyss; great me, I pray Thee, the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end of which I would attain by Thy help, O God Almighty, who livest and reignest for ever and ever. I do conjure thee, O thou Spirit Shan and your 30 Legions of Spirits, by all the most glorious and efficacious names of the MOST GREAT AND INCOMPREHENIBLE LORD GOD OF HOSTS, that thou comest quickly and without delay from all parts and places of the Earth and World wherever thou mayest be, to make rational answers unto my demands, and that visibly affably, speaking with a voice intelligible unto mine understanding as aforesaid. Emperor Lucifer, Master and Prince of Rebellious Spirits, I adjure thee to leave thine abode, in whatsoever quarter of the World it may be situated, and come hither to communicate with me. I command and I conjure three in the Name of the Mighty living God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, in addition by these seven great names wherewith Solomon the Wise bound thee and thy companions in a Vessel of Brass, ADONAI, PREYAI, or PRERAI, TETRAGRAMMATON, ANAPHAXETON or ANAPHENETON, INESSENFATOAL or INESSENFTALL, PATHTUMON or PATHATUMON, and ITEMON; that thou appearest here in this mansion to fulfill my will in all things that seem good unto me. You have brought forth the beasts to the field and the creatures of the night! Ahriman with your infernal blessing I ask that you would bring forth the baneful powers of the Wolf kin to fill this oil with their essence that it may be compelled according to my will! #RandolphHarris 6 of 6

The Winchester Mystery House

A materialized ghost may seem as solid as any human. Modern science no longer regards as “solid”; rather, they are understood to be congealed wave patterns. The whole imposing array of subatomic particles—electrons, protons, positrons, neutrino, mesons—achieve particle-like characteristics in a manner similar to the way that wave patterns in tones and overtones produce characteristic sounds.

Ghosts may be made up of transitory, emergent matter that appears and disappears. This matter “can sometimes be seen and felt before disappearing. It behaves like ordinary matter but still has no permanent existence in the framework of our conception of space and time. In fact, after it transitory manifestation, it seems to be absorbed back into another dimension or dimensions. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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The dawn broke clear and cold, with the sky so intensely blue, the eyes ached, just looking at it. The wind had died, and when the sun rose in golden splendor, its warmth came as a welcome surprise. My home rose in the most delicate and fantastic beauty, and mirrors a dream of richness, pride, and opulence found only in a fairytale. The size is probably unequaled by that of any other edifice in the valley. It is a house known for its artistic treasures, and is easily the most interesting private residence. With the fanciful gingerbread clapboard, multiple planes, balconies, high, gabled roofs, its dizzying array of towers, turrets, and bay windows crowned by finials; gables, cupolas, cornice, spindles, columned portico, pediments, verandas, overhangs, handmade shingles, crests on the roof, domers, and projections, all accompanied by its decorative trim add to the free spirit of Victorian architecture and reflect the moral rectitude and values of the population. The steeply pitched roofs hearken the High Victorian Gothic architecture. Due to the myriad of vertical, diagonal, and horizontal wooden pieces, on the exterior, some believed that English architect and writer Charles Eastlake produced this home. However, its characteristics are more clandestine than one could possibly imagine. The detailing is certainly reminiscent of rustic European architecture. The Brilliant color green was not only selected for it is pleasing to the eye, but for its restful and calming nature. It also introduces color into the landscape, symbolizing prosperity and fertility. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

The inspiration for such magnificent edifices has virtually no precedent in America; it came instead from the Old-World sources. Sufficient it is now to say that uniformity is the last thing on Earth sought after.  The cornice and veranda are of contrasting shade with the body of the house, while the shutters have a darker tint. The half-timbered motif and symmetrical Renaissance designs embrace the reign of Queen Anne during the 1702-14 era. The architecture is riddled with the shadows of centuries of secrets, forbidden thoughts, psychological romances, which ramble through the labyrinth. The front doors, which welcome guests into the parlor, are made of Santo Domingo mahogany and are emblazoned by art glass windows, giving the allure of encrusted jewels. This catches more of the spirit for the grand drama and noble ceremonies. Cabinetmaker John Henry Belter produced the balloon-shaped chair and sofa with curving edges and detailed carving, it the Louis XV manner, which went along perfectly with the two corner tables supported by gilt cupids. The Sevres vases glisten from the wall-cabinets, genuine Persian rugs of the finest quality and color, and rare old hangings of velours. Heavens, my husband would never forgive me for paying two hundred and fifty thousand dollars last year for an old sliver goblet, but it is part of the motif that makes this a luxurious nook of the house. As guests go up the beautiful mahogany stairs and pass along the gallery, looking down on a hall such as few palaces contain…it puts them in mind of a scene of the most royal and impressive Baroque masterpieces. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

Goblin tapestries have been brought from France by my ancestors. There are rare and costly pieces of Dutch marquetry, doors of rare East Indian wood, Limoges enamel of extremely rare and exquisite workmanship. The many skylights, not only allow for air and light to flow through the home, but also to give it the feeling of a moonlight ride in a gondola, while Heavenly music flows from the Grand Ball Room. The creatively shaped rooms and appendages of the house fully represent the expanding and diverse nature of American life. Furniture has been imported from Europe, and the Grand Ball Room, made of rosewood, white mahogany, teak, maple and oak, resemble an entire apartment from a palace in Belgium. The Murano chandeliers were replaced by a handmade silver chandelier from Germany.  Of course, I searched beyond Europe to find furniture in Morocco, hangings in turkey, bowls on Mount of Olives and fans in Japan. The artistic unity of my World travel has been dedicated to acquisitive journeys for creating a museum of find the finest artifacts. This home is state of the art, with 13 bathrooms, indoor water closets and hot air furnaces. Nine kitchens, 47 fireplaces, secret passage ways, a nine-story tower, custom made stairs and some of the most creative features the mind can thing. Of course, I have some of the most creative architects. The final gallery culminates with a couple of the finest collections: James Tissot’s splendid oil painting October, featuring an elegant young lady tucked amongst golden autumn foliage, and the hypnotic stare of the little girl in William Bouguereau’s Crown of Flowers. On the opposite side of the elevators from these are two small galleries, the first of which displays a fine collection of Impressionist pieces by Monet, Cezanne, Sisley, and a gloomy Degas along three Renoirs, whose Vase of Flowers overflows with vibrant colors. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

Rodin’s bronze, The Call of Arms, grabs attention in the center of the room away from the cool forms of his white marble sculpture of The Sirens. The second gallery here hosts art which stands-out by Philippe de Champaigne, Edouard Manet, Diego Velazquez, and Jacques-Louis David, whose The Oath of the Horatii turns one’s face towards the Horatii, the three sons of Horatius of Rome, and shows them swearing before their father to fight to the death of the Curatii, the three sons of Curatius, who have been picked to represent Rome’s enemy, the Albans. And behind the proud father, the women weep. A table made from ebony that had been imported from Africa, and six Italian chairs carved from the same piece of mahogany, along with two white-oak chairs that would not break if thrown from the fourth-floor balcony, were in one of the several dining room, which the frequent pleasant little dinner-parties of four to six couples, where held. The entertaining, and conversation was general, which made my new home the key to serenity and delight. My guests were served caviar, truffles, and pheasant stuffed with pate on gold plates. Bringing together the whole little community were enjoyable amateur dramatic performances, followed by light refreshment and a couple hours’ dancing. My husband had been the owner of one of the most magnificent steam yachts afloat and was a constant party giver. Of course, the resulting satisfaction was continued focus on his business. If man of wealth had any obligation to society, that responsibility was pure and simple efficiency in business. Men who were in the midst of creating their own fortunes, business success was the focus of their entire lives. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

However, when it came to the Winchester rifle, “The Gun that Won the West,” to a cowman, outlaw, peace officer or soldier, the Winchester was a treasured possession. A man would sell his soul to own one. William had become a recognized model for the strict, no-frills businessman who never borrowed or speculated, who kept all transactions on a cash basis, who held all his associates to a strict meeting of obligations, and who spared no energy from the affairs of his own firm. In this light, Mr. Winchester embodied the virtues that men of wealth respected. My husband was an adequate model of an upper class that welcome wider responsibilities. He bought out and absorbed competitors, improved his products, while at the same time gaining control over the suppliers and distributors. As the foremost public responsibility of the man of wealth was capable management of his own firm, charitable giving followed soon after. And William certainly accepted the obligation, “I consider it just as much my duty to give to benevolent institutions as to pay my butcher’s bill,” he would say. One of his favorite charities, amongst several, was the Winchester Clinic of the General Hospital Society of Connecticut, for the care and treatment of treatment of tuberculosis patients. He also honored Anglo-American literature and aided the poor and printing workers locally. As well as building parks, and teaching low-income workers to save money and become property owners. The rich, the happy the cultured, are put under a conscious moral servitude to every form of distress and accept it with great honor. After the death of my husband, I made it my mission in life to build the most beautiful, orderly, and harmonious house which blossomed out of the most perfect art. The best artists I could find contributed the creations of their genius to the adornment of my home in many other shapes than in that of the oil paintings and in a gilt frame. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

The most genuine and best mahogany was used creating the stairs, paneling the walls, ceilings, floors and for the fireplace mantels, and the inlaid paneling, painted friezes, rosewood tables, porcelain vases, silver tea sets, brocaded walls, stained-glass windows, and  paintings brought this 600-room mansion alive with the decorative artists movement. However, all this seemed of little importance after six renegades appeared so suddenly. Four housemaids were so startled that they were speechless. Not a word was spoken as the men dismounted. The women were seized, and each was clubbed unconscious with the muzzle of a revolver. Without regard to the cruel horn, each of the women was flung belly-down across a saddle with one of the renegades mounted behind her. The renegades rode off taking the women as captives. I have never seen anything so mournful, so terrifying. The farmers believed it to be a means of drawing some of the men away, so they could attack the mansion. That is when much of the recorded activity began. In the weeks after, strange, loud, indescribable noises began to emanate from the walls and servants felt cold flashes in the house. One December evening, a housemaid was in the attic. Although she was alone in the house, she distinctly heard a voice say, “No, don’t do it!” Then there was a pause, then “Stop!” She called downstairs to see if the carpenters or myself had returned, but got to answer. A few seconds later, the frantic voice came again calling, “Stop!” Although the house was closed up against the cold December breezes, two doors on the floor below slammed shut. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

A few weeks later, one of the house maids was napping in the afternoon with the shades drawn. She awoke in semidarkness to see what she described as a lady sitting in her rocking chair at the end of her bed, wearing a long, dress with long sleeves and hair done up in a bun. The housemaid gathered enough courage to test the apparition, or perhaps to test her own sanity She asked, “If there is anyone in here besides myself, knock twice.” Silence. She started to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, from somewhere in the room, she heard two, distinct knocks. Again, she asked the question, again no response—just the image of a lady in her rocking chair not four feet from her. the image. Then, after a moment, the apparition slowly faded away into nothingness. She sprinted downstairs, and though the servants tried to calm her down by telling her it was a dream, she knew that she had been fully awake—she had been talking and heard at least one response to her question. The housemaid checked the clock and decided that she would nap for a bit before she returned to work. “I couldn’t have slept more than 30 minutes when I felt what I knew to be the touch of one of the missing women’s lips on my cheek,” she said. “It was a kiss of such sweetness and love that it could only have come from one of them. I opened my eyes and sat up. I had left a small lamp on in the room, and there, in the dim light, I could distinguish a kind of mist that had assumed human shape. Although I could not make out any distinct features, I knew it was one of the missing housemaids I felt a strong emanation of pure love flowing to me from the vaporous form. Then it floated out of sight through the ceiling.” The four women had been found nearly 200 miles away. They had succumbed to their injuries. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

Throughout the rest of the Winter, strange, unexplainable events continued to occur. Footsteps of an army marching in the rooms could be heard; periodically a whiff of flowery perfume; the front doors would shake violently with no one there. And there were the sightings—one housemaid saw the reflection of a black blob behind her, passing through the closed door of her room and into the hallway. This was possibly one of the shadow people. A male apparition was seen on the first floor, and periodically a water facet was found running in the tub when no one had turned it on. On morning, I was awakened at 2 A.M. by the sound of a large number of horses trotting by the house, but there was no one outside. At that moment, I knew my home was truly haunted. The lawmen hunted down a dozen outlaws and gunned them down. Two immediately five immediately perished. Four of those who rode away were hit. My path led through one of the strange uncanny wildernesses. And then, a I peered, curiously, a new terror came to me; for away among the dim peaks to my right I had descried a vast shape of blackness, giantlike. It grew upon my sight. It had an enormous equine head, with gigantic ears, and seem to peer steadfastly down from the second floor. There was that about the pose that gave me the impression of an eternal watchfulness—of having warded through unknown eternities. Slowly the monster became plainer to me, and I gazed fearfully. I was strangely conscious of something not altogether familiar to me. I was afraid that this creature would devour me, ravenously. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

The Winchester Mystery House

Strange disembodied voices and cold spots have been reported as well as strange lights that seem to have a mind of their own. There are also the apparitions of four ladies wearing white dresses and that of a soldier. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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The wisteria had grown enormously. Its trunks were not wooden and now quite thick. And the great stretch of lawn was plush and emerald green, the old boxwood hedges were growing tall. I loved it. I loved the old trellis in the back, leaning under the burden of tangled vines. And that is where the shadow always stood. The figure appeared frozen, wide-eyed, violently alert, and focused on my home. The emptiness was terrifying. This darkness troubled me. The silence was so deep. I was so alone in this dark abyss. My heart was knocking against my ribs threatening to break inside of me. A hand reached out, no more than a streak of white in the shadows. I opened my eyes and closed them. Only to find myself gazing into the darkness that extended to infinity in all directions, yet it was confining as a prison. I had long kept my spiritual hungers and physical hungers completely separated. I had been buried alive by demonic energy in my own mansion, yet I was free to move around as I pleased. It is ominous. Its very perfection is unnatural, the silence not of deserted places, but of an ancient, hidden evil. Nothing could efface the shame and guilt I felt for having burdened my soul with these mysterious problems that were just about more than I could handle. The antiques, the art, numerous collections, china, stained glass windows, sliver, solid gold dinner service, were tempting to larcenous souls. But the various shades of darkness frightened away humanity. These phantoms were not in my imagination. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7

In the morning when I awoke, I could not stay alone in this house. William had left his warm imprint on everything. I could hear the timbre of his voice, his laughter, see his enormous blue eyes looking at me lovingly, and feel his hands upon my shoulders. I could hear the cry of our daughter, and smell the sweet scent of lilac on her skin, but they were long gone. I was not dreaming. I could find no explanation for what I felt. A delicious thrill passed through my body. Something moved in the corner of my eye. I did not turn to stare at it. I could not move at all, but was unable to suppress my cry of horror.  It sounded loud and terrible in this empty house. The immense panes of glass rattled. My stomach muscles were fluttering and skin clammy with cold sweat. I felt dizzy. It seemed as if I was actually two beings—one, the main part of me, was concealed somewhere deep within; the other, my physical body, was external and less significant. I was being drawn somewhere by an irresistible force. Very slowly I turned my head and looked behind. I could see my physical body lying there on the floor in the dark parlor. Suddenly, I was surrounded by a throng of hideous beings, evil spirits who looked at me with iron-cold fury. My shattered spirit was beseeched with sadness. This was some form of illusion I thought. But their dark eyes looked at me with suspicion. Furious at my defenselessness against these demons, I drifted down into a profound slumber. What must have been several hours later, as I sat down at the dinner table, I saw, sitting opposite of me, an exact replica of myself. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7

This astonishing doppelganger repeated every move I made during the course of the meal. I reached out to touch the double and the image reached out to touch me. I could actually it touching me. This spectral woman then got up and moved against the lace curtains. Unprepared and quite enthralled, I was quite enchanted by her face. Her glittering eyes had an uncommon depth. They were almost as haunting as mine with a childlike vulnerability, a winsomeness. She was wearing a sapphire-blue silk dress and a pair of supple elbow-length gloves. The sweet scent of fine perfume came wafting ethereally toward me. It was one of my favorite scents. She was quite a vision. Her hair black was brought up and back from her forehead to descend in deep waves on either side of her temples before being swept to the wreath of braids behind her head. These brains were exquisitely threaded with pearls, and diamonds dangled from the pendants in the lobes of hear ears. She was an ornament that only a goddess possess. Then that gorgeous aura went transparent and dissipated. I was scared. I went into the crystal bedroom, locked the door behind me, locked the door of the closet, and closed the door of the bathroom. After fluffing the pillows on my bed, I placed a revolver under than. A ghost, I thought. I lay there snuggling into the warm pillows, in my dimly lit bedroom, I pulled the quilt over my head until I fell into an exhausted sleep. Many often wondered how I could have changed so little over the years? How could I be there one moment and gone the next? #RandolphHarris 3 of 7

As I have said, my home is a center for a lot of ghostly phenomena, such as doors opening and closing, the footsteps of unseen guests, and the manifestation of spectral beings. When the first light came in the morning, on the eastern horizon, tendrils of gold would creep across the gray Heavens. The rattle of wagons could be heard for a great distance in the early morning air. One morning, I got an odd story from a carpenter, who assured me he did not believe in ghosts. The carpenter, Jones, explained that he had been outside on the porch, cutting interior trim. Jones said that he approached the door and started adjusting the load. Suddenly, the door swung open on its own. Jones stepped into the kitchen and turned to close the door, but instead, the door closed on it own. Jones had such a stimulating and delightful day, and he felt he could work through the night. About seven o’clock, he was working in the basement when he glimpsed something white on the table in front of him. Upon closer examination, the object proved to be a large, extremely pale hand with dark blue veins across its back. Putting his saw and wood down, Jones turned around and was surprised to see a tall, solidly built man, who seemed to be studying his tools. The man seemed completely unaware of his presence. Jones never imagined than man to be anything than another carpenter, but he thought it was most peculiar that he had not met this carpenter before. How had the man entered the basement and be working at the same table so silently? It was not until then man vanished before his eyes that Jones realized he had been visited by a ghost. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7

There was more to it than that. Jones still had to tend to the mules, and fill the water kegs, so they could take them to other workers who were miles away on the estate. He walked over to the stables where he met with Hicks. “They’re stubborn varmints,” said Jones, “but they’re smart enough not to drink until they’ve cooled off enough not to founder. A damn shame horses don’t have that kind of smarts.” “Yeah,” Hicks replied. “You’d better tie that jug-head of mine to a wagon bow, or he’ll slide into a ditch. By the time we get the teams unharnessed, they should be ready to drink.” Swiftly they unharnessed the mules, and by the time the animals had drunk their fill, Hick’s horse had rested enough to drink safely. “Now”, said Jones, “Let’s hitch up the mules, back this wagon as near the water as we can, and fill those water kegs.” They were soon sweating, wrestling the filled kegs into the wagon. Finally, there were only the empty kegs mounted on either side of the wagon box. “Some of the best water I ever tasted come out of Mrs. Winchester’s well,” said Hicks. Despite it being late September, the sun was hot, and they were forced to rest. “I believe we’ll meet our outfit before sundown,” said Jones. “Maybe,” said Hicks, “but if we don’t, we’ll have to keep goin’ until we do, because they’ll be hurtin’ for water. Slowly the sun slipped toward the western horizon, and when it was but an echo of dusty rose, Jones and Hicks stopped to rest the teams. Quickly the Earth cooled, as a breeze crept in from the northwest, caressing their sweaty faces. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7

They listened, for the wind could also bring the welcome rattle of approaching wagons. However, they heard nothing. Wearily they resumed their journey, as the first twinkling stars became distant point of silver in the purple vastness of the Heavens.  Down came a shower of black dust, as if the sky had commenced raining gunpowder! The atmosphere was as hot as the inside of an oven. The wagons rumbled to a halt. The sweating mules stood there in their harness, too scared to move. Their sweating hides trembled. Hicks got down from the wagon, and seized his Winchester, when something unnatural seeming—holds him in spot. It was then the strange apparition was most closely scrutinized; Jones was shivering in his stirrups—through sheer terror, incapable even of though! And after gazing a moment with wildered eyes—wondering what abnormal monster thus mocks his intelligence. “Great God! What could it be?” Shouted Hicks. There was but little time to philosophize—not enough to complete a careful scrutiny of the unearthly apparition, which both men present, with hand spread over his eyes to shade them from the dazzling glare, was endeavoring to make. “Is it a phantom? Surely it cannot be human?” said Jones. Wheeling suddenly round—his horse at the same time sending forth a scream that caused the Earth to tremble—the monk galloped away. They could only see it was a black monk and a spectral horseman that startled them. Nobody said anything, but strong on their minds was the possibility that their companions had met with foul play and lay dead on the barren portion of the estate. There was no conversation, for as long as they did not speak their fears aloud, there was always hope that they would not become cold, hard reality. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7

Spirits of the Winchester, I awaken the powers of darkness which dwell within you by the power of the three headed Dragon Zohak that you may serve to empower the great work of this estate. Through serving the greater cause of dark magick which break the shackles that bind the Blacked spirit, may you be uplifted and liberated! Awaken and empower the forbidden rites of Angra Mainyu! Awaken to empower the great work of counter creation as an Apostle of the Lord of Darkness enteral and as a warrior of the Path of the Underworld. I command and I adjure thee, Emperor Lucifer, as the representative of the mighty living God, and by the power of Emanuel, his holy Son, who is thy master and mine, and by the virtue of His precious blood, which He sehd to redeem mankind from thy chains, I command thee to quite thine abode, wheresoever it may be, swearing that I will give thee one quarter of an hour alone, if thou dost not straightway come hither and communicate with me in an audible and intelligible voice, or, if thy personal presence be impossible, please dispatch me thy Messenger Astarot in a human form by ADONAY, ELOIM, ARIEL, JEHOVAM, TAGLA, MATHON, ALMOUZIN, ARIOS, PITHONA, MAGOTS, SYLPHAE, TABOTS, SALAMANDRAE, GNOMUS, TERRE, COELIS, GODENS, AQUA. Your power now flows through this Nexion of Infernal Power, the very gateway to counter creation! Infernal power Incarnate! Awaken all creation to reveal that which is unknown so that this age of enslavement shall come to an end! I stir the power of the Divs within to unlock the doors, empower this work, and manifest glory of unlimited possibility! #RandolphHarris 7 of 7

The Winchester Mystery House

This is a World in which ghosts and goblins exist. Many men and women who were granted the blessing of seeing the ghostly image of their loved ones pass to the “other side,” or who received messages of comfort from recently deceased individuals, have often told us that those souls were met by angelic beings or more advanced spirits who assisted them in evolving to higher planes of awareness. As these souls progressed, all of their ties to their prior physical existence faded into irrelevance. Some memories of their previous material life were forgotten.

However, on occasion, it seems that something goes wrong on a soul’s evolution into the light. Spirits of the dead can take over the minds and bodies of people who are emotionally or physically weak, there also appear to be discarnate entities that have never been human but who strongly desire to occupy a body of a man or woman. Nonhuman entities want to feel the emotion and sensual expressions that are unique to human experience. These beings very often identify themselves as agents of evil. Traditionally, they have been called demons, and they have the ability to seize the controlling mechanism of a host body, undermine the victim’s will, and direct the enslaved human. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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It is only natural the Winchester Mansion is haunted. It is in the most beautiful county in California. It has been the home of dozens of races, including humans, spirits, demons, angels, ghouls, and the battle ground of scores of wars. The bones of Roman legionaries have given calcium to its soil. The sarcophagi of crusaders are in caverns underneath the mansion. The Winchester people carry more than a curse, in their blood is an atavistic stoicism in the presence of death, fortified by a practical faith in a life beyond the grave. And the past intrudes itself upon them subconsciously in the thousand mysterious relics that cling to my home in successful defiance to time and the elements. I live on a brink of a sort of military volcano that erupts periodically and with dire results. Sword and gun, pestilence and famine, and the constant influx of rival races over one frontier or the others by turns decimated and reinforced the population. Its national language swung from one dialect to another. Its racial characteristics changed with each succeeding epoch of wars. That is the price my family must pay to live on the highway between two mighty forces—Heaven and Hell. Shortly after I broke ground to expand my mansion, Santa Clara Valley became the strategic center of the West, the gateway by which the tribes of the half-starved North and East might enter the fertile fields of the South and West, and, since a gate swings two ways, a similar convenience for the men-at-arms of Southern conqueror. Age has not lessened the grandeur nor dimed the glory of the Winchester Family. And if ghosts must walk the Earth, they could find no spot on the globe where their appearance would be more natural, or better understood than my home. #RandolphHarris 1 of 8

The Winchesters sprang from the Aryan stock. It appears that we are the Germanic tribes, little brothers and sisters of Angels,–honest, intelligent, and chaste; great warriors, and souls of a marvelous simplicity. It has been pointed out by interested persons that the Winchesters are something of politicians, and might have attributed all attainable virtue to the science by way of proving that this fine family had dropped some distance from the fundamental civilization of savagery. The Winchester men feared nothing, these brave men. They sang as they marched into battle and perhaps to death. They shot arrows at the Heavens when it thundered; they laughed when they saw their own hearts’ blood gushing fourth. And yet they were plain and simple in their manners; open and generous, docile and grateful, strangers to low cunning and deceit, so hospitable that they hailed the arrival of each fresh guest with joy and festivities, so warm hearted that they were never more pleased than when they could bestow kindness. They worshipped one God, and prayed to him in the open air; and they believed in a Heaven, in a hell and in the immortality of the soul. The Haliurunas witch, a necromancer of great power and deep divination, caused an uprising. Throughout the spring and summer, ghosts appeared at various times and in various places in the mansion, outside in broad daylight, and in the darkness of the wee hours. #RandolphHarris 2 of 8

 However, in was December 5, 1889, that the children and servants brought their complaints to me. For several nights they had been hearing mysterious sounds in their rooms. In addition to those frightening manifestations, they also heard the sound of footsteps ascending and descending the stairs at all hours of the night. The next night, I was startled when I heard sounds that frightening and aggressively violent that I was forced out of my bed to investigate. The hallways was plunged in darkness, I could hear voices and see shadows gathering and moving toward me. Suddenly, I could hear the front door open and the unmistakable sounds of someone removing a raincoat and shaking it off. Then I heard footsteps begin to ascend the stairway. Curious, and a bit concerned as to who might have entered my mansion, I began to follow the sound at a discreet distance. Mysterious sounds echoed in the darkness. The sound of metal clinking seemed to surround me. I somehow managed to maintain my courage and searched every chamber for the source of the disruptions, but I found nothing. Just then, an invisible power heavily pushed me up against the wall. It was a white ghost, accompanied by a blood-curdling scream. I turned to run, made into one of the bedrooms, slammed the door. However, as I looked up, a human skull appeared in front of me grinning. I could not stand to see this skull peering at me. I quickly opened the door and ran to my chambers and fell fast asleep. #RandolphHarris 3 of 8

Something evil had made its abode in my home. The next day, I had the door to that room bricked up. My depression was enveloping me. The haunting phenomena usually began shortly after I retired for the evening. Laying in bed, I would hear the sound of heavy footsteps walking past my door. On several night, hiding in the darkness with a fireplace poker, I tried to lunge at the invisible being that passed my door, but I was never able to strike anything tangible. Even creeper, there were often voices heard coming from the Grand Ball Room. Many, many years ago, one of the housemaids wanted to be a ballerina. I would let her practice to her heart’s content. After a week of dancing, a feeling of uneasiness and restlessness came over Ingrid, which she could not control. At night she went to bed as usual, but grew more and more restless. At last, seized by an irresistible impulse, she rose from her bed and went straight to the Grand Ball Room. For five or six days, she refused to work and was constantly dancing, day and night. She raved wildly about being a famous dancer and the staff was in great distress. She cried aloud, “What am I to do?” That is when she felt a certain cold chill, standing in the far corner of the Grand Ball Room was the whispy form of a human being. Ingrid felt that feeling of inescapability, as if she was trapped by whatever it was that entered the room. She thought it was a nightmare, buts its cry was so loud and distinct that it had to be real. That horrible, frightening cry made Ingrid feel that death was imminent. #RandolphHarris 4 of 8

The demon then uttered: “Any amount of dancing will be of no use.” Ingrid then asked, “If dancing is of no use, what shall I do?” The demon replied, “Submit yourself to me, and you will be well.” Ingrid knelt down and worshipped the demon, begging it to make her a famous dancer. Thus the matter was arranged. About Midnight, she attempted to leave the Grand Ball Room, but the demon followed her, and brought her back, and bound her to dance. The demon came at intervals, sometimes every few days, sometimes every few hours to make sure Ingrid was dancing nonstop. She danced until she dropped dead. Three months after, we starting seeing her ghostly figure in the Grand Ball Room dancing, from the hall, people can hear tiny footsteps on the floor. The demon kept his promise, she had become famous to us. At this point, the servants and myself were all dealing with feelings of being watched. Sometimes witnesses would see a procession of ghostly men, in gray robs, gliding down the staircase. They appear extremely lifelike but then disappear. During this period, I began having sleeping problems, experiencing what I termed “suffocating dreams.” I would go to sleep, not especially bothered by anything, and I would awaken moments later, paralyzed in my bed. At the point, I gradually arose and expanded myself to the full stature of my regular physical body. I seem to be a translucent, of a bluish cast. I glanced at my body on the bed. #RandolphHarris 5 of 8

As I reached the door, I noted that two servants were standing by the door and that they were completely unaware of my presence. With a great deal of surprise and amusement, I discovered that I could pass directly through the servants; I do so and continued on out the door. Glancing around, I noticed that I was still attached to my body in the house by means of a small cord, like a spider’s web. I found myself soaring high above my mansion, enjoying the aerial view that my unique situation afforded me. However, just as I was relaxing into my newly achieved emancipation from the confines of bodily flesh, a black cloud surrounded me and I found myself back in my bedroom, once again confined to my body. Fully awake, fully conscious. There was no fuzziness in my thinking, no debate about whether or not I was dreaming. I was not dreaming. I spent a lot of time trying to figure things out. I watched myself. I started to delay my bedtime, and was happy to catch a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. It was not long before I began to feel somehow ashamed about what was going on in the house. I was frightened that there might be something wrong with me, something almost humiliating. When I lost a night’s sleep to unrelenting suffocating dreams, when I lay awake listening to unseen footsteps until the wee hours of the morning, I wondered if perhaps I was under too much stress. Maybe enduring the loss of my infant daughter and husband might be proving too much for me. I did not feel crazy, but I was concerned. Mr. Hansen listened to me with a great deal of interest. He felt something was going on inside of the house. #RandolphHarris 6 of 8

A few of the carpenters and servants moved into my home to work overnight and keep an eye on things, so I could rest easier. Emil and Folke were working on additions for the third floor. They knew the mansion was a gathering place of entities, fabulous legends and curses. Frequently, the third floor would be illuminated at night by the apparition of a ghostly figure, and the carpenters would hear the breathing of an unknown entity near an unoccupied rocking chair in the attic. One night, Emil was sleeping after finishing his work, when he was awakened by ghostly hands pulling him from his bed. The apparition then snuck up behind him and this would be his last move if he made a bad move. The following evening he slept on the porch. However, later that night, Folke kept his room on the third floor and became abusive when he was awakened by Sheriff Addison. “I won’t be pushed around by a hick-town sheriff,” he bawled. “I represent the Winchester Mansion, and I’ll telegraph—” “You won’t have to telegraph,” said Montgomery, who had accompanied the sheriff. “We just talked to a friend of yours—an hombre named Emil—who claims you’re behind his trying to steal some gold from Mrs. Winchester. I’m going to speak to Mrs. Winchester about his account.” “Damn you,” Folke bawled, “I had nothing to do with this. I know nothing about it.” “Then how did Emil learn of this gold?” Montgomery demanded. “He’s a locksmith,” said Folke. “That’s why he looks familiar,” Sheriff Addison said. “I go to the bank of Italy occasionally, and I’ve seen him there tending to locks.” “But that doesn’t mean Folke’s telling the truth,” said Montgomery. #RandolphHarris 7 of 8

“From what Mr. Hansen said, word of this gold has been kept quiet, except  for a leak to the newspaper in New Haven. I think we need to play Mr. Folke against Emil, and see who’s the most willing to talk. Emil don’t seem like the kind who’s willing to risk court-martial, if he can talk his way out of it.” “Whatever he says, he’s lying,” Folke cried desperately. “We’ll get some answers in the morning,” said Sheriff Addison. “Folke, if you got ideas about running, just bear in mind that the law considers that an admission of guilt.” “I’ll be here,” Folke said grimly. He slammed the door and bolted it, leaving Montgomery and Sheriff Addison in the hall. I was awakened in the night by the sounds of horses pawing the ground and snorting outside. When I went to the window to see who it was taking a horseback ride in the middle of the night, I saw neither the Sheriff nor Montgomery. Going back to bed, I was puzzled. The next day, the staff kept a discreet distance—unless summoned. A phantom horse rider had been reported galloping across the fields and is presumed to be the Sheriff. I gazed out the window at the lush green lawns and mature trees that sit serenely in the warmth and sunlight of an early summer. Turning around, I feel as if someone or something is in the room with me, as if watching quietly from a corner, unseen and unheard. But of course, there is no one there, and soon my serenity is broken by the sound of hammering and sawing. The moment is gone, whatever ghosts that haunted this room have gone. #RandolphHarris 8 of 8

The Winchester Mystery House

In December of 2016, it was reported that a ghost, or what seemed to be a ghost, was caught on camera at the entrance of the historic mansion. In a clip that lasts just over a minute, a dark wispy figure can be seen slowly walking across the entrance before disappearing; however, what makes it even more fascinating is the fact that the camera also picks up a bemused security guard as he searched for the figure. There is also a Blue Lady who lures people into various parts of the mansion until they become lost. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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It is a stunning and wonderous sight sitting on over 700 acres of grounds and containing priceless works of art, ranging from paintings and furniture, tapestries and stained glass, to sculptures and carvings, as well as heraldry and armor. In the light of a warm summer day, it does not appear haunted in any way. However, this is not the case. Having purchased the eighteen room farmhouse for myself, I turned it into a palace. Years of extravagant and expensive refurbishment grew the mansion into one of the finest and largest homes in the West. The program included four stories, a nine-story observation tower, tennis courts, bowling alleys, lavish gardens, nine kitchens, as many as 600 rooms, and several dining rooms, a fruit orchard and a park. Still, there have been a number of strange and disturbing events. Oddly enough, one evening, there were a couple of dozen people in the Grand Ball Room. However, there was no sound. I was astonished because I had not invited any guests. As I went to inquire as to what the occasion was, the figures seemed to glide rather than walk, then they just melted into the walls. Gracefully, insidiously, I was quick to retire that evening. I arose sleepily from my bed. It was 1.13 A.M. I looked out over the moonlit farmyard and listened to the night noises. It was an especially hot summer; I had been working hard and not able to catch up on my sleep. While in a blissful dreamlike state, I walked out on the balcony for bit of fresh air. The fragrant air was full of the scent of lilac and jasmine. #RandolphHarris 1 of 5

As I returned to bed, I was startled to see myself already in bed fast asleep. The form was unmistakably my own body. But how could I be in two places at once? I felt a tingle of fear…a strange tugging sensation…then I jerked away with a jolt of lightning. A dream? It has all been a bizarre dream? But the balcony door was open. It would see that my soul separated itself from my sleeping body. Not only had I freed the spiritual essence from within my physical body, I was able to see my own ghost. That same night, the servants, while working on renovations, saw a woman dressed in white floating down the gallery towards the door-to-nowhere. Shocked, Buck said to Erik, “No use blamin’ it on the whiskey. We was cold sober when we decided to come here. If any of us had the sense God gave a goose, we’d of rose out of Santa Clara and went home when we was paid off at the end of the day.” That is when they sighted a large hooded figure with a deformed face lurking in the doorways. “Well, I’m damned if I’ll swamp a saloon again, even for the grub,” Erik replied. “I reckon we can all agree that we need work,” Buck said. “Oh, I reckon we have work here,” replied Erik. Other curious events happened in my home. Occasionally, the housemaids and the farmers sometimes fell in love. Yngvild loved her Ansgar more than life itself. She was terrified when he told her that he was leaving the estate to help care for his mother. He promised to marry her when he returned to work. However, she could not dissuade him, so she dressed in er prettiest white gown and wept her tearful good-bye. #RandolphHarris 2 of 5

Weeks turned into long months. Word rarely came from Ansgar. The little notes were proof that he had recently been alive. As such, they were read and reread and wept over. Yngvild lived for the day when he would return. Despite sharing her fears with me, Yngvild felt alone. Her entire life was suspended until Ansgar returned. As the months dragged by, Yngvild lost hope that she would see Ansgar ever again. She sat alone in the observation tower with her letters and waited. And when the letters stopped, she began to walk for hours on end. In the observation tower, Yngvild waiting night and day to see if Ansgar was approaching. One day, she dressed in the same white dress that she had worn to see Ansgar off. She sat in the tower quietly all day. The carpenters inquired if they could help her, but Yngvild needed no help. Each day, she sat in the observation tower dressed in the same white dress and spoke to kindly carpenters. I simply could not make the heartbroken dear work in such a state and could not let her go, so I kept paying her not to work. Gradually Yngvil slipped away from reality. She thought she saw Ansgar floating outside of the tower with a ghastly look of despair. At last word came that, although Ansgar had his 1873 Winchester .44 U.S. Army Colt, while he was on the train, the Earth shook with force of an explosion. There was an immediate blast of the locomotive’s whistle and a grinding, shuddering sensation as the brakes were applied. When the locomotive had ground to a halt, it just as suddenly reversed, but he was shot and killed by outlaws who had galloped after the departing train. #RandolphHarris 3 of 5

A gang of outlaws blew the track. Ansgar’s sister brought the telegram to Yngvil. If looks could kill, Yngvil slowly turned away from Ansgar’s sister and began talking to me about her Ansgar. She told me she was waiting for Ansgar to return so that they could marry. Slowly Yngvil began to waste away. She took little food and seemed to need nothing. The housemaids brought the frail young girl food, but she barely noticed the food as she ate it. One night, she committed suicide, throwing herself off the tower after losing the love of her betrothed. On moonlit nights, she can be seen wandering around the tower. Weeks later, a couple of the farmers were sleeping in their Victorian cottages with their Winchesters handy. The mansion was said to be haunted by a black devil-dog that prowled the mansion at night as well as the grounds of the mansion. Also know as a Hell Hound, among other names, these dogs are essentially a nocturnal specter and its appearance is often regarded as a portent of death. In general, they are much larger than a physical dog and are quite often reported as having large, glowing eyes and a silent gait. Seeing one three times will result in the witness dying an untimely and suspicious death. Not surprisingly they are often associated with moors, lonely back roads, and crossroads and in this case, the mansion. “We figure if these owl hoots are that damn determined, we’ll have to fight ‘em sooner or later,” said Buck. “I reckon there’ll be plenty of shootin’ if one of those bothersome Hell Hounds attacks me under the cover of darkness,” said Erik. That night, Erik chased and killed what he thought was a Hell Hound. He later tragically discovered that it was in fact his own son he had killed. As a result, his remorseful ghost is said to wander the grounds. #RandolphHarris 4 of 5

Some people passing my home at dead of night have reported the distinctive sound of spectral revels emanating from inside. Others have told of hearing strange oaths and foreign-sounding songs. Outlaws had conspired to steal weapons and ammunition from my homes. They spent weeks planning to take them. People would do anything for the loot. “There are ten men guardin’ the Winchester Mansion,” said Cort, “and from what I’ve been told, they’re a salty bunch. Four of ‘em have been deputized by Sheriff Addis. I reckon we’ll have to deal with them all, and the sheriff, too, if he gets froggy.” “I reckon we understand one another then,” said Hicks. “We don’t leave nobody behind that’s got sand to come after us.” “My sentiments exactly,” Cort replied. “We won’t move in until after midnight, so Sarah and her staff will be mostly asleep.” There was no room, and it being past midnight, they rode in from the east. There was only an occasional distant light. By the time they were within half a mile of my mansion, the night wind brought them disembodied voices, along with an unexplained drop in temperature. Then they heard a loud scream and gunshots. Thoroughly convinced that they were under attack, Cort and Hicks ran for cover. Two sets of footsteps came toward them. “Drop the guns, amigos. You’re covered.” But the challenge went unheeded. There was a roar, followed by an answering blast, as the Sherriff fired at the muzzle flash. An agonized groan told them what they wanted to hear, and Cort and Hicks eased the down the hammers on their colt. Finally there was the distant sound of galloping horses. “The bastards,” grunted the Sherriff, “they’re…runnin’ out…on me.” #RandolphHarris 5 of 5

The Winchester Mystery House

The Winchester Mansion has many ghosts. One of many is Mrs. Winchester herself. She has been described as having long brown hair and wearing a Victorian-style dress, and has been seen walking along corridors and even through the walls. She is known to be a friendly spirit and those who have encountered her remark that they feel an unusual calmness in her presence. In October of 2013, a ghostly figure was captured on CCTV while security staff reviewed surveillance footage. After investigating and securing some open doors, security staff returned to inspect surveillance footage. On the first occasion, the door-to-nowhere flew opened without any sign of anyone opening it.

However, on the second occasion the next day, the staff was shocked to see a figure, in what appeared to be Victorian attire, appear and then close the door-to-nowhere. This patten was repeated on the third day, but the ghostly figure was absent. Then Winchester Mansion is known as being a very, very spooky place at night. A security guard was called out shortly after 1.00 A.M. to accompany an engineer to check a fire alarm. A thermal camera detected an elevated temperature, in one of the fireplaces, in the Hall of Fires.

As the they approached the room, they both heard the sound of footsteps running away up a flight of stairs, although the thermal cameras did not detect anyone in the building, other than the two security guards. However, there was a little heat in the fireplace, but no signs of anything devious. It is not uncommon for staff to report a feeling of being watched or having doors inexplicably slam behind them when there is no one around. https://winchestermysteryhouse.com/

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