Randolph Harris II International Institute

The Mystery of the Scream itself Remains

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/

Homo Consumnes Remains Dominant

Do not give away all your money, then become a poor borrower. China has been growing extremely rapidly for a long time, but an important shift in its growth pattern occurred at the time of global financial crisis. During the six years up to 2007, China’s gross domestic product (GDP) grew at an average rate … Continue reading

Possibilities for Revolution in the West

In any system which substitutes ritualized ideology for reality, adherence to the correct ideology becomes a proof of loyalty. Since the Russians have ritualized their ideas, they must insist on the “sacredness” or, as they put it, on the “correctness” of their ideological formulae; and, since Mr. Khrushchev’s authority is based on the legitimacy of … Continue reading

Happy is One Who Wisely Considers the Poor

Once upon a time, the police knew the community and community members so well that if your interior lights were on later than usual, they would knock on your door and check to see if everything was well. Times have changed. Economic good fortune smiles, if not on everyone, then on more people than in … Continue reading

Troublesomeness of the Spirit

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 26th 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/

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/

Are We All Liars?

When it comes to Russia, the question that raises perhaps the greatest difficulty of all for the realistic understanding of the nature of Soviet Russia and her political intentions is that of the meaning of Communist ideology. If it is true that Russia since 1923 has not been a revolutionary system, has not attempted to … Continue reading

Winter’s Chill was in the Air

In the middle of the night, I was awaked by a frightful scream which came, or seemed to come from the roof of the mansion: and noises simultaneously reached me which seemed as if twenty or thirty chattering workmen were removing the tiles, and flinging them down as fast as possible into the garden below. I hastily got up, the apparition made itself visible, in its manly guise, just a foot from me, as its wont, and then caused my candle to go out, though it had no breath of its own with which to do it with. I summoned the man-servant, want downstairs with him to the front door, armed with a brace of loaded Winchester ‘73s. We expected to find thieves, or a body of lunatics, or Chartist rioters on an errand of destruction. However, on opening the door and making examination, not a soul was to be seen—not a sound heard. None of the tiles had been removed; while the garden was perfectly still and deserted. Amid the elms and the dogwood, the bird of paradise plants and the palms, noting had been disturbed. Coming back to my chamber, I found my windows open and the drapes flapping in the breeze, and had to latch the windows again. The linen from my bed had been thrown hither and tither, and my papers had been scattered about.  I stayed awake for some time afterwards when suddenly the door of my bedroom opened, and shut again rather quickly. I fancied it might be one of the servants and called out, “Come in!” After a short time the door opened again, but no one came in—at least no one I could see. Almost at the same time as the door opened for the second time, I was a little startled by the rustling of some curtains belonging to a hanging wardrobe that stood by the side of the bed; the rustling continued, and I was seized with the most uncomfortable feeling, not exactly of fright, but a strange unearthly sensation that I was not alone. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6

I had had that feeling for some minutes, when I saw at the foot of the bed a priest buttoned up tight in a black rain coat. His face was shadowed, deep-hollowed under brow and cheekbone. He looked to be in his forties. Looks can be deceiving. Something compelled him to raise his eyes to my face, and when he did so, he halted. Eyes momentarily alive, he scrutinized my face. The man seemed as if he were on the bed, and came gliding toward me as I lay. The sensation of panic deepened. My breath came shallow and rushed, my thoughts flew wildly in all directions, I was simply terrified and could not move. I tried to speak to him but could not. He came slowly on up to the top of the bed, and then I saw his face clearly. He seemed in great trouble; his hands were clasped and his eyes were turned up with a look of entreaty, an almost agonized look. Then, slowly unclasping his hands, he touched me on the shoulder. The hand felt icy cold, and while I strove to speak he was gone. I felt more frightened after the priest was gone than before, and began to be very anxious for the time when the servant would make her appearance. Whether I slept again or not, I hardly know. However, by the time the servant did come, I had almost persuaded myself that the whole affair was nothing but a very vivid nightmare. However, when I came down to breakfast, there were many remarks made about my not looking well—it was observed that I was pale. In answer, I told the servants that I had had a most vivid nightmare, and I remarked if I was a believer in ghosts I should imagine I had seen one. Nothing more was said at the time upon the subject, except that my guest, Dr. Wayland, observed that I had better not sleep in that room again, at any rate not alone. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6

As the evening came, the twilight deepened; and in many parts of the tangled hallways there was an approach to absolute blackness. I found myself walking unusually slow. It was unlike me, and the queer disorienting sense of being unreal, of having stepped into another World, was totally new. I was so panicked I could hardly catch my breath. I wanted to run out of the hallway, wanted to run out of my mansion. It was as if a demon had appeared to me. It breathed into my face, shoved me about, tried to pull me under. I would suffocate: I would be destroyed. The sensation was possibly the most unpleasant I had ever experienced in my life though it carried with it no pain and no specific images. Why I was frightened I could not gasp. Why I wanted nothing more than to run out of my home, to escape the unseen, yet curious eyes, I was never to understand. However, I could not flee. To form even a rudimentary idea of my thoughts and feelings as I slowly penetrated this aeon-silent maze of unhuman masonry one must correlate a hopelessly bewildering chaos of fugitive moods, memories, and impressions. The sheer alluring antiquity and lethal desolation of the place were enough to overwhelm almost any sensitive person, but added to these elements were the recent unexplained horror. And the revelations all too soon effected by the terrible wailing and creaking sounds all around us. The apparitions rearing and dwelling in this frightful catacomb were wise and old. They are the makers and enslavers of life. They are the Great Old Ones that had filtered down from the stars when the Earth was young—the beings whose substance and powers were such as this planet had never bred. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6

So the following night, one of the chambermaid slept with me in the Crystal Bedroom. Neither one of us saw nor heard anything out of the way during that night or the early morning. That being the case, I persuaded myself that what I had seen had been only imagination and, much against everyone’s expressed wish, I insisted the next night on sleeping in the Daisy Bedroom again, and alone. Accordingly, having retired again to the same room, I was kneeling down at the bedside to say my prayers, when exactly the same dread as before came over me. The drapes of the wardrobe swayed about, and I had the same sensation as previously—that I was not alone. I felt too frightened to stir when, at that very moment, a chilling atmosphere and queer presence seemed to permeate the bedroom. There were unaccountable bangings and the sound of heavy breathing, accompanied by the feeling that something or somebody was in the room with me. And although I never saw anyone, I continued to hear footsteps. They went diagonally across the room, from an alcove beside the bed to the far wall where they stopped. Upon the ceiling, an apparition’s face appeared in the plaster as broad as half a crown. Frightened, I ran to the door, but could not open it for it was not unlatch. I nervously shuffled through my pockets to find the key to the door, but it slipped from my clutches and fell upon the floor. Kneeling to get the key, I noticed such a queer thing, a blue eye was seen peering through a knot-hole in the wooden floorboard. My troubled, I must confess it, increased upon me. As I lit my candle, something whispered to me, “Let me wish you a Happy New Year.” I could not had been mistaken: it spoke distinctly and with a peculiar emphasis. Had I dropped my candle, as I all but did, I tremble to think what the consequences must have been. As it was, I managed to get in bed quickly, and experienced no other disturbance. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6

Another curious thing happened on December 28. I had occasion to come downstairs to my library for my watch, which I had inadvertently left on my table when I went up to bed. I think I was at the top of the flight when I had a sudden impression of a sharp whisper in my ear, “Take care.” I clutched the balusters and naturally looked round at once. Of course, there was nothing. After a moment I went on—it was no good turning back—but I had as nearly as possible fallen: a car—a large one by the feel of it—slipped between my feet, but again, of course, I saw nothing. It may have been the kitchen cat, but I do not think it was. In shock, I went to back down to the library and worked from 9 to 10. The hall staircase seemed to be unusually full of what I can only call movement with sound: by this I mean that there seemed to be continuous going and coming, and that whenever I ceased writing to listen, or looked out into the hall, the stillness was absolutely unbroken. Nor, in going to my room was I conscious of anything that I could call a noise. It so happened that so happened that I told Heinrich Schnell to come to my room for the letter to Cynthia Hesdra which I wished to have delivered early in the morning at her mansion. He was to sit up, therefore, and come for it when he heard me retire. This I had for the moment forgotten, though I had remembered to carry the letter with me to my room. However, when as I was wining up my watch, I heard a light tap at the door, and a low voice saying, “May I come in?” (which I most undoubtedly did hear) I recollected the fact, and took up the letter from my dressing-table, saying, “Certainly: come in.” When I went to open the door she appeared before my eyes then vanished. As I strongly suspect I committed an error, I opened the door and held the letter out. There was certainly no one at that moment in the passage, but, in the instant of my standing there, the door at the end opened and Heinrich appeared carrying a candle. I asked him whether he had come to the door earlier; but am satisfied that he had not. I do not like the situation; but although my senses were very much on the alert, and thought it was sometime before I could sleep, I must allow that I perceived nothing further of a figment of my imagination. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6

I adjure thee, Emperor Lucifer by the hierarchy of superior intelligences to make our magick our Divine will imposed upon limitation and stasis. Allow our sorcery to be an external manifestation of our God self. All of your reality is a mirror upon which we can view the true essence of self and divinity. Allow the inner vision to become within the eternal darkness. May we feel and experience the colours emanating from the fire of spirit and unite them with the darkness. Allows these colours to move outward from within and merge to create the blackness and nothingness of the void so when they move back into our consciousness, we will notice how in our reality these colours again separate to create our physical surroundings through our observation and perception of them. May we maintain the knowledge that we are in complete control of all creation and how destiny within this World unfolds. I offer my blood unto the Divs and Druj, whom are of the essence of counter creation. I offer my life force unto the powers of eternal darkness found within. May they devour and destroy the imposed shackled of divine light and stasis that I may become as Zohak who is Ahriman in the flesh! Pursron and 22 Legions of Spirits, I awaken the powers of darkness which dwell within you by the power of the blood of the three headed Dragon Zohak that you may serve to empower my great work! Please bring forth hidden treasures, and devour all limitations for the sake of evolution and reveal the truth of the lie unto the Dark Apostles! Ediamazay acsat acsat acmahgnay acah tahsa ahteav oruha adzam ohgnav itiap ensey taa matah ehgney. Oybihzhkav acsaybieahdxuhsar acsaybarhtoaz acanhtoahys acacav…acarhtam ahgnahgnad ovzih. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6

The Winchester Mystery House

The son of one of the caretakers of The Winchester Mystery House believed himself to be haunted with ghosts, and was confident that he met with an evil spirit in a certain field at the mansion, as he often went to school that way. He confessed that a woman, which appears to him, lived in the Winchester Mansion. Her name was Helena Blavatsky. She never spoke to him, but passed by hastily, and would always leave the footpath to him, and she commonly meet him twice or three times in the breadth of the field. She began to meet him constantly morning and evening, and always in the same field, and sometimes twice or thrice in breadth of it. After about a year, he began to suspect and believe she was a ghost, and had courage enough not to be afraid; but kept it to himself a good while, and only wondered very much at it. He did often speak to her, but never had a word in answer. Then he changed his way and went to school the under horse road, and then she always met him in the narrow lane, which was worse. At length he began to be terrified of her, and prayed continually that God would either free him from her or let him know the meaning of it. Night and day, sleeping and waking, the shape was ever running in his mind. Thus by degrees he grew very pensive, insomuch that it was taken notice of by all his family; whereupon being urged to it, he told his brother William about it. William laughed at him, sometimes chided him, but commanded him to keep his school and put such fopperies out of his head. He did accordingly go to school often, but always met the woman in the way.

After weeks, William noticed that his brother was losing weight, getting pale and was not sleeping. Early one morning, he decided to escort his brother to school. They walked for about an hour’s space in meditation and prayer before stepping into the disturbed field. The ghost appeared, and William spoke to hear in a loud voice, in some such sentences as the way of these dealings directed him, whereupon it approached but slowly, and when they came near it, it moved not. William spoke to it again, and it answered, in a voice neither very audible nor intelligible. He was not in the least terrified, and therefore persisted until it spoke again, and gave him satisfaction. However, the work could not be finished at that time; wherefore the same evening, an hour after sunset, the apparition met the brothers again in the same place, and after a few words of each side it quietly vanished; and neither doth appear since, nor will ever more to any man’s disturbance. The discourse in the morning lasted about a quarter of an hour. These things are true, and I know them to be so with as much certainty as eyes and ear can give me; and until I can be persuaded that my senses do deceive me about their proper object, I must and will assert that these things in this paper are true.

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