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Spirits, Apparitions, and the Haunted Winchester Mansion
This morning my niece Daisy brought to breakfast an object which had been found in the garden; it was a crystal tablet, which she handed to me, and which, after she left the room, remained on the table by me. I gazed at it, I know not why, for some minutes, till called away by the day’s duties; and I seemed to myself to begin to decry reflected in it object and scenes which were not in the room where I was. I took the first opportunity to seclude myself in my room with what I now half believed to be a talisman of mickle might. What I went through this afternoon transcends the limits of what I had before deemed credible. In brief, what I saw, seated in my bedroom, in the broad daylight of summer, and looking into the crystal depth of that small round tablet, was this. First, a prospect, strange to me, of an enclosure of rough stones about it. In this stood an old woman in a red cloak and ragged skirt, talking to a boy dressed in the fashion of maybe a hundred years ago. She put something which glittered into his hand, and he something into hers, which I saw to be money, for a single coin fell from her trembling hand into the grass. The scene passed: I should have remarked, by the way, that on the rough walls of the enclosure I could distinguish bones, and even a skull, lying in a disorderly fashion. Next, I was looking upon two boys; one the figure of the former vision, the other younger They were in a plot of garden, walled round, and this garden, in spite of the difference in arrangement, and the small size of the trees, I could clearly recognized as being that upon which I now look from my window. The boys were engaged in some curious play, it seemed. #RandolphHarris 1 of 6
Something was smouldering on the ground. The elder placed his hands upon it, and then raised them in what I took to be an attitude of prayer: and I saw, and started at seeing, that on them were deep stains of blood. The sky above was overcast. The same boy now turned his face towards the wall of the garden, and beckoned with both his raised hands, and as he did so I was conscious that some moving objects were becoming visible over the top of the wall—whether heads or other parts of some animal or human forms I could not tell. Upon the instant the elder boy turned sharply, seized the arm of the younger (who all this time had been poring over what lay on the ground), and both hurried on. I then saw blood upon the grass, a little pile of bricks, and what I thought were black feathers scattered about. That scene closed, and the next was so dark that perhaps the full meaning of it escaped me. However, what I seemed to see was a form, at first crouching low among trees or bushes that were being threshed by a violent wind, then running very swiftly, and constantly turning a pale face to look behind him, as if he feared a pursuer: and, indeed, pursuers were following hard after him. Their shapes were but dimly seen, their number—three or four, perhaps—only guessed. I suppose they were on the whole more like dogs than anything else, but dogs such as we have seen they assuredly were not. Could I have closed my eyes to this horror, I would have done so at once, but I was helpless. The last I saw was the victim darting beneath an arch and clutching at some object to which he clung: and those that were pursuing him overtook him, and I seemed to hear the echo of a cry of despair. #RandolphHarris 2 of 6
It may be that I became unconscious: certainly I had the sensation of awaking to the light of day after an interval of darkness. Such, in literal truth. Was my vision—I can call it by no other name—of events to come. Have I not been the unwilling witness of some episode of a tragedy connected with my very house? Some hours later, I had been engaged upon my work for about half an hour, and was just beginning to think that my task was drawing to a close, when, as I was actually writing, I saw a large white hand within a foot of my elbow. Turning my head, there sat a figure of a somewhat large man, with his back to the fire, bending slightly over the table, and apparently examining the pile of books that I had been at work upon. The man’s face was turned away from me, but I saw his closely cut reddish-brown hair, his ear and shaved cheek, the eyebrow, the corner of the right eye, the side of the forehead, and the large high cheek-bone. He was dressed in what I can only describe as a kind of ecclesiastical habit of thick-coloured silk or some such material, close up to the throat, and a narrow rim or edging, of about an inch broad, of stain or velvet, serving as a stand-up collar, and fitting close to the chin. The right hand, which had first attracted my attention, was clasping, without any great pressure, the left hand; both hands were in perfect repose, and the large blue veins of the right hands were in perfect repose, and the large blue veins of the right hand were conspicuous. I remember thinking that the hand was like the hand of Velazquez’s magnificent Dead Knight in the national gallery. #RandolphHarris 3 of 6
I looked at my visitor for some seconds, and was perfectly sure that he was not a reality. A thousand thoughts came crowding upon me, but not the least feeling of alarm, or even uneasiness; curiosity and a strong interest were uppermost. For an instant, I felt eager to make a sketch of my friend, and I looked at a tray on my right for a pencil; then I thoughts, “Upstairs I have a sketch-book—shall I fetch it?” There he sat, and I was fascinated; afraid not of his staying, but lest he should go. Stopping in my writing, I lifted my left hand from the paper, stretched it our to the pile of books, and moved the top one. I cannot explain why I did this—my arm passed in front of the figure, and it vanished. I was simply disappointed and nothing more. I went on with my writing as if nothing had happened, perhaps for another five minutes, and had actually got the last few words of what I had determined to extract, when the figure appeared again, exactly in the same place and attitude as before. I saw the hands close to my own; I turned my head again to examine him more closely, and I was framing a sentence to address him when I discovered that I dare not speak. I was afraid of the sound of my own voice. There he sat, and there sat I. I turned my head again to my work, and finished writing the two or three words I still had to write. The paper and my notes are at this moment before me, and exhibit not the slightest tremor or nervousness. I could point out the words I was writing when the phantom came, and when he disappeared. Having finished my task. I shut the book and threw it on the table; it made a slight noise as it fell—the figure vanished. #RandolphHarris 4 of 6
Throwing myself back in my chair, I sat for some seconds looking into the fire with a curious mixture of feeling, and I remember wondering whether my friend would come again, and if he did whether he would hide the fire from me. By this time, I had lost all sense of uneasiness. I blew out the four candles and marched off to bed, where I slept the sleep of the just or the guilty—I know not which—but I slept very soundly. Around midnight, I awoke and went to the balcony to gaze at the moon on this warm summer night. That is when I noticed several women who looked like the Maenads immortalized by Euripides in the garden; maddened souls. They raced through the trees with bloody hands, leaving pieces of male flesh scattered in the grass. And to the west, single-breasted Amazons strode, drawing their mighty bows back and letting fly storms of arrows. A man, a might king, holds fast. He sinks his teeth into one of Amazon’s shoulders, and in fierce rage and bliss beings to draw out the nourishment. The Amazon kicks and claws at him in turn. He feels the gouges like fire along his shoulders, thighs, and hugs the amazon more nearly as he throttled and drinks from her, loving it, jealous of her, killing her. Gradually the might Amazon body relaxes, still clinging to him, her teeth bedded in his arm, forgotten by both. In a welter of marks, stripped skin, spilled blook, the king and the Amazon lie in embrace on the lawn. The Amazon lifts her head, kisses the assassin, shudders, lets go. The king glides out from under the magnificent deadweight of the amazon. He stands. And pain assaults him. His lover has severely wounded him. The king, involuntarily, confused, he tries to levitate, but only raises a foot off the ground. He cries out, a beautiful singing note of despair and anger. He drops fainting onto the lawn. #RandolphHarris 5 of 6
A caretaker who witnessed the battle does not wait for more. He runs away through the mansion, screaming invective and prayer, and reached the Grand Ball Room and makes the whole mansion listen. The king lies in the ocean of almost-death that is sleep or swoon, while the staff discusses him. And when he is raised, the king does not wake. Only his drooping bloody lips quiver and are still. Those who carry him away are more than every revolted and frighted, for it appears they have seldom seen blood. He struggles through unconsciousness and hurt, though the deepest most bladed waters, to awareness. I could feel ice forming in my bones. His people search for him, call and wheel and find nothing. The warning is clear enough: do not make war, brother upon brother, for devastation is all you will reap. And the message of hope may very well be that there is something of us that continues after death. As they are now, chained to the Earth for who-knows-how-long, so, someday, may we be also. A violent death, as well, will some how leave the spirit behind at the site where its mortal vessel was shattered. The living, mourning too long for the dead is another reason for a haunting. Sometimes the spirit remains to give a message of hope, or a warning to those left behind. One of the more ominous reasons accepted by experts as to why a human soul or spirit remains bound to the Earth is that the person’s fear of judgment. This theory is backed up by the religious ritual of confession of and forgiveness for sins, especially at the time of death. If one is to face the Final Judge of all we have done in life, it is essential we go there penitent, as the poet Emily Dickenson wrote, “Beggars for the door of God.” So, if a youthful, sudden, unexpected, or violent death are also reasons souls remain rooted to the Winchester Mansion, certainly the Winchester Rifle, qualifies as a cause for any spirits being trapped here. #RandolphHarris 6 of 6
If the men of the Civil War were concerned about the fate of their mortal souls as they were, in the heat of combat, seeing the souls of their enemies free from their bodily prions, then certainly it explains why so many remain here. And if incessant mourning for the dead is a reason why sprits linger, and 2 million people visiting the Winchester Mystery House a year basically to remember and essentially mourn the Winchester family others who have been sacrificed, still another condition for a haunting is satisfied. And for good reason: Judgement Day and souls being chained to Earth for eternity is something we should all deeply ponder when we are thinking of the double-edged sword of revenge.
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/
And the Angel of Death Shall Surely Pass Over
Whatever the truth is about the Winchester family, this much is certain: when I came to Santa Clara Valley and found my land, the air was so heavily laden with perfume that it was as if every wild lilac and wild rose and every white sage was borne into the hidden heart of Llanada Villa. There was no lack of invisible blossom. As I build my home, many of the plants and trees and flowers were brought in from the World outside. There were deer and coyote and raccoons that spread throughout my garden of this great dream palace. There also orchids and lotus flowers—nurtured by the gardeners. Areas of pure foliage were the handiwork of apprentices, working on their craft by filling in areas that their teachers had not the time to address. However, for some reason there was always a certain bitterness in my home here. None of this spoiled the power of the overall vision. Iin fact, it created a splendid energy. Portions of my home were in focus; other parts were barely visible. However, the hungry deer were driven from their traditional trails by the presence of the unknown. The deer no longer lingered on my estate for very long with the same curiosity they once had. They were no longer fond of the secret enclaves of the gardens and seldom chose to stay very long there. Perhaps it was just that the leaves and petals had become bitter. Conceivably there were too many whisperings in the air around the gazebos, and the precious animals were unnerved by what they heard, or maybe when they looked up, the same a fragment of light that caused them to take flight. I became aware that my home was host to souls which expressed their longing for something they dreamed of, something they had once possessed, or something they now dreamed of. At night, their voices were so tenuous that they were almost inaudible to the human ear. #RandolphHarris 1 of 7
Sometimes, the caretakers were curious to discover what lies off the prescribed corridors in my home. On occasion what they discovered would cause them to come to a vail of tears. Over the years, even trespassers were compelled to trespass in my home. However, these visitors would always leave hurriedly. Those without even a psychic bone in their body were made uneasy by something they had discovered along the corridors which ran in all directions. The Villagers made up malicious rumors about me and my home. They claimed that horrible things had been done here and the human blood was used in the mortar between the bricks of the foundation. They called me the Satan’s wife and claimed that I had sent my husband William away on a hunting trip and that he never came back. Oh, how these stories hurt my heart. On a bad day, I would just wish to die. Some said that William was a great hunter, but he did not always limit his quarry to animals. People also said that if guest who lived in my home got out of line that Satan would cut off their heads in their sleep and dispose of their bodies, which is the real reason no one stayed on staff for every long. There are such stories told by fools. Fools invented myths, but this is a loving home. It was something about my wealth that made them suspicious. People wanted to know what was I hiding in such a large mansion. Some figure there had to be something in my home that deserved a closer look. Caged and helpless, a fiend is at the mercy of the spirits. It is also weak from the battle with the noble lion, which gave its life for the mansion’s safety (and will be buried with honour in an ornamented grave at the foot of the mansion). Just before the dawn came, my advisers advised me, and the golden cage was wheeled away into the darkest area of the mansion, close by the dais where once the huge window was no more. #RandolphHarris 2 of 7
I led the way down the passageway to another door, one that was much smaller than the mahogany door we have come through. We were presented with a flight of step that led us to landing, with the option to take another flight of stairs, taking us deeper into the mansion, or to walk up a different flight of steps to an even higher level of the house than we had originally descended from. This ingenious feature all us to quickly get to three levels of the house. I always notice that when I chose to climb to the higher level of the house that the air was noticeably more frigid. No matter what, there was always something to catch the eye, but with all these stairs and doors, I had forgotten that even I could get lost in my home. It was not my choice to build the home in this fashion. I did as I was told by the spirits. I had rooms built and tore down, furniture and tapestries moved. I followed their counsel. The leader of the architects was a spirit called Marbas. The bearer of that name was also winged. He was the fifth fallen angel, a great President and would appear in the form of a Great Lion, but at my request, he would put on a human shape. Marbas and his people are winged beings. They are more like a nest of dark eagles than anything, mounted high among the pilasters and pinnacles of the Observational Tower. Cruel and magnificent, like eagles, the somber sentries motionless as statuary on the ledge-edges of the mansion, their stable winds folded about them. They are very alike in appearance (less a race or a tribe, more a flock, an unkindness of ravens). Marbas and his Legion, also black-winged, black-haired, aquiline of feature, standing on the brink of star-dashed space. He has great wisdom and knowledge in the mechanical arts, and governed thirty-six legions of spirits. They have their own traditions of art and science. They do not make or read books, fashion garments, discuss God or metaphysics or men. #RandolphHarris 3 of 7
Marbas launches himself into the air, speeds down the sky on black ails of his wings, calling, a call like laughter or derision. This morning, in the tween-time before the light began and the sun-to-be drove him away to his shadowed eyrie in the Observational Tower. Marbas pays no heed. He does not need to reason, he merely knows, that noise make this—as he smashed a window or tears down a room. Its design he found fault with. It is, of course, more than that. The magic of Purpose has protected this fortress, and, as in all balances, there must be, or come to be, some balancing contradictions, some flaw…appropriated for the occasion. Bars, bars, all about him, and not to be got rid of, for he reaches to tear them away and cannot. Beyond the bars, the Crystal Bedroom, which is only a pointless cold glitter to in in the maze of pain and dying lights. Not an open place, in fact, but too open for his kind. Through the window-spaces of thick stained-glass, colourful sunglare must come in. To Marbas it will be like swords, acids, and burning fire—far off he hears wings beat and voices soaring. His people search for him, call and wheel find nothing. Marbas cries out, a gravel shriek now, and the persons in the hall rush back from him, calling on God. However, Marbas does not see. He has tried to answer his own. Now he sinks down again under the coverlet of his broken wings, and the wine-red of his eyes go out. The smashed window in the old turret above the menagerie tower has been sealed with mortar and brick. It is a terrible thing that it was so long overlooked. A miracle that only one of the creatures found and entered by it. God, the Protected, guarded the Cursed Heiress and her court. And the magic that surrounds the estate, that too held fast. From the possibility of disaster was born a bloom of great value Now one of the mosters is in their possession. A prize beyond price. #RandolphHarris 4 of 7
The switchback staircase had seven flights with forty-four steps, which only rises about nine feet, since each step was just two inches. This was to confuse intruders who were already undoubtedly scared by the many bizarre features in such a large maze. There are even two sets of stairs that lead to the ceiling. The miles of twisting hallways were made even more intriguing by secret passageways in the walls. I traveled through my house in a roundabout fashion, to confuse any mischievous onlookers that might be following me. Eyes often burning through the night, depthless red as claret. And then other eyes, amber, green and gold, spring out like stars across the path. Their cries are mostly wordless and always mysterious, flung out like ribbons over the air as they wheel and swoop and hang in wicked cruciform, between the beams in the ceiling. The spirits sing, long hours, for whole nights at a time, music that has a language that only they know. All their wisdom and theosophy, and all their gras of beauty, truth or love, is in the singing. They look unloving enough, and so they are. Pitiless, fallen angels. They have accepted every bastion and wall as their prey. They have preyed on this mansion and tried to prey on it for years. In the beginning, their calls, their songs, could lure victims to the feast. In this way, the tribe or unkindness took William from a midnight balcony. However, my daughter was the first victim. They left both Annie and William to the sunrise, marble figures, the life drunk away. By night, the spirits fly like huge black moths round and round the carved turrets, the dull-lit leaded windows, their wings invoking a cloudy tindery wind, pushing thunder against thundery glass. They sense they are attributed to some sin, reckoned a punishing curse, a penance, and this amuses them at the level whereon they understand it. It gets hellishly cold. The staff would brew their own brandy from the plums we grew on my trees to stay warm. Glasses were filled and emptied, but they never achieved the warmth they intended to. Even though there were forty-seven fireplaces and lights that along the walls, often times they did nothing to warm the air. #RandolphHarris 5 of 7
I cautiously unlatched the door. Opened it a crack. The room was in darkness, but despite that fact there was a warmth in their air; at least in contrast to the bone chilling air of the hallway. Then I opened it wider. I starred into the darkness, enjoying the slight rise in temperate. When I pushed the light button, the room was empty. As I traversed through the corridor, familiar objects looked strange and shadows moved unexpectedly. Just then, the chandelier dimed, gave off a strange sizzing sound and blacked out. Zip jumped and clutched my leg. I gasped for a breath. A narrow stair led to the attic. The light there must have burned out long ago. A ghostly figure with waving arms rushed at us. There was a panic for a moment, then I laughed shakily. It was my wedding dress. The draft blows it around! The beauty of the demon affected me, making me wish to paint it, not as something wonderfully disgusting, but as a kind of superlative man, vital and innocent, or as Lucifer himself, stricken in the sorrow of his colossal Fall. And all that has caused me to pity the fallen one, mere artisan that I am, so I slunk away. I know, since the alchemist and the apothecary told me, what is to be done. Of course, most of the mansion knows Though scarcely anyone has slept or sought sleep, the whole place rings with excitement and vivacity. I have decreed, too, that everyone who wishes shall be a witness. So I have having a progress through the mansion, seeking every nook and cranny, while, let it be said, my carpenter, Mr. Hansen, takes the opportunity to check no other windowpane has cracked. From room to room my entourage pass, through corridors, along stairs, through attics and storerooms I have never seen, or if I have seen has forgotten. The ancient women in the mansion sigh and whisper. It is one of the dark staircases above the Devil’s kitchen that my gleaming entourage and I sweep round a bend and comes Marth the scullery maid, scrubbing. In these days, when there are so few children and young servants, labour is scarce, and the scullerers are not confined to the scullery. #RandolphHarris 6 of 7
Martha stands up, pale with shock, and for a wild instant thinks that, for some heinous crime she had committed in ignorance, I have come in person to behead her. “Here then, by Mrs. Winchester’s will,” cries Mr. Hasen, my carpenter. “One of the night-demons, which do torment us has been captured and lies penned in the Grand Ball Room. At sunrise tomorrow, this thing will be taken to that sacred spot where grows the bush of the Flower of the Fire, and here its foul blood shall be shed. Who then can doubt the bush of will blossom, and save us all, by the Grace of God.” When I got down stairs in the morning, Daisy was in the palour arranging a great bowl of roses from the garden. Sunlight streamed into the mellow room, a light breeze fluttered the curtains. No hint of ghosts on such a bright morning. “Aunt Sarah, let’s not worry about things this morning,” Daisy suggested. “It’s a wonderful day. Do you want to go into town with me? I see more dresses.” “I did,” I said “We’ll take the short cut back. It’ll save three hours.” The shortcut lay through several fields, a few pastures, and woodlands. “By the way Daisy, are you sure you like your bedroom? It is long off from anyone else, you know?” “Like it? To be sure I do; I have my own house within your home, Aunt Sarah. Here I taste a mingling of modern elegance and hoary antiquity, such as has never ere now graced for life. And this town, small as it is, affords us some reflection, pale indeed, but veritable, of the sweets of polite intercourse: the adjacent country numbers amid the occupants of its scattered mansion some whose polish is annually refreshed by contact with metropolitan splendour, and others whose robust and homely geniality is, at times, and by the way of contrast, not less cheering and acceptable.” “Nothing could be more enchanting.” For years, from sunset to rise, nothing would wake Daisy. Once, as a child, when she had been especially badly beaten for being related to a Winchester, the pain woke her and she heard a strange silken scratching, somewhere over her head. But she thought it a rat, or a bird. Yes, a bird, for later it seemed to her there were also winds. However, she has now forgot all of this. Now she sleeps deeply and dreams of being a princess. #RandolphHarris 7 of 7
Winchester Mystery House
Mrs. Winchester was considered a child enchantress. Groups of would gather around this miracle with perfect rose-bud cheeks whose dark eyes, long wavy hair, and bright simile set here apart from any other child. They were transfixed by her uncanny ability to speak several languages, which she had never studied. They were amazed that she could play several instruments remarkably well. Others could not resist the alluring falsetto tone of the child siren. Her gaze was enthralling, and her voice was soft. Some were impressed by the sense of indifference Mrs. Winchester demonstrated when they met her. It was a real part of her nature; bred into her, perhaps, by a bloodline that had suffered so much loss and anguish over the generations. This is why nothing was allowed to impress her too greatly; she had no idea how remarkable she and her creations were because she suffered too severely from a broken heart. As an adult, Mrs. Winchester held her beauty in extreme reserve, providing only glimpses of her presence for public consumption. It was these glimpses that kept the audience coming to her home to sneak a view of her day after day. However, Mrs. Winchester was too good an actress to let people see how deeply she mourned for the deaths of her husband, parents, and infant daughter. And it is the same power which her Grand Queen Anne mansion unleashes to audiences today. Mrs. Winchester was an orphan of a great spiritual storm. There are some parts of the mansion not shared with the public, and with good reason. You see, there are people who should not see what it has to show. I do not know if it is mysterious or if it is sad. You see, the woman who built this mansion was a good soul. The truth is, we are all a little afraid of what happened here because none of us are certain of the truth. All we can do, is say our prayers, and put our souls into God’s care when we are on this beautiful but bizarre estate.
After the death of Mrs. Winchester, the city of Santa Clara wanted to turn her home into a hospital, but a psychic said that the Devil had cursed the place. People’s hearts were filled with sorrow for the things they said about her, after learning how kind and charitable she had secretly been. No one has ever been able to estimate the true size or complexity of the Winchester Mystery House. Although it is only recognized as being 24,000, experts believe that it has to be at least 150,000 square feet. At one time, it was even larger than it is today and had as many as 600 rooms and nine stories. It is plain, even from a distance, that the home was elaborately designed. The estate was originally comprised of an estimated 740 acres of land, and had green trees from every part of the World, and more, sweeter hues in the growth between them. Beneath the canopy, there were exotic flowers and creature, and the branches of the trees skillfully lead the impression that light was falling through the foliage, which is now virtually simulated in the mysterious windows in the Grand Ball Room. It was rendered with remarkable expertise. People have always been exhilarated by what they see. Some people leave the estate wiping their cold and clammy hands, and wonder to themselves how is it that such a beautiful mansion could invoke such fear into their souls. Caretakers and business associates understood the coldness on the matters of the heart displayed by Mrs. Winchester, as she remained unmarried and celibate after the death of her husband. This coldness is what made her so strong; and it was her strength—visible in her eyes and in her every movement—that have endured her audiences for nearly two hundred years. Sometimes you find beauty in the strangest places. Mrs. Winchester’s thoughts are with the walls and the beautiful art-glass windows.
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/
Until He is Dead– Fear is a Paralyzing Agent
Somewhere there are phantoms having their own funerals over and over again. The same scene for centuries. Therefore, it is socially inappropriate to speak ill of a person in the aftermath of their death. De mortuis nihil nisi bonum (of the dead, nothing unless good). Demortuis nil nisi bene dicendum (of the dead, nothing spoken unless truthfully). Do not speak evil of the dead because once you do, you cannot apologize and take back the things you said. Their spirits may also put a curse on you. So, that sin cannot be forgiven. Perception is primarily of mental representations of external objects. People often feel that because a person is dead that they can say anything they want about the individual and it will not hurt them. However, some overlook the possibility that there may be people alive who love that individual and they will be offended by the unkind words. When you slander a dead person, you offend their relatives, friends, and fans. And it is not easy for you to locate each one of them and ask for forgiveness. This is more difficult than seeking a pardon of one who is alive, and it may also cause some to want to retaliate. Also, it is commonly noted that poltergeist cases tend to involve agents who are in their adolescent or teenage years. The median age of the agent is 14 years. Around 37 percent of the cases have an agent who is under 20. However, sometimes the agents can be as young as 8 or as old as 70. In many poltergeist cases, it has been found that the RSPK agent may be in a situation that is bringing about psychological tension for him or her, usually in relation to interpersonal problems with other people who live or work with the agent. There is hostility in the agent which cannot be expressed in normal ways, the main target for the anger being people with whom he is associated on a daily basis. #RandolphHarris 1 of 13
There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Psychokinesis means movement by the mind. The idea is what perhaps some people sometimes may be able, whether consciously or unconsciously, to move or otherwise affect things without pushing or pulling them and, indeed, without in any way touching either things in question or any other things involved in the process. Perhaps, it is suggested, these people or, indeed, all of us really can in some condition bring about changes in things by simply willing, as a gambler might wish that by simply willing and without any detectable cheating he or she could get dice to fall in ways one desires. Once this suggestion is allowed there seems to be room for an alternative description of many experiments which might otherwise have appeared to be unambiguous evidence of the reality of precognition. Such a description will be in terms of psychokinesis, guided perhaps by a measure of straight telepathy or straight clairvoyance. The subject may not, after all, really be the precognizing target. Perhaps that individual or somebody else is consciously or unconsciously influencing psychokinetically the target-determining mechanism in order to increase the degree of correspondence between the guess series and the target series. #RandolphHarris 2 of 13
A body/skeleton was found in a Gage County, Nebraska riverbed in March of 1873, and it was thought to John Cameron’s remains. William Jackson Marion was suspected of the murder because the year earlier, he and John Cameron left Nebraska and headed to work on the railroad. However, just days later, William Jackson Marion returned alone with John Cameron’s team of horses. William Jackson Marion was eventually convicted for murder and was hanged in Beatrice, Nebraska 25 March 1887. An article in the Omaha Daily Bee on 26 March 1887 declared there was, “No doubt that he was guilty and also guilty of other murders in the Indian Territory.” However, four years later in 1891, after William Jackson Marion was executed, John Cameron turned up alive and explained that he had, in the nearly twenty years since his “murder” traveled to Mexico, Alaska, and Colorado. He had fled out of fear of a paternity allegation, and sold his team of horses to William Jackson Marion and still have the note William Jackson Marion had given him for payment of the remainder. One Hundred years after his hanging, on the 25th March 1987, William Jackson Marion was pardoned posthumously by the State of Nebraska. We just recently reached the 130 year anniversary of Mr. William Jackson Marion’s hanging. May God bless you and restore you house, horses, and provide you with a happy life in Heaven. #RandolphHarris 3 of 13
Poltergeist experiences or cases of RSPK, are, but the currently held model, related to the subconscious mind of a person in the situation where the disturbances are going on. That person is generally in a stress-related tense, and frustrating situation or relationship. Where most people would respond to the stress in a variety of normal ways, from punching the walls or throwing things to have nervous breakdowns or experiencing physical illness, or poltergeist agents have an alternate means of blowing off steam. For some, the reaction to stress is a subconsciously directed psychokinetic outburst. Called a subconscious psychokinetic temper tantrum. There was a local playhouse, and a movie was made based on a fictional character, but experiences that really happened. When the directors of the film, The Gallows wanted to remake a high school paranormal activity reenactment of the hanging of William Jackson Marion, they may have gotten more than they bargained for. When you watch the tape, it is labeled as “Police evidence.” The plot is set in 1993, when high school students are in a theater putting on a production The Gallows. Charlie Grimille, who is playing August, is in love with Mary (Pfeifer Ross) in the play is accused of murder and is accidentally hanged and killed after a prop malfunction with the gallows, and the trap door broke, he fell through with a noose around his neck and died. A live audience witnessed the unbelievably morbid event. Charlie’s death haunted the town and his spirit never really seemed to leave the theater. Now, here is where the twist comes in. While watching the film, I thought to myself this seems really real. However, just wrote it off as good acting. The part that seemed really real to me was when the students, 20 years later, put on the play The Gallows, again. So, anyway, there is a reason it seemed real because some of it was. #RandolphHarris 4 of 13
The film had a low budget of $100,000.00 and is a Warner Brothers production, but the total remuneration of more than $43 million. The Directors, Chris Lofing and Travis Cluff wanted the film to seem real and they decided they were not going to tell the audience that Charlie Grimille was going to hang, so when they hang him, the audience would think something went wrong in the movie. Like, in the Crow, when Brandon Lee was really shot and killed on set, much like his father Bruce Lee was. Once Charlie dropped and there was chaos, the directors wanted to see how long they could let it go before people freaked out and called the police. The actors knew that Charlie was going to be hanged. They even practiced the play in a fake way with the audience watching, and Charlie took the noose off and got away, so everyone thought that is how it was supposed to go. And they practiced that way three or four times and then they rolled the cameras. However, the directors wanted the cast to be scared and freak the audience out, so they changed the script a little and hanged Charlie a lot soon than anyone expected. And everyone was shocked, they thought someone had just died. It has been noted that when a RSPK agent is upset, strange things happen, things blow up and such, and the the individual feels less stressed out. Investigators notice higher levels of paranormal activity when an RSPK agent is upset. So, the consequences of torture and oppression may not be as isolated as the tormentors would like. However, you also have to keep in mind, if there is an RSPK agent, and people suspect this, there may be cases of fraud when things are staged to make it look like the agent was responsible. #RandolphHarris 5 of 13
Nevertheless, the real creepiness does not stop there. To make the movie feel real, the directors told the actors that the movie was based on real events that took place in Beatrice, Nebraska USA, and after doing research, I discovered that it was; just not in the theater. Still, the directors took it a step further to scare the cast, they had pictures, newspaper articles, websites that they had fabricated to make it seem that the movie plot was exactly real and happened in the timeline that they created. So, the actors were afraid. And this is exactly why people do not want actors and movie producers to be involved in government or media because they can stage events with all the technology, get people to lie and turn news into terrorism and pure entertainment for profits. When Cassidy Gifford was interviewed, she said they did not want to say Charlie Grimille’s name. The directors and actors said that weird things that were not scripted did happen on set. The movie was shot in the most haunted location in Fresno, California USA. They said it felt like a place where someone would drag someone and lock them up for a long time, and that it felt like something else was living in the theater. Ryan Shoos, one of the main characters said that he was acting tough, but really scared. Pfeifer Brown in a haunted bathroom heard a loud thud and started screaming like she was scared for her life. Perhaps this could be traced back to some causal ancestor common to both the anticipated and the fulfillment, or it could be the law of averages. If you play around with unknown forces long enough, you are likely to be confronted with a remarkable case of genuine telepathy. #RandolphHarris 6 of 13
In 41 percent of the paranormal cases, the phenomena began after a move, an illness, or another kind of event that me be stressful or upsetting to people. In 20 percent of the cases, the phenomena started when a bout of rage, disappointment or great frustration was displayed by the suspected RSPK agent. In 8 percent of the cases, the agents were characterized, prior to the start of the disturbances, as already suffering from a mental or emotional problem, or were in a state of physical distress likely to have emotional consequences. This may have important implications for the human side to poltergeists. Cassidy Gifford said that they locked her in the haunted bathroom and they were supposed to stay in there for fifteen minutes, but after five minutes in the faulty building one of the water faucets turned on and she turned on the lights and started crying. And there was no one there. It is possible that some people may be able, whether consciously or unconsciously, to move or otherwise affect things without physically touching them. The director Chris Lofing said that most of the weird stuff happened late at night on the stage. That they would hear loud thuds and then the chains in the rafters would start rattling. And I believe that they did experience paranormal things. Perhaps he or somebody else was consciously or unconsciously influencing psychokineticaly the target-determining mechanism in order to increase the degree of correspondence between the guess series and the target series. I was doing research on King James and how he thought witches tried to sink a ship he and his wife were on with a storm and then a pot of water on my stove had a huge bubble, a water bubble shot into the air. Also, while I am writing this, the grapefruits on the tree keep falling and making loud thugs, in the past hour in a half, ten have fallen, which is unusual. And another time I was doing research on witch craft these big moths came out of nowhere when I was in my bedroom and I killed one and flushed it down the toilet. #RandolphHarris 7 of 13
Then the next few days another one appeared and flew around and I went to get a newspaper to kill it and it hit the floor and disappeared and I move everything and vacuumed and could not find it, so kept the light on for a few hours, I was freaked out. Because the research I was doing talked about the spells and moths and bones and blood and such. Much like that theater, this building I live in is old and four people on my floor have died and about ten people have died in the nine years that I have been here. One lady told me that someone died in my apartment before, too. One of the actors from the actual film, Reese Mishler, said he had some pretty weird experiences. Reese did not like the auditorium because he and Ryan both head something at the same time, and they have it on camera. It sounded like metal chains to them and as Reese talks about his experience, his eyes are bulging out of his head, he looks scared. Pfeifer Brown said as actors, the thing they experienced scared them to death being on set. One of the scenes they were filming, Reese and Ryan Shoos were having an argument, and the directors says this was not supposed to happen, but the ropes on the fly rig were recorded vibrating and it got intense, but Ryan and Reese did not notice it, but it is on tape. 41 percent of the paranormal cases involving moving objects were described by the witnesses to be floating, fluttering, falling in a zigzag patter, or curving around sharp corners. Similarly, objects that displayed unusual flight paths were described in 45 percent of the cases. Some objects were also described as changing their speed while in motion. We are confronted with causes operating backward in time and they may have spring from something less discreditable than complacency. #RandolphHarris 8 of 13
The paranormal on set might even be one manifestation of a conviction that wanted to accommodate such a phenomenon and produce something much more radical and much more retiocinative than a paradoxical screenplay. Ryan said that things you do not see are the things that scare you the most and sometimes he would go a week without sleeping. Pfeiffer said that scariest scene takes place in the attic because the things that happened in the attic were not planned. She said they do not know some of the different things that happened and some of the different things they heard. And each take they would go deeper and deeper into the attic, and each time they were going they did not think it was a good idea. Reese looked scared and did not want to walk down the hallway. On the eighth take in the attic, which ended up being the last take, they heard a quiet sound saying, “Reese.” Reese and Pfeiffer got really scared and ran and were screaming like they were in danger. And actually, watching that movie and the outtakes did kind of freak me out. As I was watching it, I remember thinking, “A movie has not scared me in a long time.” The way I came across the movie was odd, too. I was shopping and two guys were looking at videos and I wanted one, and a movie fell on the floor, so I reached down to pick it up and then saw The Gallows sitting on the floor and bought it. Like it was waiting for me. The poltergeist is both an expression and a release mechanism (or safety valve) of an for this inner hostility. This explanation also tells us a great deal about the specific dynamics of the poltergeist—that is, it actually explains quite neatly just why the poltergeist acts the way it does. I am sure that all readers have seen what happens when a young child becomes frustrated, or when one becomes angry after being scolded for being naughty. The child is apt to throw a tantrum by slamming doors, throwing toys about, banging on the walls, and displaying other aggressive acts. Newton’s III laws state energy is not destroyed, it is only transferred and each action has a separate, but equal reaction. So poltergeist usually are a product of the youth because they have no means to resolve their issues on their own since they have no authority. It does not take much insight to realize that these are the exact activities in which poltergeist engages. Like a frustrated youngster, it too bangs on the walls, throws things, and slams doors. #RandolphHarris 9 of 13
It seems that any explanation or, if that now becomes too strong a word, any account of precognition as such will have to center on the notion of coincidence or something very like it. The laws, if there are any laws to be discovered, will describe the conditions under which we may expect to find precognitive correlations. Perhaps, there is a built-in suggestion that such phenomena are both more common and also somehow more significant than might be thought. Upon hearing all of those thuds of grape fruits falling from the tree, for two hours, the last one being the loudest, I stepped out on the balcony and see nothing, but circular water spots, and a white bird screamed and flew overhead. Then there were sounds of something in the bushes. So, yeah, I find this stuff interesting, but it is spooky. I really think you can open gate ways by what you choose to focus on. Playing with things occult like the Witch (Oujia) board is very dangerous. If you try to contact dead family members, you are not speaking with them. You are speaking with demons and you will indeed open your body up to them. All it takes is one time. Updated to the mystery of the thuds I have been hearing, I just head another and it is someone throwing water bottles off a balcony above me. And now, about 13 “fireworks” just rapidly went off. Anyway, remember Poltergeist, which was an American horror film series? It was rumored that a curse attached itself to the poltergeist trilogy and its crew, because two of the young cast members died, and the oldest cast member died. #RandolphHarris 10 of 13
In each case the reason for talking of precognition is not that any particular guess can, at some stage, be identified as precognitive but, after the guesses have been checked against the targets, the proportion of hits in a series of guesses is found to be significantly above mean-chance expectation, it seems likely that there is some parapsychological phenomena. In poltergeist cases, the object movements and noises may be seen as a similar kind of psychokinetic influence, but on a much larger scale than dice or random numbers. An emotional expression seems to be a factor in many poltergeist cases. The rumors of the curse of the Poltergeist was said to be caused because they used real skeletons as props. Dominique Dunne, who played the oldest daughter Dana in the first filmed died 4 November 1982, at the age of 22 after being strangled by her abusive former boyfriend John Thomas Sweeny. Heather O’Rourke, who played Carol Anne, died 1 February 1988 at the age of 12 due to complications from an acute bowel obstruction. Zelda Rubinstein, who played Tangina Barrons, died 27 January 2010 at the age of 76 from kidney and lung failure. There are countless other tails of Supernatural terror. Rosemary’s Baby, the producer came down with kidney stones and allegedly sent Charlie Mason to murder the director’s wife. And there is the curse of The Omen. It came out 6 June 1976. John Richardson, the special effects consultant, was involved in a car crash that killed his girlfriend/assistant, Liz Moore, on Friday the 13th. The accident was similar to one he planned in The Omen and when Richard regained consciousness, his car odometer was at 66,6XXX. #RandolphHarris 11 of 13
A poltergeist is a large-scale form of psychokinesis or mind over matter in which anomalous physical phenomena (such as moving objects, electrical disturbances, and noises without any obvious source) repeatedly occur in the presence of a certain person over a brief period of time. The large-scale psychokinesis (PK0, occurs largely on the unconscious level, is known as recurrent spontaneous psychokinesis, or RSPK, and the person around whom them phenomena occur is known as the RSPK agent. Actor Gregory Peck was cast as ambassador Robert Thorn, the adopted father of the Devil child, in the Omen. Shortly after Gregory Peck took the role, his son shot himself in the head without the slightest warning or explanation. Then Gregory’s plane was struck by lightning, causing the engine to catch fire and nearly crash. Three days later, The Omen’s screenwriter David Seltzer was also on a flight on his way to the United Kingdom and his plane was struck by lightning. Now, for you plane to crash, you have to take the same exact flight for nearly ten years, everyday. That is how unlikely a plane crash is. However, shortly after, the executive producer Mace Neufeld was in a plane that was struck by lightning. And the producer Harvey Bernhard was in Rome, a lightning bolt barley missed him. Then the production rented a plane to shoot an aerial view of London, the rental company had a last-minutes switch, resulting in the plane going to a group of Japanese businessmen instead. It hit a car, killing everyone in that as well. Also, on the first day of shooting The Omen, several of the main crew members were in head-on car crashes. Gregory Peck was attacked by a vicious pack of Rottweilers (hellhounds are said to attack people who sell their soul). #RandolphHarris 12 of 13
Poltergeists are person-oriented phenomena rather than spirit-oriented. So it is almost like an individual is haunted by spirits, ghost, supernatural powers who have some affect on the being and what happens around the individual and these ripples can be magnified depending on what is happening to that being. Although apparitions are sometimes witnessed in poltergeist cases, this tends to be rather uncommon. The apparitions in poltergeist cases do not always seem to represent human figures, but can also take on the form of animal figures, body limbs, demonic figures, and amorphous shapes that may be indistinct, shadowy, or mist-like. If we were to limit ourselves only to those involving human figures, we may find that the apparitions more often reflect the personalities of living people rather than those of dead people. The day after shooting The Omen was done at the Longleat Safari Park, a London zookeeper names Sidney Bamford was killed in the lion area. He was working for the production as a big cat wrangle for a scene that was meant to appear in the movie. In a scene that showcased zoo tigers, who were menacing the possessed son, Damien, one of the tigers was not properly secured post-filming, leading to a fatal attack on the animal expert. The hotel of the crew members was attacked and a restaurant the cast and crew was in route to eat at suffered an explosion before they got there. The Omen was remade and releases 6 June 2006, and Pete Postlethwaite, who portrayed Father Brennan suffered the loss of his brother, Mike. This was after mike drew three sixes at poker. Black magic operates most effectively in preconscious, marginal areas. Casual curses are the most effective. People tend to fear ghost in their own family. You feel these family curses and think, “If it happened to my father, it could happen to me.” There are a lot of curses and mysticism and real scares. #RandolphHarris 13 of 13
Randolph Harris II International Institute 