In 1884, a grieving widow named Sarah Winchester arrived in sunny San Jose, California, carrying an immense inheritance that was said to have been cursed. Her husband, William Winchester, was dead, claimed by tuberculosis. Their infant daughter, Annie, had died at one month due to a rare form of severe malnutrition. The source of her wealth was the Winchester rifle, a weapon that had filled her coffers and graveyards around the country.  Sarah bought a modest eight-room farmhouse and began designing and building. She never stopped. According to lore, for nearly forty years, hammers echoed day and night as rooms bloomed. dissolved, and were reimagined like restless dreams. When a hallway displeased her, she ordered it razed. When a design felt wrong, she simply rebuilt it. Stairs climbed into ceilings. Doors opened into thin air. Windows looked into walls. The house grew the way a thought spirals when it cannot find peace or passes through the mind like vapor.  Maybe it was gri...

Did you know that Peckerwood is haunted by a gang of Victorian ghosts? Those rattles and creaky floorboards aren't residents sneaking to the kitchen for 2 AM nachos or tawdry meetups in the cloakroom. Nay, my friends, these ghosts also want in on the fun or have lived here since the manor was built and are trapped because they feel they are the real owners and we are simply their guests. Besides, our antics amuse them, and they are ardent fans of Bendyboys and Caza's power ballad karaoke nights. Don't be afraid. Our ghosts won't hurt you except for Millie the Grouchy Fishwife.  Sir Whiskersey Kittypants would love to introduce you to them, and one in particular may surprise you.  Why yes, that is Charles Dickens. No one knows why he is here. He won't say, but he's suspiciously always around when it is time for the nude male revue.  Consuela and Guadalupe, aka Carrie and Lucius, they like to pretend to be South American heiresses shipwrecked off the coast. Really...