Art by Abigail Larson, story by Sheridan LeFanu, scents by Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.
Troubled by Revenants Perfume Oil
$29.00
Troubled by Revenants Perfume Oil
$29.00
“How came the village to be deserted?” asked the General.
“It was troubled by revenants, sir; several were tracked to their graves, there detected by the usual tests, and extinguished in the usual way, by decapitation, by the stake, and by burning; but not until many of the villagers were killed.
“But after all these proceedings according to law,” he continued — “so many graves opened, and so many vampires deprived of their horrible animation — the village was not relieved. But a Moravian nobleman, who happened to be traveling this way, heard how matters were, and being skilled—as many people are in his country—in such affairs, he offered to deliver the village from its tormentor. He did so thus: There being a bright moon that night, he ascended, shortly after sunset, the towers of the chapel here, from whence he could distinctly see the churchyard beneath him; you can see it from that window. From this point he watched until he saw the vampire come out of his grave, and place near it the linen clothes in which he had been folded, and then glide away towards the village to plague its inhabitants.
A paean to ancient malevolence and the unseen forces that grasp and scratch at the living like gnarled roots clawing through blood-stained soil in midnight forests: patchouli, mandrake root, black pepper, and fossilized amber.
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Add to cartLet America be America again.
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I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
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I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
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In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
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For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
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The steel of freedom does not stain.
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The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
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And make America again!
– Langston HughesO, let America be America again – the land that never has been yet: waving green grasses, purple-hued amber, smoked sandalwood, bay rum, clove bud, cardamom, and black pepper.
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