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  Arkham Perfume Oil

  Behind everything crouched the brooding, festering horror of the ancient town, and of the mouldy, unhallowed garret gable where he wrote and studied and wrestled with figures and formulae when he was not tossing on the meager iron bed. His ears were growing sensitive to a preternatural and intolerable degree, and he had long ago stopped the cheap mantel clock whose ticking had come to seem like a thunder of artillery. At night the subtle stirring of the black city outside, the sinister scurrying of rats in the wormy partitions, and the creaking of hidden timbers in the centuried house, were enough to give him a sense of strident pandemonium. The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound – and yet he sometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard should subside and allow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected were lurking behind them.

  He was in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King’s men in the dark, olden years of the Province.

  A shadowy, unapproachable forest of maple, birch, dogwood, cypress and pine softened by a garland of New England wildflowers: bergamot, columbine, rue anemone, blue violet, creeping phlox, bloodroot, toadflax, and pixie moss.

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  Loup Garou Perfume Oil

  The wild, untamed essence of lycanthropy. Primeval in its raw power and insatiable hunger: juniper, cypress and galangal with the barest touch of eucalyptus.

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  All Souls’ Day (Hedwig Cemetery) Perfume Oil

  Franz Skarbina
  Ancient cypresses surrounding clusters of purple hyacinth, fallen leaves, and crosses crafted from white roses. A splash of rosewater, an immortelle hung on a tear-streaked marble tomb, nightshade berries, smoked lilac, warm beeswax, and a snuffed candle.
  

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  Blithe Hollow Perfume Oil

  Dead leaves and cold, moist breezes set at the edge of a forest of maple, pine, cedar, and cypress.

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