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  Gently, Gently, They are Timid Perfume Oil

  Softly, softly, hear the rustle
  Of the Spirits airy wings;
  They are coming down to mingle
  Once again with earthly things,
  With their rapping, and their tapping
  Rap-tap-tap to wake our napping,
  In the restless dream of error:
  Hear the weird the Spirit brings –
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy.
  
  Gently, gently, they are timid
  If a medium is not there;
  They may leave you in delusion,
  And dissolve again to air.
  Tis no fable – beings able –
  Rap-tap-tap upon a table;
  And their language is translated,
  While the watch with guardian care
  Rap-tap-tap lost friends are near you;
  Rap-tap-tap they see and hear you;
  In their mystic converse rappy
  They declare good Spirits happy

  Spirit Rappings, lyrics by T.E. Garrett, music by W.W. Rossington
  
  A joyful undeath: candied orange and pink peppercorn, sugared freesia petals, vanilla bean, and white honey.
  

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  Poisoned Apple Perfume Oil

  The queen stepped before her mirror:

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
  Who in this land is fairest of all?

  The mirror answered:

  You, my queen, are fair; it is true.
  But Little Snow-White with the seven dwarfs
  Is a thousand times fairer than you.

  When the queen heard this, she shook and trembled with anger, “Snow-White will die, if it costs me my life!” Then she went into her most secret room — no one else was allowed inside — and she made a poisoned, poisoned apple. From the outside it was red and beautiful, and anyone who saw it would want it. Then she disguised herself as a peasant woman, went to the dwarfs’ house and knocked on the door.

  Snow-White peeped out and said, “I’m not allowed to let anyone in. The dwarfs have forbidden it most severely.”

  “If you don’t want to, I can’t force you,” said the peasant woman. “I am selling these apples, and I will give you one to taste.”

  “No, I can’t accept anything. The dwarfs don’t want me to.”

  “If you are afraid, then I will cut the apple in two and eat half of it. Here, you eat the half with the beautiful red cheek!” Now the apple had been so artfully made that only the red half was poisoned. When Snow-White saw that the peasant woman was eating part of the apple, her desire for it grew stronger, so she finally let the woman hand her the other half through the window. She bit into it, but she barely had the bite in her mouth when she fell to the ground dead.

  The queen was happy, went home, and asked her mirror:

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
  Who in this land is fairest of all?

  And it answered:

  You, my queen, are fairest of all.

  A perfect, lovely, gleaming red apple whose sweetness masks a swirl of narcotic opium, oleander, and hemlock.

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  Psychodynamic Discharge 2024 Perfume Oil

  In certain cases, emotionally charged complexes of representation, which have become autonomous and dissociated, seem to automatically and compulsively press for discharge and realisation through haunting phenomena…. Hence, the so-called haunting occurs in place of a neurosis.
  —Albert von Schrenck-Notzing
  
  Repressed rage, terror, and subjugated sexuality erupting through fierce bursts of uncontrollable psychic phenomena: black leather and red musk with aged black patchouli, Chinese rose, black pepper, coconut meat, Haitian vetiver, and igneous red ginger.

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  Phantom Team of Horses Perfume Oil

  About two miles from the village of Canton, Me., is a cosey, old-fashioned farm-house which is located directly opposite a graveyard, with no other house in sight. From the window of this little house nothing can be seen except the graveyard with its gleaming stones, and the hills and mountains round about.
  
  The family that has been occupying the house moved out not long ago, declaring that they could not stand it any longer, that they were wellnight distracted by the demonstrations. When they told their story a former resident, who now lives in Hartford, announced that he had known for years that the place was haunted. He had not told any one for fear of the ridicule of his neighbors.
  
  The demonstrations were not only in the house, but in the barn and around the premises. Regularly every night at 12 o’clock a team of horses rushes from the direction of the village, rumbles over the little bridge at a slashing gait, and then disappears. It never reaches the house. Instead, ghostly voices address the members of the family who have the temerity to live there, the voices coming from all parts of the house, but never so clearly that they can be located.
  
  On one memorable night a member of the family went to the barn just at dusk without a lantern. A figure stood at the corner of the building, and he ran to learn what the straggler wanted about the place. The figure silently and mysteriously melted into the shadows and was gone.
  
  The Buffalo News, April 20, 1904
  
  A spectral cacophony of shimmering, translucent dun sandalwood, grey amber, and wraith-chilled chestnut galloping through the mist-cloaked shadows of time, a clattering of clove and black pepper, and a crack of phantom leather.

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