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The freshly-turned earth of the grave and a heart of dry dusty vanilla made mysterious with a duo of dusky patchoulis and three mournful lily accords...this Gothic-minded blend is perfect atmosphere (either as fragrance or room scent) for a walk on the spooky side...if you dare.


EARTH ~ Grounding, centering, protection, renewal, reincarnation, life.
LILIES ~ Purity, modesty. Wards away evil, protects, and breaks love spells. Soothing and calming on the nerves. Sweetness, mental prowess, happiness.
VANILLA ~ Aphrodisiac, inspires happiness, playfulness, sexual arousal, lust, vitalizing.
PATCHOULI ~ Soothes and uplifts; sensual, sexually stimulating, lust, fertility, money. Meditative and transforming.
SMOKE ~ In addition to the attributes of whatever is being burned (resins, woods, etc), smoke is for cleansing, purification, renewal, consecration, concealment and celebration


Created by: Mara Fox

Name: Mara & John

Description: Julie (luna65)

Label art:

October 2010


Review Thread


It was a dare.


They knew of the graveyard, had passed by it for years on their way to school and back home again, and each season it seemed a different place, almost. Verdant green and flowering in spring, bleached headstones gleaming in the glare of summer, a cold forlorn landscape in silent winter.


But autumn, and Halloween, this was the time its true character came to be known.


The leaves rustled like scurrying vermin as they whirled, pushed by the chilly wind, the waning light cast long shadows between the rows of headstones and tombs, The creak of a wrought iron door swinging unattended at dusk, the caw of a raven — black against white — as it scolded from within the brick walls of the final resting place for so many souls...these sounds sent a shiver down the spine as one walked quickly past, not wishing to tarry in such a place.


They had dared her — because she loved the macabre and mystery, she wore black and smelled of funeral incense, she painted skulls on her bookbag — they dared her to spend the night in what was known as the Haunted Hallows, the vacant lot in back of the graveyard. It was said anyone who found themselves there after the real witching hour would regret it, as the restless spirits and lost souls came out to play. But she had to admit she wanted to see a ghost, she wanted to know if the supernatural truly existed, or if her imagination would be forever morbidly fanciful.


The night was cold, and she disappeared into it as a column of black: wearing her ankle-length velvet coat and opera gloves. Only her pale face — highlighted by crimson stain upon her lips and wide eyes rimmed with kohl – could be seen among the skeletal trees of the vacant lot as she sat beneath one of them, spreading a blanket upon the damp ground, ready for her vigil. She dozed almost immediately, despite her growing dread.


A sound woke her, one which was immediately beyond her hearing as her eyes fluttered open. The graveyard was shrouded in thick mist, swirling up into the absolute void of the night, faint stars displaying the last of their icy twinkle. The air was still and yet she could feel something...faces, then, out of the mist, forming before her and she was astonished. They all displayed different expressions and she tried to speak to them but her tongue failed her, as much from cold as any sense of fright. But then one face came closer than the others, it took the form of a beautiful stranger who spoke in a whisper so faint she almost didn't hear it above the thudding of her heart.


"Come with us, strange girl. Come and play under the moon."


She looked up and the moon was indeed enormous above the mist, bathing the scene in the most brilliant shine. And she smiled to know that they were real, the ghosts, and they recognized her as one of their own.


They found her bookbag and blanket just where she left them, at dawn, but she had moved into the realm of Mystery...forever.

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