I have always been a curious person, which is what led me to dedicate myself to science. That curiosity has also made me a fan of reading horror and science fiction. In this case the cosmic horror of the master H. P. Lovecraft. As in the case of Mictlán, we have developed a new scent based on a story by Charles Dexter Ward. We hope you like it.
—A Fragment Found Among the Papers of Charles Dexter Ward
It was among the curious inventory of the Ward estate, sealed after the young man’s tragic end, that I found the thing: a squat, hand-lathed wooden bowl sealed with pitch. It bore no maker’s mark save for a faded sigil burned into the lid—an ouroboros encircling a retort.
At first I thought it a common relic of grooming. But the scent—it was no ordinary fragrance. Not floral, not musky, but pungent with notes of ash, sea-brine, and something curiously… alive. As I unscrewed the lid, a thin mist curled from the soap, and I felt the room grow colder.
The diary pages that accompanied the object, written in Ward’s increasingly erratic hand, revealed a tale of unearthed formulas found in the writings of Joseph Curwen—his necromantic ancestor. Among them, one labeled "WARD: for the Opening of the Pores Between Worlds." Ward had replicated it, not for hygiene, but for summoning.
He wrote of midnight shavings by candlelight, of hearing whispers rise from the lather, of seeing glimpses in the mirror of a face not his own—leering, ancient, in powdered wig and blood-slick grin.
By the third entry, Ward claimed that the act of shaving had become a rite: a bloodless sacrifice, opening rifts that allowed him to speak with those who had passed beyond. He would write down their secrets, their names. He dared even to speak with Curwen himself.
But the final note chilled me to the marrow:
"The soap grows stronger. I need not chant now. It knows the blade. It knows the flesh. And soon—it will shave me clean of this weak shell entirely."
I have since sealed the bowl again. But sometimes at night, from the cabinet, I hear a faint scritch-scritch sound… as if a razor slides across unseen skin
Ingredients: Water, Cocoa Butter, Mango, Shea, Castor Oil, Stearic Acid, Potassium Hydroxide, Sodium Hydroxide, Glycerin, and Fragrance.
I have always been a curious person, which is what led me to dedicate myself to science. That curiosity has also made me a fan of reading horror and science fiction. In this case the cosmic horror of the master H. P. Lovecraft. As in the case of Mictlán, we have developed a new scent based on a story by Charles Dexter Ward. We hope you like it.
—A Fragment Found Among the Papers of Charles Dexter Ward
It was among the curious inventory of the Ward estate, sealed after the young man’s tragic end, that I found the thing: a squat, hand-lathed wooden bowl sealed with pitch. It bore no maker’s mark save for a faded sigil burned into the lid—an ouroboros encircling a retort.
At first I thought it a common relic of grooming. But the scent—it was no ordinary fragrance. Not floral, not musky, but pungent with notes of ash, sea-brine, and something curiously… alive. As I unscrewed the lid, a thin mist curled from the soap, and I felt the room grow colder.
The diary pages that accompanied the object, written in Ward’s increasingly erratic hand, revealed a tale of unearthed formulas found in the writings of Joseph Curwen—his necromantic ancestor. Among them, one labeled "WARD: for the Opening of the Pores Between Worlds." Ward had replicated it, not for hygiene, but for summoning.
He wrote of midnight shavings by candlelight, of hearing whispers rise from the lather, of seeing glimpses in the mirror of a face not his own—leering, ancient, in powdered wig and blood-slick grin.
By the third entry, Ward claimed that the act of shaving had become a rite: a bloodless sacrifice, opening rifts that allowed him to speak with those who had passed beyond. He would write down their secrets, their names. He dared even to speak with Curwen himself.
But the final note chilled me to the marrow:
"The soap grows stronger. I need not chant now. It knows the blade. It knows the flesh. And soon—it will shave me clean of this weak shell entirely."
I have since sealed the bowl again. But sometimes at night, from the cabinet, I hear a faint scritch-scritch sound… as if a razor slides across unseen skin
Ingredients: Water, Cocoa Butter, Mango, Shea, Castor Oil, Stearic Acid, Potassium Hydroxide, Sodium Hydroxide, Glycerin, and Fragrance.