The Last Breath (Ursine)

The Ursine Mask

November 1989. Deptford, South London. The Berlin Wall falls whilst frost grips the Thames, winter gloom trapping river fog against windows that frost from within.

In a top-floor bedsit, a solitary woman constructs her final work: a papier mâché mask shaped from newspapers selected by taste rather than content, pages that carry the flavour of departure upon her tongue.

The mask bears no eyeholes, no mouth opening, its features merging human and animal into something belonging to neither realm.

Three days after her death, police discover her seated upright, hands folded, the mask covering her face in a bone-cold flat where mirrors hang covered in black cloth and iron filings mark the floor, yet the mask itself remains inexplicably warm to the touch.

The Last Breath

She understood what few practitioners dare acknowledge: that the ancient one responds not to command but to courtesy. That He who reveals divine secrets and transforms perception itself might be invited through proper preparation rather than coercion. That true invocation requires the practitioner to become the vessel, not merely to summon into one.

Her method was radical: the suspended breath. Not the release of final exhalation, but its eternal suspension.

Death arriving whilst the breath is held, creating a permanent threshold between states. The mask becomes not a barrier but a bridge.

The police report notes troubling details. Neighbours heard nothing for days except, perhaps, a single long exhalation on the night of her demise. The ritual markings on the floor suggested weeks of preparation. The covered mirrors, the sealed windows, the single burnt candle all indicated a working of considerable sophistication.

The Present

The mask now rests on a simple wooden stand in my collection. Thirty-five years have passed since that November night, yet it retains an unsettling presence. Visitors often remark on the temperature drop when approaching it, though the thermostat never changes.

When I share the newspaper article from 1989, reactions vary. Some focus on the clinical details: woman found dead, unusual circumstances, investigation closed. Others notice what the journalist couldn't quite articulate: the wrongness of it all, the sense that something significant occurred beyond a solitary death in Deptford.

I sometimes suggest we follow her method, just the beginning. "Breathe in," I say, and we do. "Hold it." The room grows quiet. "Now release." The exhalation fills the space. "Again, deeper this time." We breathe together, conscious suddenly of this automatic act we perform thousands of times daily without thought. "Once more," I suggest, "but this time, hold the breath. Feel what she felt in those final moments."

It's during this suspended moment, when everyone holds their breath in unison, that the mask responds. A single, long exhalation emerges from behind those sealed features. The breath she never released, finally escaping after three and a half decades.

Her final note found alongside her body raises more questions than it answers. Nine lines written in red marker across old newsprint, instructions that seem straightforward until you realise they're anything but. "Don't wait for me to return," it begins. The careful reader might notice hidden meaning. What was she telling us? What did she want us to understand?

Some visitors claim the mask appears different after the breath releases, though photographs show no change. Others report dreams following their encounter, always the same: standing in a cold flat, looking at covered mirrors, knowing something waits behind the black cloth. 

The question remains: what would possess someone to hold their final breath? What negotiation required such complete commitment? The mask watches from its stand, patient as always, waiting for someone else to understand what she understood in those last moments of November 1989.

Genuine Occult Artefact

Note that the mask is an genuine, original occult artefact acquired from the estate of a now deceased practising witch and made by her in the late 1980s.

This is no reproduction.

Irrespective of the effect, this genuine ritual object carries its own considerable presence, having been crafted for and used in actual workings before becoming part of this extraordinary story. Beyond its esoteric significance, the mask serves as a striking display piece, whether exhibited in a cabinet of curiosities or positioned as a singular focal point.

Inventory

• Original 1989 papier mâché mask (original, occult and made in 1989)
• Black wooden display stand with concealed sound system and wireless remote trigger
• A local newspaper report detailing the discovery of her body(reproduction)
• The final note with hidden acrostic (reproduction)
• Performance manual
• Technical manual
• Certificate of authenticity

The wooden display stand conceals a Laudanum House Vox Umbra sound system with wireless remote trigger. The Vox Umbra comes preloaded with "the final exhale" sound effect to allow performance of the Final Breath. It can, however, be configured to play any sound of your choosing if you would prefer.

All details on how to re-configure sounds or timing, and how to replace batteries etc. are included in the technical manual.