Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

The Enchanted Manuscript Of Elisabetta Esther

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical chimaeras blossomed in my garden of extravagant flowers and frenetic trees. When the silent valley of dreams was crammed with forbidden hopes, and the stars never hesitated to shine. It was my delusional fantasy and my secret inner world, where I could be free from mortal dogmas, made of aberrant rules.

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and uncommon turmoil. Foolishness was my only state of mind, and every portal could unlock for me. I wept, and I sighed, as if it were my only way to express myself. The cold night wind hushed my aching heart, filling it with fear and torment.

    The snow painted the soil with white crystalline hues, while my slumber had kept my heart from aching more copiously. I had lost the capability to listen to melodies, but all that I could hear was a fanfare chanting death and defeat. My whimsical chimaeras had transformed into shadows and darkness.

    I had become a stranger in my own realm, which I couldn’t recognise any longer at all. I felt like I was stripped of all my delusional dreams, which I considered my only comfort and sweet haven. No candied flowers or chocolate-coated leaves prospered in my garden, which was now nothing but a land of frost and thorns.

    The reality had transmuted into a sharp dagger, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, transforming it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks that ripped me apart.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it bled copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, reducing it to misery and dismay. Shallowness had taken over, and what appeared loudest and most false had replaced what was authentic and sublime.

    Darkness, together with the moon and the stars, was a cynical witness to every single occurrence. Silence had sealed my lips, and I was no longer able to make a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was already buried before dying. I was buried a long time ago by the hands of my delusional fantasies and absurd expectancies. I was conscious of my decay and that I would soon embrace my final demise. In that exquisite garden of bygone flowers, I lay in wait for my very last moment of life.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers appeared in all its majesty and magnificence, hiding arcane secrets and alluring spells of lost loves that were now just a scatter of dust and blood. My wicked heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been pierced lusciously by devilish ghouls.

    In the certitude that no creature loved me but all that I could cherish was the despised portrait of my dreams, which had been buried alive in the graveyard of my luscious flowers. Sweet funeral melodies floated like a gentle winter breeze, making me melt like a snowflake under the sun.

    I huddled among the gravestones looking, for a trace of one of my flowers but I searched in vain because I found only slimy earth and ice. I could see shadows peeking out from the dry branches of dead trees, whose roots were soaked in despair and bones.

    An exquisite storm ripped me apart and stole my shattered heart, along with all my desires and dreams. I dared to chase all the stars of the night sky; nevertheless, I couldn’t find them because they were not there for me. I had altered into an ethereal entity. I wasn’t alive. I wasn’t dead.

    I fantasised about pointed shining swords and crimson incense, whenever a demon would seize me like a disposable porcelain doll. I wasn’t made of blood and bones anymore. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and madness. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made coffin.

    I embraced the realm of death and depravity, and like a fierce ghost, I hunted treasure chests with hearts locked inside. Because, I yearned for love and passion, like a flower in the desert craved water. I was an everlasting flame, and I was a frosty blizzard.

    I enjoyed being a wicked sorceress, ready to cast evil spells, and finding delight in my graveyard, confiding in my crows, skulls, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting sweet and bitter poisons and sipping the blood of my mortal prey. I swallowed nonsense and fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.

    I was disdain and love. I was death and life. I was darkness and light. I was lust and virginity. I was madness and wisdom. I was corruption and purity. I was horror and beauty. I was cruelty and virtue. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.

    I was charred alive because of my foolish and insatiable lusts. Having no blood, flesh or bones, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for torture and stupor was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my blood had been splattered upon the stormy wind and all my bones had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of demons and witches, and embracing the doom became my only dream.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Garden Of Oblivion

    The Garden Of Oblivion

    The garden of oblivion became my secret hideaway, where I could fall into total despair, crying out all my disillusionments. A garden of frozen flowers and broken mirrors unfolded before me. Fragments of broken mirrors sliced my heart into bleeding shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its grace.

    I was a forsaken creature lost in my trail of lost passions and abandoned to my loneliness. I wandered like a dead soul without any aim to survive since I had lost all my treasures and nothing more was important to cherish. So, cast away from the other worlds, I sought haven in this surreal realm of my own invention.

    Love was a perfect stranger to me since my past existences, when utopian trees and flowers surrounded me all the time with their intoxicating scents and bright colours, leaving sweet caresses in my heart. In this age of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.

    Lost in labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths who never hesitated to grab me with their claws sharp as merciless daggers. My madness grew each night quickly, as soon as I could stare into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and scream at it with all my feral fury.

    Wandering infinitely among shards of broken mirrors and withered flowers, in the realm of shadows and dismay, was all that remained to me. I was a part of that world of doom and oblivion, although all that I desired was to be in an idyllic kingdom of delights and sparkling luminaries.

    The garden of oblivion possessed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of death, while I cried tears made of blood and sorrow. My tragic fate had deprived me of everything, and no longing was evermore granted to me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Enchanted Nights

    My Enchanted Nights

    My enchanted nights perished one by one, like creatures dying and being reborn, melting into a single, unique, and everlasting night. I fell in love, time and again, with monsters in the guise of magnificent and exquisite angels. I spent my endless nights casting spells and magic upon mortal souls.

    I felt mad and sore as my heart was pounding in all its fury, like a winter storm at full might. My scorched heart had been repeatedly stabbed and torn to pieces. I cried and screamed in vain into the emptiness of the nocturnal sky, where I couldn’t see any stars.

    I was dressed in dismay and grief, while the shadows of my beloved darkness wrapped me in their ethereal veil, begging all the ghosts of my imaginary realm to set me free from all the anguish and pangs I was condemned to hold in my bleeding heart.

    In my enchanted nights, I was intoxicated by poison potions and magic spells, wondering if there was some way to flee my infamous fate, unsure as I felt myself in that absolute silence that enveloped me inexorably.

    Distracted by enchanting melodies and disruptive rhymes that echoed in my mind, I became a part of the magical maelstrom that dragged me into the abyss of swoon and oblivion. I had transformed into a creature that refused the order of the mortal world.

    My enchanted nights imbued me with chaos and stardust, inducing me to fall apart and renounce all the dreams I had once made an oath to. So much was I steeped in poison and witchcraft that I had forsaken my promises.

    I had always been cursed by dreadful premonitions, as I was doomed to perish in decay and obliteration. My bygone, enchanted nights, made of glimmering luminaries, were nothing but faraway reveries.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Shadow Of Death

    The Shadow Of Death

    The shadow of death was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, tearing from my heart every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure. It was a distorted mirror that reflected my anguish and my fears. It filled my cell with scarlet red incense, which constantly suffocated me, stifling me and preventing me from seeing my own image.

    I lived this suffocating and abominable pseudo‑reality in constant terror, no longer understanding whether it was real or a surreal fantasy, the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those distressing candles that burned me alive every time I approached their presence.

    The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to cry out and scream my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the subterranean world of the afterlife to which, apparently, I now belonged.

    Amid dust and drops of my blood, I was relegated like a lifeless creature, feeding on the faint light of the blood‑red candles, and that suffocating incense that penetrated every part of my body. Even the stars refused to cast light into that narrow cell, where my pierced heart had been nailed to a dilapidated wall as if it were a souvenir on display.

    I no longer had the capacity to harbour a desire or to hope for an existence wrapped in enchanted flowers and love spells. Everything I had dreamed of I had lost in the abyss of obliteration, and all that I had vainly pursued in my miserable existence had vanished, having only materialised into a bleak and mortifying prison for my soul.

    And thus I vanished into that menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and indifferent rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of death, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long shunned, which, despite everything, had devoured me entirely and inescapably.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles of sadness manifested in the gloomy forest of my dreams. Lulled by a torpor of defeat and annihilation, I attempted to traverse a place unknown to me, with astonishment and wonder, yet, at the same time, with a heart steeped in sadness.

    Although the silver moon illuminated this unknown and dark forest, the further I proceeded, the more it seemed that I was losing myself in oblivion and in the abyss of my fears and uncertainties, for it was there that I was rooted; my heart was torn by a sense of suspension into the void.

    Indeed, I was overwhelmed by my nightmares, which slowly revealed themselves in the shapes of ghosts and wraiths, as I proceeded along my uncertain path without a clear destination. My gentle pains, which scourged my heart and disturbed my mind, rendered me powerless in the face of such apparitions.

    Even unwillingly, I had fallen victim to a vicious and infamous game of which I was not the author. And I could not even, powerless as I was, awaken from that deadly torpor, which was destroying me every night, as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to annihilate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of that condition of misery and decay. My heart was lacerated and bled all my hopes like a raging cascade.

    Suffering and pain were the only faithful companions that followed me everywhere. In this realm of sepulchral silence and sighs of souls that could find no peace, I remained still, awaiting my demise.

    Bloodless, exhausted, I could no longer proceed and I fell beneath the weight of my own anguish, as if it were made of gigantic, menacing clouds bearing down upon me. And thus I vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of sparkles of sadness and blood, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My greed, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, crushing it with all its essence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground. Alas, misery had destined me to be its sacrificial victim. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel fate.

    However much I loved love and the delights of an existence made of dreams and gentle flowers. Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless crypt, I sought refuge in my fantasy, pursuing with my withered soul, steeped in sorrow, all my most hidden and forbidden desires.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there are drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark alcove. Nor was I allowed to see the stars, ever again in my lugubrious existence—such was my fatal destiny.

    My only companion was my perpetual candle, which illuminated my lugubrious space, merely to remind me of my misery, my finitude, and my impotence. Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the decrepit walls, dilapidated by the storms.

    The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their affection, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat. While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and bloodless heart.

    Threatening shadows embodied my fears and my most turbid secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul. And so, between resignation and funerary torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a stone statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the destruction of my heart, my essence, my very self—total obliteration and oblivion. They were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Spells And Dreams

    Spells And Dreams

    Spells and dreams animated the garden of the night
    My words became ghosts, and their shapes were hunting nightmares
    Even the frost of the winter night couldn’t awaken me from my eternal slumber
    Indeed, I had fallen victim to a vicious enchantment
    Magic ruled my existence, in the shape of books and arcane tales
    I couldn’t help but follow the alluring call that hypnotised me like a live spell
    Luscious flowers had covered my body, and my heart felt feral
    The night dew moistened all the captivating flowers in my garden
    Love would never die within me, as I embodied untamed passions

    Spells and dreams visited every night of mine
    They came to me as phantoms and demons, though they were not always nightmares
    It was an unexpected and unavoidable fable
    I suddenly succumbed to their enticing frolics
    For I was naïve and oblivious of the consequences
    Letting these haunting creatures take advantage of me and possess me with all their might
    And even if it was silly nonsense, my fate was entangled with darkness and doom
    I was willingly joyous for this bizarre and painful outcome
    Merriment and wisdom faded away, being replaced by perils and folly
    I chose to devote myself entirely to a realm where my heart was all flames and blood
    Where daggers were piercing me voluptuously, like feathers of pleasure

    This garden of mine was no longer a wonderland
    All the flowers had turned garnet
    They sipped life from my blood, and I grew weaker and weaker
    I perished from my own silliness, chasing my desires and yearning for nonsensical passions
    The stars had already been eclipsed by the tempestuous sky
    The sharp blades of poisoned daggers prevailed with vicious cruelty
    I was encircled by the hostile wraiths of gloom
    Their indifferent gazes traced the collapse of my heart
    And in deafening silence, my end came to life.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Infinity And Phantasmagoric Fantasies

    Infinity And Phantasmagoric Fantasies

    Infinity and phantasmagoric fantasies were my kingdom of dust and decay
    A divine refuge where I could fly freely like a fairy
    When the storm of fears and dismay came upon me
    I craved love and devotion like a thirsty blossom seeking the rain
    Nevertheless, what I could find were silver daggers and poison ampoules
    Silence was the only sound I could hear in my lonely and endless nights
    My beating heart was full of spells and illusions, trying to fill the void with silly desires
    Although I had whispered my secrets to the luminaries glimmering in the night firmament

    I could listen to the time ticking as it slipped like heavy raindrops
    The flickering candlelight kept me warm while my heart sank in the gelid ocean of sorrow
    For I was exiled to an evanescent world
    Where everything was ephemeral and illusory
    And as much as I could cling to false hopes, nowhere was destined to ever become my beloved alcove
    For I was fated to wander evermore without any guidance or aim
    Quaffing poisoned potions, I fed my soul with venom and fire
    Perceiving my descent into the chasm of self-destruction
    Having become a fierce sorceress ready for any kind of danger

    Lost lyrics echoed in my mind as if they were fragments of my memories
    The suspense of my fragility made me shiver like a frosty draught
    I got lost in my dreams, dreaming of infinity and phantasmagoric fantasies
    For I was a dream myself, mesmerised by the beauty of my own imagination
    Shunning the bitter truth that my broken mirrors insisted on screaming at me
    All along, I was made of illusions, even though my broken heart persisted in loving chimaeras and ghosts.
    Sinking into the infinite abyss of nothingness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Dreams And Tears

    Dreams And Tears

    Dreams and tears, in an age when night knew no end
    I dreamed while crying, my tears steeped in infamous bruises
    I was a sorceress obsessed with luscious crimson flowers
    I was the most impure and tainted blossom in the garden of the eternal night
    Where I envisioned dirty fantasies and sensual chimaeras
    I had become possessed by darkness and obsessions
    My longings morphed into moths and biting incubi

    My obsessions devoured me in their dim realm of seduction and destruction
    I lay naked upon the wet and frozen earth
    Powerless as I was in front of the immensity of an ocean of nonsense and decadence
    Secluded in my alcove of madness, I passed my nights among nightmares
    Born to be the victim of my own insanity
    When petals of frenzy pierced me like tiny daggers of folly
    Opening the portal to an obscure realm whose knowledge devastated me permanently
    I was shattered and not willing to see my own reflection in mirrors

    I felt the full weight of my anguish on my chest
    As if a lustful spectre rested viciously upon my body
    While the snow caressed me, as if it were its purpose to soothe my languid soul
    My tears never left my face, descending onto the frozen soil and making blossom flowers of fire and darkness
    The crimson moon cast faint glimmers across the night sky
    Amid the chaos, the luminaries emerged in the shape of sparkling gems
    And the firmament echoed my name through the stygian abyss

    Sulfurous and gloomy clouds concealed all the stars, enveloping the night in total murkiness
    All my dreams were burnt, and their ashes were buried beneath my gravestone
    I became infinite, and nothingness as well, surrounded by fiery flowers and pearls of blood
    The everlasting flame within my heart was untamed and filthy, like a feral creature
    And the night penetrated me utterly like a vicious blade, leaving me in absolute stupor.
    Elisabetta Esther

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