Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: arcane secrets

  • I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I fell in love with my demons, and I wandered alone like a feral creature in the forest, feeling lust every time I tasted blood, suspended in the eternity of darkness. I was haunted and viciously allured by creatures of the night.

    I sought my reflection in broken mirrors adorned with bones and silver. However, I was never capable of seeing my countenance in them. My bed was a coffin, and my only devoted accomplices were evil ghouls and skulls.

    Every night, I drowned in the ocean of tears made of pain and anguish. The only light I could gaze upon was the crimson moonlight staring at me ferociously. As much as I tried to avoid my phobias and nightmares, they constantly terrified me in the shapes of shadows and ghosts.

    I mourned through the endless night over all the despair and distress I could no longer avoid. Exhaustion consumed me entirely. The most agonising fears penetrated my heart with their thorns like prickly brambles.

    I was perpetually entangled in ruinous dismay, and I was ensnared in a web of anguish and obsession. A burning flame overwhelmed my heart, devouring it. I was transformed into a spectre made of fire and frost.

    I fell in love with my nightmares, and I embraced all the pain I was destined to endure. My yearnings were my ruin, and I surrendered to their devastation. I didn’t fight against doom and decay anymore; I became them.

    I took advantage of my secret haven carved in ice and fire. Darkness didn’t scare me any longer, for I was made of gloom and shadows. Absurdity became my norm as I was altered into a complete oddity. I stood as a total aberration before mortal eyes.

    No creature could save me from that deadly and tainted chasm, where I finally embraced my most authentic essence. I fell in love with everlasting harm and obliteration. I rediscovered devotion and bliss in delirium and hallucinations.

    My utmost pleasure was losing my heart, which was impaled to death by the demons I cherished the most. I clasped my madness with a rope made of thorns and hooks. I sprawled on ashes and dust, sinking into an eternal slumber.

    Eternity and death were in me, as well as the steady necessity to sense distress. Pain was an exquisite gift that my evils offered to me. I transmuted to darkness and oblivion. I had no name, and no mirror could reflect my countenance.

    Obsession and tragedy were engraved in my flesh and bones. A deluge of frenzied festered into form, blooming like stone flowers. The eternal night welcomed me and revealed to me all its arcane secrets.

    The sound of solitude rumbled like a menacing roar. The only light shining over me was the crimson moonlight, soaked in remembrances and forbidden oaths. I fell in love with my demons and dismay. Every teardrop of mine became decay.

    Tormented ruins and relics emerged in the graveyard of my deceased dreams. The stars halted to shed light on me. Darkness became eternity and infinity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Realm Of The Sun And Moon

    The Realm Of The Sun And Moon

    The realm of the Sun and Moon
    Where ancient relics breathed in golden haze,
    Surrounded by tomes of forgotten tongues,
    Their pages whispering spells and silences.
    I know not if it was a dream or a waking fate—
    Only that I stood within that timeless place,
    Among winged spirits, guardians of old lore,
    Keepers of art, of secrets rare and bright.

    Amidst the briars and enchanted rose,
    Their fragrance weaves spells upon the air,
    I glimpsed the runes of magic, veiled in mist—
    Meanings beyond the reach of mortal mind.
    Yet, ignorance fades when the heart connects,
    And whispers join the silent sacred lore.

    Graceful creatures lingered in the air,
    Above, as if to spy the stars’ embrace,
    The firmament is adorned with pastel hues,
    Veiled softly by the twilight’s whispered clouds,
    That sometimes hinted at storms yet to unfold,
    A brewing tempest cloaked in quiet light.

    Within the sacredness and splendour of this realm of art and wisdom,
    I found myself in a state of amnesia and torpor,
    as if someone had erased all memory from my mind.
    I no longer recalled my past,
    Nor did I grasp the very notion of time.
    I had become part of that marvellous vision,
    that dream,
    that chimaera —
    untouchable and unseen by human eyes.

    All that my heart could grasp
    was splendour and sublimity,
    and the eternity —
    though fleeting —
    of all that my eyes perceived:
    The essence of beauty,
    and the essence of timeless wisdom.

    The realm of the Sun and Moon unfolded like a casket
    Of precious gems and arcane secrets.
    There I lingered, a captive and a nymph of the ancient library,
    Adorned with transcendent roses in full splendour,
    And with thorny briars, sharp and unforgiving,
    Poised to carve wounds deep within my heart.

    Sweet were the poems I inscribed
    Within its still-blank manuscripts,
    Each word etched by the whispers of my heart.
    And in the silence, the glow of the firmament
    Wrapped me gently in its hues—
    At times resplendent, at times shadowed,
    Like the mystery veiled within the night.
    Elisabetta

  • The Garden of Nightmares

    The Garden of Nightmares

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    The garden of nightmares was a wonder in the realm of fantasy,
    None could have touched the flowers of such an enchanting garden,
    Full of magic spells and arcane secrets.

    So oftentimes, it was the obsession of dreamers,
    Those who were aware of the potential dangers of such a magical place,
    Where thorns were welcome, and no scent would perfume its aura.

    Echoes of choirs singing ancient melodies revived that realm,
    A world that existed only in the imagination of the subconscious,
    A lonely and distant kingdom of beauty and torment.

    Not safe was incautiously confiding dark secrets in this hidden alcove,
    A garden whose meadows and trees were rooted in deception and betrayal,
    Leaving to luring desires the task of enchantment among luscious flowers.

    In the garden of nightmares, each petal whispered secrets, wrapped in shadows’ embrace,
    While the moonlight danced softly, casting dreams on the night sky,
    In this garden, silence sang, a melody bittersweet.

    Where the vibrant hues of joy clashed with sorrow’s deceit,
    The aura was loaded with nostalgia; each whisper was a haunting sigh,
    Dreamers wandered through the maze, drawn to what might lie.

    Beneath the surface of beauty, where the heartbeats echoed slowly,
    A realm of contrasts, light and dark, where both delight and anguish grew,
    Yet, amidst the splendour, a red flag lingered near.

    For the siren call of yearning masked the lurking fear,
    Every bloom bore witness to a soul’s forsaken plight,
    Trapped within a labyrinth, lost between day and night.

    In the garden of nightmares, some dared to linger, intoxicated by the view,
    Chasing visions of a paradise where fantasies come true,
    But the thorns they had ignored drew blood from tender dreams.

    And this orchard of phantoms revealed its silent screams,
    Thus, tread lightly in the dusk where wishes intertwine,
    For within that haunting beauty lies a truth so hard to find.

    The garden, a mirror reflecting one’s innermost desires,
    A sanctuary of longings still set ablaze with fire.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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