Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dark dreams

  • Beneath The Darkness

    Beneath The Darkness

    Beneath the darkness, I built my imaginary castle, hovering like a phantom over me, filled with bitter memories and wicked resentment. The night appeared to me like an immense creature, ready to swallow all my blissful hopes, leaving me only with its heartbreaking gifts as a substitute for my dreams. Melancholic longings wound around me like ivy tendrils, always letting me perceive the liberty that I lost long ago. A sudden thunder would have made me shudder, but it wasn’t the case, since I had lost every spark of fear in that realm of darkness and nightmares. The stars were staring at me like curious creatures ready to judge every single emotion of mine.

    The solitude tried to comfort me in vain, for I were not accustomed to those gloomy clouds on the horizon, ready to rapture my hopes of deliverance. My beloved raven handed me the chalice of oblivion, nevertheless, I embraced my desire to decrypt ancient manuscripts, whose dust adorned them with peculiar hues. The night attired me with an obsidian cloak embellished with gold and stardust. I could see the moonlight sink deep into the fierce, tumultuous river, reflecting my thoughts like a mirror of truth. Could I make acquaintance with my fears and anguishes swarming around me like haunting ghosts? I knew not what could possibly be in my unpredictable fate’s designs.

    Beneath the darkness, shadows emerged like quirky spectres willing to catch every glimpse of my heart, which kept its everlasting flame alive, even though it was destined to fade away. Unaware of my destiny, I proceeded uncautiously in my gloomy descent filled with dark shadows and unbearable secrets. Silently and slowly, the night revealed me to endure my painful dismay like an ethereal flower floating in the aether. Meanwhile, the moon greeted me behind a thick blanket of dark clouds, and I lost all my hesitation to allow entrance to the most devoted nightmares of my lonely nights in the abyss of oblivion and darkness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Restlessness Of The Night

    The Restlessness Of The Night

    The restlessness of the night never left my quiet chamber adorned with ancient mirrors and candles extinguished by the freezing wind of the darkness.
    The silence helped my nightmares discourage my heart from holding dear its long-coveted desires.
    Henceforth, I tried not to panic when I realised that I couldn’t find any image of myself in the mirrors of my antique manor.
    Not even a portrait was there and each time I tried to perceive my countenance, all I could discover was a box full of sand and decay.
    The hours sang an elegy for the passing of the night that was infinite and determined to rule hegemony in the realm of my bizarre fantasies and odd revelations.
    Magic dreams were only faraway illusions that had been bestowed to me once again only to be left in the abyss of despair with nothing but my vest full of sand and decay.

    The restlessness of the night offered me the goblet of eternal torment, alluring me with fairy tales and foolish legends.
    I wished to become an invisible creature of the gloomy night, however, I could do nothing but observe my name inscribed on every wall and book that I had encountered.
    No importance was given to my will since the day I was born beneath the hollow trees of dismay.
    The stars manifested their disregard for me, leaving me in my senseless loneliness, at the mercy of the raging storms that would have swept me away.
    In vain, I claimed my liberty from that misfortune, but they came to claim me and all that once was mine, the ghouls from the archaic world of my past misadventures.
    Perhaps I could have forgotten the sensations of delight and gentle euphoria.
    The restlessness of the night had become the portal to my agony and everlasting grief, which never abandoned my aching heart.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • In The Abyss Of Nightmares

    In The Abyss Of Nightmares

    In the abyss of nightmares, I belonged for epochs, which lasted as long as the obliteration of my dreams became predominant. Perpetually, the invasive obsession with liberty and chance came to me oddly; nevertheless, I was not able to grasp the flower of resilience, which was far too unreachable. Soon I realised that the nights had overtaken the days and the sun was forever gone.

    The echo of my lost dreams reverberated like a scream from the infernal abode of the forsaken ghouls, whose souls were being kept in a jar of gold and crystals. I didn’t ask for that lugubre situation, as my heartbeat was as slow as the tolling of an antique clock, accustomed to no longer marking time—not even for the mirrors. A downpour supervened, interrupting that solemn silence.

    In the abyss of nightmares, I discovered that losing all my hopes and dreams had become my delight and bliss as if I enjoyed the misery I was destined to endure since the beginning of eras. As long as darkness was eternity, no feeling of compassion or consolation could soothe my heart, which had become a stone, for the nightmares were caring for my soul.

    Each phantom I encountered showed me a book made of tears and memories, then flashed a sneer at me, as if satisfied to accompany me to the valley of despair and decay. And there I lay on the gelid soil that absorbed every teardrop of mine, giving life to flowers whose petals were made of sharp rocks. No reprieve was hidden behind the portals of that realm under the sovereignty of shadows and darkness.

    I didn’t even need to escape from that place anymore because it had become the most intrinsic part of myself as if I were a creature of the abyss of nightmares and perpetual storms since eternity. And even the sun had melted with the moon transforming into a black star likely a massive sphere of obsidian irradiating me with its powerful gloominess as if to welcome me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant dreams appeared like magnificent paintings of different natures, making me feel all those emotions I never felt in real life. I wondered what it would be possible to achieve in my marvellous fantasies. Nevertheless, I never realised in my entire existence what my fate wanted me to understand through prophecies and nightmares.

    The antique clock struck each hour, while its pendulum swung relentlessly from side to side, echoing the inexorable passage of time, and inducing me to find my magic manuscript of phantasmagorias and peculiarities. In truth, I had the intention to cast a spell over the moon and the stars. My vanity allowed me to relinquish all control over my heart and I was finally able to see the chaos and power of my imagination.

    Extravagant dreams became my secret treasures in the lonely nights whenever the clouds covered all the luminaries, hiding the moon in their soft gloominess. Every time I awakened in the middle of the night only to realise that there was no possibility to question the stars about my shadows and destiny. Since bedlam ruled my life, my heart knew no certitudes but an exigent desire to look at the swarthy face of the moon.

    Majestic ravens were my loyal witnesses to my endless thirst for vengeance. Indeed, I so often dreamed of seeing justice appear in the shape of frightening ghouls as a gift to those entities that had mistreated me so badly. My awkward and extravagant dreams were constantly my guides, willing to soothe all my resentments and grief, which were huge burdens inside my heart like inextinguishable flames.

    Silence didn’t succeed in pacifying all my trepidations, in fact, I was by then at the mercy of the tumultuous winds of an approaching storm. I couldn’t even listen properly to the echoes of my thoughts lingering in the emptiness of the night like withered flowers. Extravagant dreams were no longer my shadows following me everywhere, instead, there was only a bare landscape with no trees, just a few meadows and the dust of my memories which were not there with me anymore.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Death Behind Dreams

    The Death Behind Dreams

    The Death Behind Dreams
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The death behind dreams was a consequence of illusion and betrayal. The world of dreams had always been the only refuge for her—a realm where the rules of reality no longer applied, where the impossible became tangible, and where the weight of life could be forgotten. But now, even her dreams had turned against her, becoming a prison of their own making. She no longer awoke with a sense of wonder but with a deep, gnawing dread. The dreams were darker now, twisted into nightmares that she could not escape. Each time she closed her eyes, she knew what awaited her on the other side—a place where every hope went to die.

    She found herself standing in a vast, empty field, the sky above her a sickly shade of gloominess. The air was filled with misery and decay, and the ground beneath her feet was soft and yielding, as though it might be ready to swallow her whole at any moment. In the distance, she could see shadowy shapes moving, but no matter how far she walked, they remained just out of reach. They whispered to her words she could not understand, their utterances carrying a sense of foreboding that chilled her to the bone.

    She tried to wake herself up, to break free from the grip of dreams, but her body would not respond. It was as though she had been trapped in that surreal realm, forced to endure the nightmare with no expectancy of escape. The death behind dreams was behind the line between reality and the dream world, which had blurred, and she no longer knew which was which. The days had become a blur of fear and distress, and the nights were worse. Sleep had once been a solace, but now it was an exhausting curse.

    With each passing night, her dreams became more flamboyant, and her sense of dread became more assertive. She wandered through frightening labyrinths that twisted and turned in unimaginable ways, leading her deeper into the darkness. The walls seemed to close in around her, and the meadow seemed to alter into suffocating thorns. She could hear her own heartbeat, a steady thrum of panic that echoed in her ears. She was suffocating, drowning in an ocean of shadows with no way out.

    And always, there was a presence lurking behind the dreams, watching her, waiting. It was the death behind dreams, a force that stripped away all joy and hope and left nothing but despair in its eternal slumber.

  • In The Dark Of Shadows

    In The Dark Of Shadows

    In the dark of shadows, sadness wove its tale,
    Moonlight gleamed like silver through a misty veil,
    Obscure secrets fluttered underneath ancient trees,
    Where the wind’s lament echoed ghostly pleas.

    Silent shrieks reverberated in the night’s embrace,
    Clouds danced like phantoms in hidden places,
    Stars glinted like the eyes of spectres gone astray,
    Leading through the gloom, where forgotten pathways lay.

    The murmur of the river sang a sombre tune,
    Reflecting on broken mirrors beneath the haunted moon,
    Cloaked in night’s deep sorrow, the forest softly wept,
    For dreams hid abandoned, where the darkness crept.

    Through the tangled branches, memories entwined,
    Of souls who wandered restlessly through the sands of time,
    A shiver that enveloped murmurs of the past,
    Stories were left unspoken, and shadows were cast.

    In the dark of shadows, where time itself never died,
    Lost loves and broken promises haunted the midnight freeze,
    The ivy on the gravestones and rustles in the breeze,
    Revealing silent verses to the withered leaves.

    Beneath the pallid starlight, memories and regrets stood alone,
    In the heart of silence, where ancient sorrows groaned,
    Eyes that burned like embers in the cold and dark nights,
    Seeking solace in the whispers of the ghostly light.

    The darkness held a mirror to the soul’s deep well,
    Reflecting hidden fears in its shadowed spell,
    In the dark of shadows, truths were concealed,
    Of arcane sorrows and mysteries still sealed.

    So lingered in the twilight, where shadows wove and wended,
    Silence kept all the dark dreams,
    For in the heart of night, where shadows softly faded away,
    Enigmas hid beneath the eternal darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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