Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: doom

  • Upon The Petals Of Intoxicating Beauty

    Upon The Petals Of Intoxicating Beauty

    Upon the petals of intoxicating beauty, as if it were a marvellous flower, I found my haven of love and dreams. I lost touch with my wisdom and embraced my unconscious desires. Passionate as I was, perpetual flames scorched my heart, where all my most audacious secrets were embalmed.

    The winter storm came suddenly, and it made all my flowers fade to a haze of stardust. Love and dreams rumbled in my heart like thunderbolts. In stupor and wonder, I fell into an eternal slumber, in which I couldn’t suffer or feel despair. Frozen and benumbed, I became a part of a realm beyond time and space.

    Among stars and clouds, I could see the rainbow of my derealization. I was inflamed and frightened by my own trepidations. I attempted to convey my liberty from past chains, as they strove to bring me down into the abyss of misery. What could I have been in other realities I knew not, while I was lost in broken remembrances.

    The frigid breeze unleashed remembrances and released ancient phantoms from my early past. A vortex of emotions stirred inside me, emptying me of all my enigmas. I wished I could understand what was happening in that very moment. Nevertheless, stupor and hallucinations kept me from wisdom and sanity.

    I felt innocent and fierce, although a bitter dread attempted to fill my heart with infinite emptiness and anguish. I celebrated my resentful loneliness as a treasured gift very dear to me. Every feeling overwhelmed me, and I kept freezing. Every cherished devotion made me hide in the most remote haven.

    I started to talk to mirrors even when they were broken. Each mirror whispered words I didn’t wish to utter or hear. I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t remember my past, since I had lost all connection to past ghouls. I couldn’t find out who I was and where I was. None of my questions had ever found their answer.

    Upon the petals of intoxicating beauty, as if it were a poison spell, I found my demise and eternal doom. My fragility induced me to weep, and I screamed into the darkness of the inexhaustible night. My tears engraved every pang upon my face, running down like garnet streams.

    Thorns and brambles wrapped themselves around me delightfully, making me rejoice with euphoria and bliss. In the ecstasy of contrition and mortification, I found my utmost merriment. Lying helpless and disconsolate, I followed the trails of my reveries, hoping in vain to remember my name.

    I dreamed of exquisite flowers and sweet poisons. I fantasised about petals of intoxicating beauty, until dark shadows dragged me into the abyss of obliteration. I might have been cast into a realm of demise, where spirits and underworld creatures offered me festive and joyful torments.

    In dizziness and elation, I was struck by magical starlight and thunder. Upon the petals of intoxicating beauty, as if it were a marvellous flower, I was defeated and cast away. And lost in the labyrinth of my souvenirs, I could no longer distinguish delusional fantasies from my own ruin.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • 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 a burning passion every time I tasted the night, 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 crystals and silver. However, I was never capable of seeing my countenance in them. My bed wasa sarcophagus, and my only devoted abettors were evil ghouls and ravens.

    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 embodied 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 oblivion and infinity. I rediscovered devotion and bliss in delirium and hallucinations.

    My utmost pleasure was losing my heart, which was speared 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 disintegration were in me, as well as the steady necessity to sense dismay. 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 heart. A deluge of frenzies bloomed 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

  • Whimsical Chimaeras

    Whimsical Chimaeras

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

    Many nights I have wandered, embracing my silliness and bizarre 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 demise and downfall. 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 deprived 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 sword, depriving me of every longing, for I had lost my strength to escape from that snare of descent. Melancholia burnt my heart, altering it into an everlasting torch. I encountered no compassion or tenderness, but pointed hooks of indifference and hatred.

    My heart was wrapped in thorns and quills, and it suffered copiously. Unbearable pangs crossed my body, inflicted by misery and dismay. Shallowness was prevailing, and what appeared noisier and phonier had replaced what was pure and magnificent.

    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 utter a single sound. Definitely, my whimsical chimaeras were just a remote memory of my shattered mind.

    I was burying my dreams and my hope a long time ago, and fell victim to my delusional fantasies and absurd expectations. I was conscious of my decadence 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 mortal essence.
    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 shattered mirrors sundered my heart into crystal shards, which the moonlight illuminated with all its splendour.

    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 period of shadows, I have become just a relic of myself.

    I wandered astray through labyrinths inhabited by ghosts and wraiths, whose claws, merciless as daggers, clasped my dreams. My turmoil rose each night quickly, as soon as I stared into the gloomy emptiness of the ocean and screamed at it with all my untamed acrimony.

    Wandering infinitely among shards of capricious desires 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 claimed me like one of its creatures, having lost my heart, which had disappeared into the abyss of oblivion, while I cried tears made of grief and sorrow. My tragic fate had deprived me of everything, and no longing was evermore granted to me.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Twilight of Ruin

    The Twilight of Ruin

    The twilight of ruin decayed among shadows
    A magnificent graveyard of dreams and desires
    I had to die many times in order to live again
    Terrifying statues were starring to me
    Their eyes made of thorns carved sorrow on my face
    They were the guardians I had buried inside my heart

    The dry tree branches were sharp claws trying to clasp me
    Their elongated roots reached my gown
    Dragging me impetuously towards the secret underworld
    As if death reclaimed me as its precious possession
    And that stillness so soft and pale was a spell for my final demise
    I knew immediately that I was languidly dying

    I was a belonging of the realm of death
    An eternal flame of doom burned inside my heart
    I became an immortal creature of darkness
    A dark fairy flying over the garden of withered roses
    No passions could be reanimated since they faded away
    Blue and grey hues of melancholy tinted my dress

    I felt a fabulous and decadent flower of the night
    I lived an existence of perpetual night and decay
    I loved my seclusion and loneliness beneath a gloomy and cloud sky
    Shadows and ghosts were my loyal companions
    The blades of the rose thorns made me bleed,
    kissing my lips
    The exquisite scent of coffins lingered in the gloom

    I was free and ethereal, like the crimson petal of a rose
    I was not anymore afraid to lose everything once was my belongings
    I was dead and bound to the eternal realm of nothingness
    Devoted and loyal to my grief and anguish, I was married to the dark, eternal hush
    The echoes of the dead alive clung to me like mourning veils
    And I danced, lost beneath the indifferent gaze of the moon at the twilight of ruin.
    Elisabetta

  • Shadows Over Me

    Shadows Over Me

    Shadows over me constantly
    Hunting me like terrifying ghouls
    Frightening me to the bones
    With their obsession

    I decided to abandon myself to the sense of defeat
    A defeat due to my cruel fate of being invisible and negligible
    Like a little sparkle of light destined to its descent into the abyss of darkness
    And so, that was me

    I wish extraordinary phantasmagorias would visit me in my dreams
    But even that was impossible
    So much was the misery of my realm of existence
    Being a negligible creature destined to the cold wind of indifference

    Even the possibility of falling in love with a chimaera and an illusion of mine was a failure
    Destined to ominous omens
    While the rays of the pale moonlight stroke my hair
    I descended again into an eternal and deadly slumber

    I couldn’t see anything but a total obscurity
    I couldn’t hear but an absolute silence
    Dim and dreadful shadows descended over me
    And I couldn’t react or move in this ocean of emptiness

    Defeated again and again by a sense of tragic frailty
    I became a shadow myself
    A shadow bound to a world of lies and deception
    With the inability to flee away
    Being hushed up in an abyss of oblivion

    Being forsaken and abandoned to loneliness
    I only found comfort in the numbness and lack of emotions
    After striving to scream
    I faded away like invisible stardust

    Shadows over me grasped my heart to tear it apart
    Feeling a fractured crystal in the inside
    I couldn’t feel any pang or fear because I was myself anguish and dread
    I became a ghost lingering in the world of death and darkness

    Ethereal as I was, I wandered like a frightful spirit of the night
    Chasing every spark of light I could seize, in vain
    For I was doomed to the realm of darkness and oblivion.
    Elisabetta

  • The Storm of Doom

    The Storm of Doom

    The storm of doom had begun to roar,
    A thunder rolled upon the moor.
    The skies had grown black, the winds unchained,
    As darkness drowned the earth in the rain.

    The lightning had cut a jagged seam,
    A fractured night, a shattered dream.
    It had struck the tower, ancient, grim,
    A tomb for those who dwelled within.

    The windows rattled in their frames,
    The hearth’s flame flickered and then proclaimed,
    Its dying gasp in choking ash,
    While echoes of the lost desires had crashed.

    The walls had wept mould, the ceiling cracked,
    As shadows crawled from ancient tracks.
    Their forms were vague, their voices cried,
    A haunting wail that never died.

    Beneath the storm of doom, despair ruled in all its might,
    Devouring everything in endless nights.
    Its fury had fed on grief and dread,
    And sought the hearts of those misled.

    The ocean had churned in wrath below,
    As wretched waves crashed to and fro.
    The cliffs had eroded, the earth had given way,
    And night consumed the light of day.

    When silence fell and the wind subsided,
    The storm of doom retreated, but death abided.
    Its final sigh had been a chilling hymn,
    For those who had met their fate within.

    In the abyss where shadows and darkness crept,
    Arcane secrets awakened, and the lost souls wept.
    A dance of phantoms, sorrow’s choir,
    Ignited the aura with ghostly fire.

    They whispered tales of what once had been,
    Of lovers lost and ancient scars.
    In every crack, in every sigh,
    The dreams lingered and never died.

    The storm might have faded, but memories clung,
    In haunted hearts, they twisted and sang.
    For as the tempest faded from sight,
    The boundless night consumed every fading light.

    Euphoric and lush senses were only mirages in the imagination of dreamers who fell into oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Spell of Death

    The Spell of Death

    The spell of death was cast beneath the shroud of twilight’s darkness,
    Like a poisonous ivy with tendrils creeping through the shadow’s gate,
    To bind the souls to a woeful and inexorable fate,
    While the night devoured hope, sealing every dreadful fate.

    The atmosphere was gloomy and tainted by whispers of despair,
    As spirits writhed in torment’s snare,
    Their cries were like distant thunder in the dimmed air.
    The cauldron’s brew did bubble and hiss,
    Unleashing doom with a ghostly kiss.

    In midnight’s chill, the spirits wept,
    For those ensnared in shadows kept,
    Their agony echoed through the hollow crypt,
    The ancient curse, a binding vow,
    Wrought in sorrow, sealed somehow.

    From crypts below, the dark arts arose,
    Enchanting mourners’ despondent like dead roses,
    And spreading dread like frost’s cruel fingers on a winter’s night.
    The moon looked on, a spectral glare,
    As death’s cold fingers filled the air.

    Once summoning words did invoke despair,
    A cauldron boiled in the witches’ lair.
    They chanted doom with a hollow tone,
    Their voices echoed like graveyard stone.

    The candles flickered, life faded pale,
    As shadows writhed and spirits wailed,
    While the flames danced wildly to the cursed wind’s breath.
    Through dust and ash, a chill descended,
    The curse persisted; it never ended.

    Bones rattled in the dampened earth,
    Their souls were condemned, with no hope for rebirth.
    A heart that pounded was not supposed to beat anymore,
    Entombed within death’s dreadful lore.

    Beneath the obscure veil of night’s caress,
    The darkness deepened, and horrors did press.
    The spell of death was cast; none could have been saved,
    For death has come, and silence craved.

    In this realm of delightful derealisation,
    Nightmares came true as real visions,
    Of ghosts and demons that danced with glee,
    Amid stormy winds of dark eternity.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Silent Doom

    The Silent Doom

    The silent doom unfolded beneath a sky as black as coal,
    The earth was but a hollow bowl,
    Where silence fell like frozen rain,
    And darkness gripped with quiet pain.

    No wind disturbed the still, dead air,
    No voices called from anywhere,
    The world was hushed like a muted tomb,
    Having embraced within the silent doom.

    The trees stood tall, their branches bare,
    Like bony fingers in despair,
    Their leaves long lost to time’s cruel hand,
    Now dust upon the ashen land.

    A river once did flow and gleam,
    But now it was just a haunted stream,
    A twisted path of ghostly grey,
    Where echoes drifted and faded away.

    The stars above were cold and dim,
    Their light was consumed by shadows’ grim,
    As if the night itself did swoon,
    Beneath the weight of a silent doom.

    A tower arose against the void,
    Its stones, by ages long destroyed,
    However, still, it loomed, a lonely spire,
    A relic of some bygone fire.

    No footsteps sound upon its stairs,
    No whispered invocations filled the air,
    The halls were lost in endless gloom,
    The echoes stilled by the silent doom.

    The ground was scarred with ancient strife,
    The remnants of a stolen life,
    A battlefield where none remained,
    But spectres bound in endless pain bloodstained.

    The moon, though full, shed not a glow,
    It hovered like a ghostly woe,
    A faded orb that could not bloom,
    Held captive by the silent doom.

    The sky became dim, the air too dense to breathe,
    A fog that did not drift or seethe,
    But hanged like sorrow in the night,
    And choked the world of hope and light.

    No dawn ever broke, no day ever rose,
    No sun ever burned in empty skies,
    For in this realm, the world had met its end,
    And silence was its only friend.

    Yet somewhere deep, a heart still beat,
    A pulse beneath the fractured streets,
    A rhythm faint, a distant boom,
    Resisting still the silent doom.

    But time moved slowly, and life decayed,
    The shadows lengthened in their stays,
    And soon all breath ceased to loom,
    Devoured by the silent doom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful dreams in darkness brewed,
    The world outside in silence stewed.
    A chill hung thick as whispers weaved,
    Through hollow halls, where none believed.

    A castle loomed, its walls decayed,
    Where time had stopped and light delayed.
    Through labyrinths that none had known,
    They wandered there, each one alone.

    Figures rose from meadows like thorns,
    With eyes that bled and voices steeped,
    In sorrows long since left unsaid,
    Now, pulling dreamers to the dead.

    Dreadful dreams, where shadows crept,
    Beneath their lids, no restful sleep.
    The night grew cold, the visions swayed,
    In twisted forms, the mind was betrayed.

    No way to flee, no path to run,
    For night devoured every sun.
    The walls grew impenetrable, the air was poison,
    And trapped everyone in an endless prison.

    In the silence, whispers of fright,
    Haunted souls wander, lost from sight.
    Each gust a toil, each step a plight,
    As darkness consumed every fading light.

    Dreadful dreams, where mirrors cracked,
    And whispers from the void slammed.
    A thousand clouds lost in space,
    All seeking what they couldn’t chase.

    Souls entwined with endless fear,
    Never to wake, forever near.
    The moon, once full, was now cracked and pale,
    Its silver light began to fail.

    And as the fading shades crept,
    The dreamers into silence wept.
    The night consumed all hopes and screams,
    And left them bound to dreadful dreams.

    Dreadful dreams wandered like shades of night,
    Whispered softly beneath dark skies.
    Each dwelling became a fearsome sight,
    As shadows moved in the dimming light.

    Desires entwined with seizing dread,
    Wandering everywhere, but hope had fled.
    Each secret carried tales of woe,
    As spectres flickered, fast and slow.

    In the gloom, no spark remained,
    No bright memory could have been preserved.
    The dreamers sought the light once more,
    But shadows beckoned from the shore.

    Dreadful dreams chased every fleeting glow,
    Finding themselves in depths below.
    With every instant, the darkness grew,
    A truth obscured, a world askew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2019-2026. All rights reserved.