Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: doom

  • 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

  • On The Verge Of Doom

    On The Verge Of Doom

    On the verge of doom, where shadows cling,
    Beneath the endless skies of decay, no light to show.
    A land of sighs and tears breathes its last, steeped in dread,
    As night consumes, the sun leaves all hopes dead.

    The scent of oppression pervades with shadows of despair,
    Each dream becomes an illusion as the world lies broken.
    The trees stand twisted, their branches bare,
    Grasping at the stars as if seeking solace unspoken.

    On the verge of doom, the silence reigns,
    A haunting emptiness of forgotten pains.
    The moon hangs dim, a spectre in the night,
    Casting ghostly glimmers, a wicked light.

    Raindrops fade softly along the cobbled lane,
    Where memories linger, steeped in anguish and pain.
    The castle looms, its towers cracked and worn,
    A sentinel of sorrow, where dreams are torn.

    On the verge of doom, in chambers adorned,
    With dust and despair, wraiths of phantoms curl.
    They beckon with tales of those lost to time,
    Of loves that withered, of life’s cruel rhyme.

    Hope strives to cling tenaciously to the edge of the night,
    A flicker, a spark, in the grip of the fright.
    But darkness devours, as it always has done and always will,
    And on the verge of doom, all battles are worthless.

    On the verge of doom, the silence hangs heavy,
    Darkness creeps upon all realms, its grip tightening fast.
    Desire turns to ashes, consumed by the keeper,
    In this hollow silence, all dreams are betrayed.

    In the echoes of silence, in the depth of the gloom,
    Lies the haunting refrain of impending doom.
    Among the shadows where the weary hearts dwell,
    Forever entwined in the web of the invisible.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Last Midnight

    The Last Midnight

    The last midnight had drawn near,
    Its shadow was cold and sharp with fear.
    The wind, once howling, had stilled to nought,
    As darkness claimed the light, it sought.

    The last midnight hung heavy in the air,
    A curse, a promise, a final snare.
    No stars had pierced the sky that night,
    Only endless blackness in its fading light.

    They had waited in the decaying halls,
    Where silence seeped through fractured walls.
    The last midnight loomed with fate’s cold hand,
    A doom too close to understand.

    Eyes had watched the hands tick slowly,
    As if time itself feared the blow.
    For the last midnight was nearly here,
    Bringing with it dread and fear.

    The air had thickened, dense and still,
    As shadows danced with a cruel will.
    The moments passed like final breaths,
    Each one was steeped in the scent of death.

    The last midnight struck its hollow tone,
    And from the void, no mercy was shown.
    A bell that tolled from the depths of night,
    Had sealed the fate with its final bite.

    The heart had ceased, the soul withdrew,
    As darkness deepened and shadows grew.
    No solace came, no saving hand,
    For the days had met their cursed end.

    The last midnight had claimed its due,
    The curse fulfilled, the terror true.
    The wind outside resumed its cry,
    As the soul left with a whispered sigh.

    The mansion had stood in endless gloom,
    Each corner was steeped in haunted doom.
    The last midnight lingered on the walls,
    Echoing still through empty halls.

    And when the final hour passed,
    It left behind a vast silence.
    No dawn would rise, no morning bright,
    Only the void of endless night.

    The last midnight was all that stayed,
    A memory lost in darkness’ shade.
    No living soul to mourn, to weep,
    For all had drifted into sleep.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss of Doom

    The Abyss of Doom

    The abyss of doom hunts me,
    Paving the way for my decay.
    Glorious illusions are not my guardians anymore,
    Hence, the darkness encloses me in a labyrinth of despair.

    The abyss of doom sees me wherever I roam,
    Wandering through a wild garden of wickedness,
    Surrounded by evil ghouls with burning eyes,
    Lonely and injured, striving for survival.

    I stumble through this forsaken realm,
    Where hope is a fleeting ghost,
    Fading into shadows with every step.
    The wind howls like a cursed whisper,
    Carrying with it the echoes of forgotten souls,
    Who once danced in the light,
    Now imprisoned in the eternal night.

    There is no mercy here, no salvation,
    Only the weight of my own dread.
    The ghouls laugh with hollow voices,
    Their eyes are aflame with the fire of my fear,
    And nevertheless, I press on through the thorns,
    Each step tears away the remnants of my strength.

    The abyss of doom knows my every thought,
    It feels my terror, my sorrow, my longing,
    For an escape that will never come.
    The sky above is blackened, choked with clouds,
    The ground below cracks under the weight of my despair.

    How long can I endure this torment?
    How far can one go when surrounded by spectres?
    The answers elude me, just as freedom does.
    I am lost in a maze where the walls close in,
    And every path leads deeper into oblivion.

    The flowers in this cursed garden are withered,
    Their petals fall like shattered dreams,
    Rotting under the harsh gaze of death.
    I cannot escape this realm of endless grief,
    Where each breath I take only brings me closer,
    To the abyss of doom that waits to claim me whole.

    And so I wander still, forever trapped,
    A soul adrift in the abyss of doom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Mirror of Despair

    The Mirror of Despair

    The mirror of despair stood like a monolith,
    A monolith, unmoved, defiant.
    Before that cursed glass, shadows loomed,
    And light would pass, leaving darkness consumed.

    Once it held the grace of life,
    Now, only hollow faces survived.
    The air grew poisonous, a burden to bear,
    A chill that whispered, don’t you dare.

    Cold breath hung in the air, a fleeting mist,
    A ghostly trace that once existed.
    The surface touched, cold as stone,
    Yet deeper still, a soul felt alone.

    The mirror of despair exhaled a sorrow so vast,
    Trapping a soul within the past.
    A scream clawed up, lodged in the throat,
    But all that came was silence’ coat.

    A voice was lost, like fading light,
    Consumed by dread, engulfed by night.
    The reflection showed not just a face,
    But every fear that none would trace.

    Youth decayed, bones turned brittle,
    Skin faded grey, and life became little.
    Colours drained from joy and life,
    Each moment was replaced by endless strife.

    The mirror of despair pulled deeper still,
    Into a world that froze all will.
    A heart, once whole, now torn apart,
    Reflected back in shards of dark.

    Each fragment whispered death’s embrace,
    No warmth, no light, no saving grace.
    Graves appeared, their earth undone,
    And in those pits lay the one.

    A figure frail, devoid of breath,
    Caught in the arms of endless death.
    Turning away was not allowed,
    Something held firm, no escape endowed.

    The pull of doom, a heavy chain,
    Bound this soul to eternal pain.
    The mirror’s depths revealed no end,
    Only endless dread, no hope to mend.

    Shadows closed in, all around,
    A suffocating, endless bond.
    The weight of death felt so near,
    Its breath was so cold, its touch so clear.

    It whispered low, in the ear so slow,
    That all was lost; no light could show.
    Cracks spread wide across the glass,
    Like spiders’ webs that grew en masse.

    Each line it split tore at the soul,
    A mirror now of death’s control.
    And there stood a figure, consumed by dread,
    A living soul among the dead.

    The mirror of despair held a final sigh,
    A grim reflection left to die.
    The hours blurred, the days bled dry,
    Lingering there, without knowing why.

    No future lay beyond the glass,
    Just shadows of a life that passed.
    Each breath became a hollow sound,
    A heart that barely dared to pound.

    Lingering there, devoid of air,
    In endless, hopeless, cold despair.
    No warmth could reach this haunted place,
    No hope could heal what’s been erased.

    A ghost within the glass remained,
    And death, it seemed, forever chained.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.