Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: dread

  • The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The Realm Of Crimson Roses

    The realm of crimson roses was my treasure
    The secret haven of my desires for extravagant dreams
    The sweet and bewitching scent of the crimson roses drugged me
    It was like I drank the poison of oblivion for the very first time
    And I forgot my essence, bleeding my heart out

    I had visions and hallucinations like I was in an eternal sleep
    I saw beauty and magnificence in every corner of the castle of dreams
    Crying and smiling, I’ve finally found infinite delight in my abyss of anguish
    No pang could frighten me anymore because I was free
    Like a bird flying so high, it could touch the sky

    I belonged to the realm of crimson roses, and my heart was bound to it
    Through invisible chains made of love and death
    No slumber was necessary anymore because I was in a perpetual state of stupor
    Enchanted by a wicked spell cast over me, I could no longer abandon my state of captivity
    I was languidly mesmerised

    I surrendered to a throne of nightmares and dread
    It was made of crimson roses and adorned with long and sharp thorns
    So pointed were their punches pierced my heart
    Making me bleed until I became an ethereal creature of the night
    The pain freed me from fears and insecurities
    And I had not anymore a material body
    After all, I never lived in reality because I was born in the realm of nightmares and madness

    I knew not whether I dreamt or waked
    So dazed was my mind, I could not divine between vision and verity
    The realm of crimson roses could have been a spectre of my imagination
    Enchanting me like a nocturnal lullaby
    It suited my senses and hypnotised my heart
    A fleeting Utopia, born to wither with the dawn.
    Elisabetta

  • The Enchantment

    The Enchantment

    The enchantment, a shadowed spell, had been cast beneath the twilight’s dying sigh,
    Where ancient oaks had swayed in the wind like phantoms of the past.
    A chant had echoed through the tangled woods, its cadence dark and deep,
    Awakening spirits have long forgotten from the caverns where they had slept.

    Amidst the stillness of nightfall, murmurs sighed endlessly,
    As unseen eyes had glowed dimly beneath a starless sky.
    The moon had hung low, a sallow face, pale as winter’s bone,
    Illuminating paths of sorrow where the lost souls had roamed alone.

    A mist had coiled through the midnight, cold fingers tracing near,
    Wrapping around the weary hearts that had beat with ascending fear.
    The trees, like crooked figures, had leaned closer to behold,
    The place where time had dissolved away, and every tale was told.

    At the circle’s heart, an altar had stood, adorned in faded lace,
    And there, a book of fateful words had lain bound in death’s embrace.
    With trembling restlessness, the pages had turned, each verse a dreadful sound,
    As secrets had slipped into the void and spun themselves around.

    The ground had begun to shake as shadows took their form,
    Emerging from the depths below, a writhing, ghastly swarm.
    Their voices had spoken in unison, a harmony of dread,
    Recalling all the lives once lived and all the blood once shed.

    Enchantments had surged through every vein, a venom cold and dark,
    Binding all who had ventured there with no hope of turning back.
    The winds had grown sharp, a biting chill that had pierced the very night,
    And overhead, the idylls had burned with a pale, infernal light.

    The spirits had danced in circles wide; their laughter had echoed grimly,
    A dirge that sang of vanished days and all that might have been.
    The ancient oaks had groaned softly as if burdened by despair,
    Their roots, entwined with cursed soil, had held fast in the bewitched air.

    The enchantment had deepened, drawing close, its tendrils ever tight,
    Until the world had grown distant, fading slowly from all sight.
    In the dark, the voices had faded, the spell complete at last,
    And silence had reigned where shadows had fallen upon the haunted past.

    Thus had lain the woods, forever bound by the magic’s cruel decree,
    A place where none could have ventured forth nor ever truly fled.
    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

  • A Doomed Fate

    A Doomed Fate

    A doomed fate had long been sealed,
    A cruel truth that time revealed.
    Each step they took, each choice they made,
    Led them deeper into the shade.

    The stars above, so cold, so bright,
    Watched as they surrendered to the night.
    In every breath, in every sigh,
    They knew that soon they’d have to die.

    The night had deepened, thick with dread,
    A silent pull towards the dead.
    No whispers now, no gentle breeze,
    Only shadows through the trees.

    A doomed fate had followed close,
    Like shadows that refused to go.
    They wandered through the years in vain,
    Bound by chains, they could not break.

    They ran but found no place to hide,
    For doom followed them, ever at their side.
    The hour struck, the time was here,
    And with it came a wave of fear.

    They faced their fate with weary eyes,
    Knowing well, no one survives.
    A breath, a step, a final cry,
    As they laid down their will to die.

    A doomed fate had gripped their soul,
    No freedom left to make them whole.
    No matter how they fought or fled,
    The path led closer to the dead.

    The end was hasty; the night grew cold,
    The weight of fate was so tight, so bold.
    And when at last the dawn did break,
    It found a soul the night did take.

    And in the quiet, still and grey,
    A doomed fate carried them away.
    In the silence, fragments of despair
    Spoke of dreams that hung in the air.

    A doomed fate had been fulfilled,
    No fight remained, no heart to build.
    Their life, now lost, became a tale,
    Of shadows abyssal and winds that wail.

    Each moment stretched, a fragile thread,
    Binding them to the path of dread.
    And when the shadows whispered low,
    They understood what they must forego.

    For fate, once chosen, could not bend,
    A journey with no chance to mend.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Realm of Nightmares

    The Realm of Nightmares

    The realm of nightmares, beneath the cold and silver grin of the stars,
    Treading through passages of dread,
    Where shadows writhe, and walls grow thin,
    As whispers crawl from ear to head.

    The clock unmakes each moment’s tread,
    Time drips to dust and fades away,
    The voices of the ancient dead,
    Their chilling grins lead unfortunates astray.

    A sky of crimson, decadent with ash,
    Hangs heavy over this broken realm,
    The earth beneath begins to thrash,
    As claws reach up through cursed sand.

    Wandering through the realm of nightmares,
    Locked away in endless nights,
    Where every step, each haunted lair,
    Steeped in sorrow, drenched in fright.

    No solace here, no peace of mind,
    In this dark realm, the soul’s alone,
    Where horrors bloom grotesque, unkind,
    And terror sinks deep to the bone.

    A scream escapes, but silence reigns,
    A ghostly sound that’s never heard,
    While stars above ignite with flames,
    And burn away the final remark.

    With every moment, the walls collapse,
    The floor beneath bends and snaps,
    The realm of nightmares, vast and infinite,
    No start, no end—just shattered maps.

    The trees are twisted, black and bare,
    Their limbs reach out with claws of spite,
    From their breath, bitter winds ensnare,
    Extinguishing the newborn light.

    No dawn will come to end this storm,
    No morning’s grace to chase the gloom,
    For in the realm of nightmares, no light takes form,
    And shadows haunt each quiet room.

    Eyes burn like coals in masks grim,
    Their gaze, the deepest, darkest dread,
    And though they wear a thousand shrouds,
    Not one of them was indeed dead.

    They form from phantoms, born of fear,
    Each nightmare weaves from horror’s thread,
    Their breath, the wind; their voice sings clear,
    Of sleepless nights and waking dread.

    The ground below turns into clay,
    It pulls all down into its strand,
    Where darkness swallows the light of day,
    And reason cracks like brittle sand.

    Falling, falling—there is no end,
    No waking from this cursed blight,
    For in the realm of nightmares, the rules will bend,
    And all are trapped in endless nights.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Sunless Path

    The Sunless Path

    The Sunless Path
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The sunless path stretched endlessly before her, winding through a barren landscape where no light dared to linger. The sun had long since abandoned the world, leaving behind only a thick, oppressive darkness that seemed to swallow everything in its wake. She had walked for what felt like an eternity, her footsteps echoing hollowly against the earth. Still, no matter how far she went, the scenery never changed. There were no landmarks, no signs of life—only the path and the void that surrounded it.

    She could not remember when she had begun this journey along the sunless path, nor why. The memories of her past had faded into the shadows, blurred and distant as if they belonged to another world entirely. All that remained was the compulsion to keep moving forward, though she knew not where the path would lead. Each step felt heavier than the last, her legs trembling with the weight of an unseen burden. But to stop was unthinkable. The thought of standing still, of allowing the darkness to close in around her, filled her with a nameless dread.

    The scent of damp earth and decay surrounded her as though the world itself was disintegrating beneath her steps. She breathed it in with each ragged gasp, and it settled like a stone in her lungs. The silence was absolute, broken only by the sound of her contrived breathing and the soft, relentless thud of her treads. There were no birds, no insects, no wind to stir the dead leaves that littered the ground. It was as though the world had been drained of all life, leaving her the only living soul in a place where life no longer belonged.

    She had tried to turn back once, but the sunless path had twisted beneath her, warping into something unrecognisable. Her sense of direction had vanished, and the more she tried to retrace her steps, the further she seemed to stray from any semblance of escape. The path was a labyrinth with no end, a cruel trick played by forces she could not comprehend.

    Despair gnawed at the edges of her mind, whispering to her that there was no destination, no salvation waiting at the end of the journey. She was trapped in an endless cycle, a prisoner of the sunless path and the darkness that clung to it. And so, she continued to walk, forever lost in the sunless void.

  • 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.

  • 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

  • Fright and Horror

    Fright and Horror

    Fright and horror ruled the night,
    Within that house of crumbling stone,
    Where shadows swirled with dread and fright,
    And chilling whispers, all alone.

    The hearth, once warm, now cold and still,
    Had seen the darkened spirits roam,
    Their blast a chill, their presence ill,
    Made mortal hearts a haunted home.

    In faded tapestries of old,
    Where spectral eyes gazed from their frame,
    Fright and horror did unfold,
    Their stare was a harbinger of shame.

    Through moonlit panes and misty gloom,
    A figure roamed with spectral grace,
    Its eyes aglow, a foreboding doom,
    Its silent steps a grim embrace.

    Fright and horror held their sway,
    As echoes moaned through hollow halls,
    Where time and dread had lost their way,
    And shadows clung to ancient walls.

    In every scrape, in every groan,
    A tale of fear was sharply drawn,
    Where once was light, now dark is sown,
    And glimmer’s truth is nearly gone.

    A portrait hung of mournful hue,
    Its subject lost, a fate unknown,
    Fright and horror to the few
    Who dared to tread where spirits sobbed.

    The house, now left in deep darkness,
    Tales of its terror plagued,
    Panic and anguish in restless sleep,
    Tormented the realm where darkness ruled.

    Fright and horror wove their spell,
    In labyrinths of endless gloom,
    Where every corner hid a legend
    Of sorrow sealed within each chamber.

    No light could pierce the shrouded veil,
    No sound could chase the spectral dread,
    Since in its chasms, the horror has passed
    Bounding every soul that dared be led.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • An Ephemeral Life

    An Ephemeral Life

    An ephemeral life had endured the shadows of dread,
    In a garden where roses had once bloomed bright and red.
    Petals, once vivid in sunlight’s warm caress,
    Had withered and crumbled in spectral distress.

    The sun, harsh and unforgiving, had scorched each bloom,
    Turning vibrant splendour into a sombre tomb.
    Moonlight, pale and ghostly, draped the garden’s decay,
    Casting an eerie pallor where the flowers had lain.

    The breeze, once gentle, had grown sharp and cold,
    Whispered secrets of a beauty that death had told.
    In the stillness of twilight, where shadows had crept long,
    The garden lay haunted by a mournful song.

    An ephemeral life of once vibrant blooms, now ghostly and frail,
    Had bowed to the earth, and their colour had grown stale.
    Each flower, a relic of a fleeting moment,
    Had succumbed to darkness and the deafening silence.

    The fountain, now stagnant, held the murky remains
    Of water once clear, now a grave for the chains.
    Its ethereal music had turned into a low groan,
    A dirge for the blossoms that the grave had known.

    The moon’s cold light revealed a macabre scene,
    Where beauty had faded, leaving only the obscene.
    The garden, once alive with intense happiness,
    Had become a crypt in the embrace of night.

    An ephemeral life, in the stillness that lingered, where shadows sank into the abyss,
    The essence of life had yielded to dismiss.
    An evanescent existence, now lost to decay,
    Wandered through the garden where time had slipped away.

    The sculptures, once regal, had frozen in their dismay and despair,
    Silent custodians cloaked in the chill of the air.
    Their features, carved in stone, tattered an expression of anguish,
    Glimpses of the fading archaic dreams and praises.

    An archaic ivy, creeping with tendrils so dark,
    Had embraced the remains of a once glittering spark.
    In the garden’s hushed sighs, the past had seemed to cry,
    As the fleeting delight had faded beneath the sky.
    An ephemeral life of what could no longer be redeemed from the doom of death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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