Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: eternal slumber

  • Haunting Dreams

    Haunting Dreams

    Haunting dreams devoured my mind during my tormented nights
    When the wind didn’t pass through my hair
    And the only sound I could hear was the whisper of the black roses entwined with my hair
    My gaze was staring at the moonless night sky
    Hoping for some star to appear before me
    But I was alone while wandering in the dark forest of my nightmares
    Where no creature or spirit emerged in the thick mist of darkness

    As soon as the moon arose from behind dark clouds
    Its pale glimmer stroked my face like petals of roses
    I felt the shadows surround me while dancing like phantoms
    They touched my gown with their icy claws
    The tragedy of my existence manifested into a dark fantasy
    Decadence became my castle of gloomy phantasmagoria
    Desolation became my alcove where I felt dearly cherished

    I fell in love with my hallucinations
    Trembling with lust and desire despite their gloomy embrace
    Every trace of wisdom had parted from me
    I had drunk from the goblet of insanity and amnesia
    I was finally a creature of the realm of haunting dreams
    Protected in my eternal slumber, I felt secure
    The infinity belonged to me and I was destined to never perish

    Whimsical was my mood and mutable like the wind in the springtime
    Fear didn’t belong to me anymore because I was a part of this macabre kingdom of chimaeras
    Not even my name dared to echo in that sacred silence
    I now dwelled as a requiem in the ravine of eternity
    I was cradled by gloominess and crowned by illusion
    I was no longer alive in my haunting dreams
    A bloom in oblivion and a ghost in the grave of forgotten stars
    Eclipsed by my own dark fantasies, I vanished into the hymn of endless dusk.
    Elisabetta

  • The Ocean of Gloominess

    The Ocean of Gloominess

    The ocean of gloominess stretched before me and beyond any imagination, displaying all its magnificence and supremacy.

    Fears and insecurities became ominous shadows that grew bigger, like intense storms dragging me deep into the abyss of oblivion.

    Freezing was the wind that embraced me with its long, spiky arms like a sweet and sour betrayal that ripped my heart.

    I would embrace non-existence rather than existence as a valley of distress and pain where I don’t find any place of joy and peace.

    Not relying on trust anymore, searching desperately for the truth buried underneath, I laid down on the cold soil, waiting for my eternal slumber to drag me away.

    Teardrops covered my face, freezing under the shapes of crystals and gems, now that nothing would have remained.

    And so, I became a part of that frozen realm where all the trees and flowers were made of insensitive frost.

    Not feeling anything anymore was my source of delight and amusement. I strived to forget all the memories as if I really never existed.

    The ocean of gloominess enticed me with its mystery and illusions, its sovereignty and cruelty.

    The nothingness lured me over and over again till I fell into the snare of the void where I coveted to finish like an ethereal dream of mine.

    Hence, I fainted again in a deadly slumber, a permanent one from which I couldn’t wake anymore, becoming just a frail, glimmering snowflake.

    Fleeting moments became remembrances to be obliterated like sand devoured by the wind. And dread overcame every little sparkle of mirth, leaving me adrift in the eternity of despair.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • 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.

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