Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: forgotten memories

  • The Sun Of Dismay

    The Sun Of Dismay

    The Sun of dismay irradiated its glowing rays of light all over me, as if I were not aware enough of my cruel fate. I wish I could have escaped from that hostile destiny, but I was bound to it by an eternal oath.

    My sighs and tears could not arrest that tragic scenario poised to, all of a sudden, dismiss the totality of my most cherished dreams. Not even the nighttime legends and fairy tales could divert my attention.

    The nocturnal echoes of the barn owls and nightjars interrupted my silent contemplation, every time I stared at the moon from my balcony adorned with ancient finds and magical manuscripts.

    Beyond the horizon, I was not able to catch sight of anything else but my dreadful fears that filled my heart with a bitter anguish. And suddenly a freezing wind rose, freezing all the mirrors of my antique mansion.

    The Sun of dismay didn’t appear anymore since the day I had decided to fall in love with my regrets and solitude. Nevertheless, far away, cast away from my memories, an obsolete shadow kept haunting the peaceful realm of my thoughts.

    No candle dared to illuminate the darkness that dwelled in my realm of nightmares and oddities. My reflection in broken mirrors made me perceive that I was an evanescent hologram of my own imagination.

    Was all that real or just a dream? A rocambolesque confusion suddenly struck me like a purely casual event. Surreal was everything I ever dreamed of and mostly the suspense of my bizarre fate.

    My invisibility was my strength and the loneliness swarming around me tempted me to surrender to every hesitation of mine, even when the Sun of dismay persisted in materialising like an unexpected ghost.

    All my wishes vanished and they were replaced by restlessness in the shape of ghouls wandering in the endless labyrinth of my chance, where destiny and randomness became indistinguishable.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Magic Sunsets

    Magic Sunsets

    Magic sunsets manifested in the abyss of torpor and oblivion
    While the ocean breeze stroked my hair in the unconsciousness of my slumber
    Although I had relinquished the kingdom of shallowness and impermanence
    I never settled for an adventure bound to rational manuscripts and shoddy fantasy

    I always dreamed of magic sunsets and enchanted castles
    Mostly when the ancient clock of my secret mansion ticked each second of my life
    It pressured me to advance and grab as much knowledge as I could
    But each time I drank from the goblet of wisdom
    Every memory would vanish away like tiny sand grains in the wind

    In vain I cried, and as desperate as I was, I evoked the spirits of that magical realm of sugary illusions and flaming roses
    The magnificent sunlight greeted me each day without ceremonies
    But only making my roses bloom like shimmering gems in every shade of orange and red

    Beneath sparkling magic sunsets, each lantern glimmered to chaperone me to the precious and beloved castle that was in front of me exactly as I had imagined it
    The aura was full of exquisite flower scents whose petals were falling all over me like confetti raindrops
    Orange quartz, citrine and carnelian adorned my hair under the shape of a fabulous crown, and tangerine flowers adorned my dress

    I could intentionally realise that I was no longer dreaming, being part of a marvellous world where dreams always came true, and happiness was spilling all over the realm
    The enchantment of that fairy tale was so intense that I hadn’t even realised I was completely alone, save for the legendary creatures
    No doubt or fear could touch me now that I was the sovereign of my world of wonders and oddities

    Without ever tearing my gaze away from the beauty of those magical sunsets that had transported me into my world of imprudence and frenzy, I finally embraced my bizarre and mysterious fate with its myriad of surprises and eternal marvel.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • An Enigma In the Twilight

    An Enigma In the Twilight

    An enigma in the twilight was before me,
    In a decaying and decadent dwelling
    where I fell into a deep slumber.

    The silence after the storm.
    That was all I could hear as I stared at the ceiling, decorated and inlaid with grotesque figures, cobwebs, and peeling paint.
    I was reflecting on my life and my dreams.
    It felt as though I was already inside one of my dreams, yet I could not be certain whether I was conscious or not.
    The pendulum clock could no longer offer that familiar chime that once marked the hours — and with them, time itself.
    The deafening silence had filled the entire mansion, whose walls were adorned with portraits that stared at me as if they wished to reveal secrets — or perhaps their memories.

    Was the enigma in the twilight merely a product of my imagination,
    Or could it be that this ancient and dilapidated place
    held enigmas my heart perceived as a potential object of interest —
    a heart now emptied of all the feelings it had carried through a lifetime,
    senselessly and heavily, like a tremendous burden?

    The only clock that marked the hour was an old timepiece,
    And it seemed to have stopped at exactly 22:22.
    The strange air of the mansion allowed the night to seep in
    With a peculiar glow that filtered through the curtains — thick, but not too thick.
    It was a house rich in memories and forgetfulness,
    in joys and grudges, in violence and death,
    in life and love, in ugliness and beauty,
    In magnificence and horror.

    Absorbed in my thoughts and lost in my memories,
    I fell into a state of deep melancholy and sadness,
    as if an abyss had swallowed me whole
    and forced me to live a life in a non-existent world
    of sorrow and ghostly recollections.
    Elisabetta

  • Beneath The Ocean Vault

    Beneath The Ocean Vault

    Beneath the ocean vault, there was a secret place
    where the hidden truths and the most recondite secrets had been buried.
    Among ruins covered by coral and algae
    and a rather unsettling expanse of swirling water.
    It was there that the crypt under the ocean lay,
    as if the sea had been its roof and also its home.
    Mine was a simple vision,
    it may be that I was dreaming,
    it may be that I was having these hallucinations.
    I only know that it was not the fruit of a conscious and calculated imagination.
    It seemed that I had abandoned myself
    to the sound of the stormy waves on an autumn evening.
    When the faint light of the sky merged with the water of the ocean
    until merged as one unity.

    I closed my eyes and I abandoned myself to my imaginative madness,
    And I saw with even more clarity that marvellous and fantastical landscape
    which did not belong to me,
    But which in some way symbolised something of my past or of my future,
    because I, in the end, lived in the past and the future.
    My present was in oblivion.

    Beneath the ocean vault, my dreams had ceased to whisper visions and desires. In their place remained nightmares that drew their fantasies from bitter disappointments and atrocious memories. And it was in this labyrinth of water and darkness that I found myself entwined, clutched as if unbound by invisible chains.

    I found myself in an oceanic crypt where the sea creatures had turned into ghosts, hunting me like prey and a victim of their tortures and torments. My invocation to the cruel fate of a possible change, where I might have grasped a flower of hope, was to no avail. In the endless and vast infinite.
    Elisabetta

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