Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: ghostly

  • Blank Silence

    Blank Silence

    Blank silence filled the solitary mansion as if the very air had been stilled by unseen hands. The echoes of sighs, once alive and vibrant voices, were now long dead, leaving only an oppressive quiet that seeped into the walls. The moon outside cast a frost and pale glow through the decayed windows, but even its light seemed muted, as though it dared not bother the stillness.

    Blank silence ruled the ancient residence, its weight pressing down on every surface. There had been a time when happiness and dreams resounded there when the sound of life loaded the halls. Now, only shadows remained, creeping and crawling over the furniture, whispering secrets that no one could ever hear. The rhythmic sway of a pendulum clock once measured time, but even that had ceased. Time itself had frozen, trapped in the grip of this hollow stillness.

    Blank silence settled deep into those who wandered through the mansion, searching for something that could no longer be remembered. The wind stroked the faded wallpaper; dead leaves ran over dusty books and cracked mirrors. But nothing looked back. There were no reflections here, no memories to cling to—only the vast emptiness stretching on and on. Invisible steps were soundless, and a ghostly breath barely could become a whisper in the choking air.

    Blank silence consumed everything, swallowing the house and all within it. The portraits on the walls stared out with blank, lifeless eyes, and the furniture seemed to sag under the weight of years. No one could tell how long they had been wandering, how many nights they had spent drifting through these halls. Time had lost all meaning here. The silence was eternal, an endless void that had stripped away all sense of reality. There was no sound, no voice, no cry. Only the hollow echo of nothingness stretched out before those who dared to wander, promising no escape.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Infinite Darkness

    The Infinite Darkness

    The infinite darkness crept over the world,
    A veil so impenetrable, no light unfurled,
    In shadows profound, where silence reigned,
    Only specs of sorrow faintly remained.
    The moon, once bright, was now cast in gloom,
    Surrendering its glow to the infinite tomb.

    Beneath the heavens, void and stark,
    A restless whisper clung to the dark,
    Forgotten dreams were laid to waste,
    Swallowed whole with ungodly haste.
    The infinite darkness, cold and still,
    Devoured the soul, crushed the will.

    No star remained in the desolate sky,
    Only the wind’s morbid sigh,
    Through crumbled towers and withered trees,
    A graveyard of lost, forlorn pleas.
    The infinite darkness shrouded all,
    A bleak abyss without recall.

    The hour was late, the world grew numb,
    To the mournful beat of a ghostly drum.
    Voices long buried rose once more,
    Whispers of anguish at death’s door.
    The infinite darkness spread its reign,
    Boundless, eternal, all in vain.

    It claimed the hearts of those who wept,
    It haunted the dreams of those who slept.
    In every crevice, every space,
    It loomed like a spectre, leaving no trace
    Of the world that was, the days of light,
    All faded now in endless night.

    The infinite darkness fed on despair,
    Its breath a chill, an empty stare,
    It pulled the living toward the grave,
    For none, not one, could hope to be saved.
    In its embrace, no warmth remained,
    Only the chill of shadows, unrestrained.

    In the distance, a bell did toll,
    A knell for every lost soul.
    The infinite darkness had won its war,
    Leaving behind an open scar
    Upon the earth, upon the sky,
    A place where even death could die.

    The infinite darkness closed its grip,
    Tight as a chain, cold as a crypt.
    And in that void, so vast, so stark,
    Nothing was left but an endless dark.
    The infinite darkness, now complete,
    Bore the silence of final defeat.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Unopened Pages

    Unopened Pages

    Beyond the cover, realms await, unseen,
    In every book, a path to what has been.
    However, here prejudice stands, with its labels in the hands,
    Dismissing truths, it barely understands.

    The minds that bind themselves with endless chains,
    Are deaf to stories’ wisdom and knowledge gained.
    They close the book before it’s fully read,
    Content with titles, names, and what’s been said.

    But truth defies the cages they create,
    It bends beyond the lines that separate.
    For every story written holds a key,
    To unlock hearts and set the spirit free.

    To judge an essence by labels is to miss
    The depth of life, the beauty in the abyss.
    The page that holds the answers lies untorn,
    Nevertheless, senses stay closed, and ignorance is born.

    Beneath the ink, shadows twist and creep,
    Murmurs from forgotten worlds sleep.
    The words, like phantoms, haunt each line,
    Begging to be freed from the threads of time.

    More than the surface, deeper should they dive,
    For in those words, the most trustworthy self survives.
    The books unopened hold a thousand skies,
    And in their pages, prejudice defies.

    The label shouldn’t blind crowds from the tale,
    For in the written word, all hearts prevail.
    To open books is more than just a task,
    It frees the soul from every mask.

    And as the pages crackle in the night,
    A ghostly hand beckons toward the light.
    No thought confined, no mortal boxed away,
    For every story lives beyond the fray.
    The truth of existence cannot be simply named,
    It’s written comprehensively, with words that can’t be tamed.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Distant Light

    The Distant Light

    The Distant Light
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    The distant light danced on the edge of sight,
    Just beyond reach, just out of grasp.
    Steps grew weary in the endless night,
    Hope a fragile, fleeting clasp.

    It wavered like a ghostly flame,
    Teasing those who sought its glow,
    Led them through a darkened frame—
    A journey where shadows flowed.

    The distant light flickered in a fractured motion,
    A beacon in the void of night,
    Its promise, a fleeting trance,
    Drew seekers with its might.

    Each step became an endless strain,
    As the light stayed a phantom’s tease,
    Shadows stretched across the plain,
    Sapped strength, stole ease.

    It cast its lure, a wavering beam,
    Guided through a twisted maze—
    A dream of light, a distant gleam,
    Faded with the morning rays.

    In the end, the distant light stayed afar,
    A glimmer in the vast expanse—
    Shifted like a shooting star,
    Left shadows in its dance.

    The distant light remained a guide,
    A symbol of hopes untold,
    Led those who sought with pride
    To where stories unfolded.

    Yet every seeker, with weary steps,
    Found only relics of the light—
    A fleeting longing in the endless sweep
    Of darkness that devoured the night.

    They chased that light through valleys deep,
    Through mountains steep and vast oceans,
    But each pursuit was met with slumber,
    Where ghouls mocked the seekers’ stride.

    Some turned back, their strength undone,
    By the weight of dreams unrealised.
    Others pressed on toward the sun,
    Their hearts filled with fire, yet their eyes were disguised.

    The distant light, a siren’s call,
    Drew them close, then farther still.
    Through winding paths and towering walls,
    It beckoned with an iron will.

    It whispered promises in the cold blizzard,
    Of realms untouched by grief and woe—
    Of restful nights and peaceful seas,
    Where weary spirits might one day go.

    But every promise led to nought,
    As the light played tricks on eager minds.
    What once was found was soon forgotten,
    In a labyrinth of endless signs.

    The distant light became a hymn,
    Descanted by the wind, carried by dreams,
    An encomium of hope that lingered long,
    In the hearts of those lost in its gleam.

    Still, they chased, though hope grew thin,
    Through dense forests and deserts,
    Believed in the light within—
    A dream that never seemed to die.

    But in the end, the light vanished in the darkness,
    A ghostly wisp, a fleeting flame,
    A memory that could not be tamed,
    A distant star without a name.

    The distant light would never become
    A guide for those who dared to dream—
    Just a memory of a fainted beacon in eternity,
    That flickered in the unseen stream of imagination.

  • Secret Longings

    Secret Longings

    Secret Longings
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    In shadows deep where silence reigned,
    I wandered once, with hopes long feigned.
    My heart, a vault of secret fires,
    Bore dreams that time and grief conspired.
    A whisper lost within the night,
    I sought the stars’ elusive light.
    But every step, though soft and slow,
    Led further from what I would know.

    The walls of time grew thick with dread,
    Encasing all that once was said.
    Beneath the luminaries, a ghostly plea,
    I carved my name on a memory tree.
    Yet winds would blow, and dust would rise,
    To hide the truths behind my eyes.
    A gaze that lingered, filled with thirst,
    But never quenched, forever cursed.

    For there, within the hidden keep,
    Where shadows walked, and spirits wept,
    I found the longing, dark and cold,
    A hunger profound, too strong, too old.
    A silence hung like mourning’s shroud,
    And in its grip, my head was bowed.
    What secrets stirred within the stone,
    Were mine to carry, mine alone.

    The fleeting glimmer of what might,
    Lay far beyond my dimming sight.
    Yet still, I chased that phantom light,
    Through endless corridors of night.
    The taste of dreams, so near, so far,
    It was lost beneath a darkened star.
    And all that once seemed close, so clear,
    Became a distant echo near.

    In those long halls, where stillness crept,
    The shadows deepened as I wept.
    For what is longing but despair,
    A wish that dies upon the air?
    And though I sought with all my will,
    The void within grew immensely still.
    Each corner turned, each door I passed,
    Led further from the truth at last.

    And now, those fires once bright, once warm,
    Are cold, mere embers in the storm.
    The yearning that consumed my days,
    Fades slowly in the endless maze.
    No solace waits beyond this door,
    Only echoes, nothing more.
    And so, I wander, lost in thought,
    A ghost with longings left to fraught.

  • Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and Hopelessness

    Despair and hopelessness feasted with silent dread,
    In the cold embrace of twilight’s breeze,
    There lay the ruins of forsaken dreams,
    A web of anguish woven with unseen seams.

    The ancient house, now shrouded in despair,
    With walls that groaned and whispered tales of wear,
    Stood solemn ‘neath a sky of leaden grey,
    Where hope had long since gone astray.

    Once vibrant halls now choked with dust,
    Held fragments of memories turned to rust,
    Windows fractured, eyes that never saw,
    Bore witness to a sorrowful history.

    Chandeliers, their crystals mournfully fraught,
    Cast ghosts of darkness that time had forgotten,
    While the hearth, bereft of warmth and grace,
    Held only shadows in its hollowed space.

    Every creak, a lament of bygone days,
    Every gust of wind, a mournful phrase,
    The very air, steeped in a spectral gloom,
    Carried whispers of a desolate doom.

    In the dim-lit corners of forgotten rooms,
    Rested fragments of unfulfilled blooms,
    A monument to dreams that could not stay,
    Consumed by the creeping grasp of decay.

    Despair and hopelessness filled the staircase,
    Winding in a mournful bend,
    Each step a cry of unspoken dread,
    Leading to realms where spirits feared treading.

    And as the night descended cold and still,
    The house enshrouded in its bitter chill,
    Became a memorial to the forsaken plight,
    A mausoleum for the fading light.

    In this place of despair and endless nights,
    Where hope had vanished from sight,
    The silence grew profound and stark,
    A gravestone to the desolate dark.

    In the ghostly silence, time itself decayed,
    And the weight of despair and hopelessness swayed,
    The walls whispered secrets of endless nights,
    Where shadows writhed in eternal fright.

    Beneath the starless sky’s oppressive dome,
    The house stood as a haunted tome,
    Each room a verse of mournful lore,
    A testament to what once was and not anymore.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Obscurity and the Night

    The Obscurity and the Night

    The obscurity and the night
    Swallowed the manor’s cursed plight,
    Its shadows were long and dark, a blight,
    A realm where all hope took flight.

    In the labyrinth of forgotten screams,
    Where darkness devours all fractured dreams,
    The manor loomed—a rotting shell,
    Its secrets were drenched in spectral hell.

    Whispers gnawed at shattered stones,
    As ghostly breaths chilled to the bone,
    Once-bright corridors were now twisted, torn,
    Where shadows were left forsaken, forlorn, and worn.

    The echoes of shattered sanity,
    Reverberated through infinity,
    Eyes from portraits, hollow and glazed,
    Gazed upon a world crazed.

    Books lay strewn in a frenzied mess,
    Their pages were torn in mute distress,
    Tales of madness, ink smeared and grim,
    Drenched in a nightmare’s dim.

    The obscurity and the night
    Had cloaked the manor in its fright,
    Where fragments of delight, lost in space,
    Stirred the dust in a frenzied race.

    Fingers traced through cobwebbed lore,
    Seeking meaning on the floor,
    The hearth, cold and decayed,
    Held memories of lives betrayed.

    Cracks in the walls, whispers lost,
    Echoing tales of a ghastly cost,
    A cacophony of shadows spun,
    Twisting ‘neath the spectral sun.

    Broken chandeliers wept their tears,
    As phantom laughter seared the ears,
    The grand staircase, once proud and tall,
    Crumpled in the night’s mad call.

    Ghostly figures waltzed in disarray,
    Their limbs a grotesque ballet,
    The air was thick with doom’s embrace,
    A void where hope couldn’t find its place.

    The obscurity and the night
    Held sway over every frenzied plight,
    Windows shattered, skies bled black,
    Stars devoured, no way back.

    The manor’s pulse, a frantic beat,
    A symphony of despair’s deceit,
    No dawn could pierce the raving black,
    No sun could force the night’s attack.

    The obscurity and the night
    Embraced the manor’s endless fright,
    A realm where sanity’s thread unravels tight,
    Lost forever in the obscurity of night.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Doll’s Curse

    The Doll’s Curse

    The doll’s curse lingered in a dusty attic,
    Beneath cobwebs and forgotten memories,
    Where shadows whispered of past misdeeds
    And echoes of laughter long since lost.

    Gossamer draped like spectral thieves,
    A doll sat motionless, with glassy eyes,
    Its eternal gaze fixed through the past,
    Silent, it spoke of secrets long surpassed.

    Once a cherished companion, now forsaken,
    Its smile, a frozen echo; joy had waned.
    The silence thickened, heavy with dread,
    As the doll’s head turned with a creak, an unseen thread.

    Moonlight filtered through the attic’s grime,
    Casting shadows that twisted with time.
    At night, when darkness wove its shroud,
    The doll awoke, its curse unbound.

    Porcelain limbs, once delicate, pure,
    Moved now with a malevolent allure.
    The doll’s eyes, glinting with ancient hate,
    Became portals to a nightmarish fate.

    As shadows deepened, the house would groan,
    With a spectral wail, a mournful tone.
    The doll’s curse, an eldritch spell,
    Lured the unwary to a darkened hell.

    Whispers floated on the cold, still air,
    Of lost souls trapped in eternal despair.
    The attic’s secret, buried in layers of dust,
    A curse born of malice and betrayal’s rust.

    Those who ventured into this cursed space
    Found their lives erased without a trace.
    Their screams, a haunting melody of fright,
    Echoed in the attic’s endless night.

    The doll remained, its gaze fixed and cold,
    Guarding secrets dark and old.
    Its eyes followed each unwelcome guest,
    Their fate was sealed by a malevolent quest.

    And as the years passed, its curse remained,
    A timeless horror, eternally unchained.
    The attic, a tomb of forgotten fears,
    Bore witness to the doll’s eternal tears.

    In silent watch, the doll endured,
    A symbol of dread, with a curse that lured.
    Its haunted presence, a perpetual blight,
    Cast shadows dancing in the dead of night, restless and bright.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Endless Labyrinth

    The Endless Labyrinth

    The endless labyrinth dwelled in a forest, deep and twisted tight,
    A maze lay hidden from the light.
    Its paths wound through eternal night,
    Where echoes whispered of lost fright.

    Each turn and corner led to despair,
    A maze of terror with no hope of repair.
    The trees grew closer, their branches gnawed,
    As shadows swirled around the clawing darkness.

    Lost dreamers wandered within its grip,
    Guided by whispers that would never slip.
    Their pleas for help were swallowed whole,
    By the labyrinth’s heart, where darkness took its toll.

    The walls, adorned with names of the lost,
    Bore witness to a chilling cost.
    Those who ventured, drawn by fate,
    Found their lives sealed by the maze’s gate.

    The endless labyrinth would claim its prize,
    Feeding on the terror in their eyes.
    And those who entered, never to leave,
    Were trapped forever in the dark reprieve.

    No light could pierce the dense and thick fog,
    No sign of longing in this sinister alcove.
    The air grew heavy and full of dread,
    As the dreams entered, their hopes were long dead.

    The labyrinth, a creature of ancient woe,
    Devoured the light, the flames, the glow.
    Its paths were twisted, wicked and cold,
    A monument to fierce nightmares.

    Fragments of life, faint and lost,
    Went astray through the maze’s frost.
    Each cry for help, each mournful plea,
    Merged with the maze’s eternal spree.

    The gardens beyond became a distant dream,
    As the labyrinth swallowed, all that gleamed.
    No exit was found, and no path was clear,
    Just the dark embrace of endless fear.

    In the heart of the maze, time ceased to exist,
    An eternal torment shrouded in mist.
    Endless paths led nowhere near,
    Trapped in a void of despair and fear.

    The endless labyrinth claims its own,
    And leaves the lost to wander alone.
    No escape, no final breath,
    Only the whisper of approaching death.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Betrayed Dreams

    Betrayed Dreams

    Betrayed dreams were trapped in a dim chasm where fates were doomed.
    Whispered tales revealed fate’s cruel descent.
    Beneath the moon’s cold, watchful gaze,
    Lay the past where hopes had died.

    In twilight’s hush, the atmosphere grew eerie,
    As dark secrets began to whirl.
    Dreams once woven with silver threads,
    Turned pale and dim, cold and dead.

    In forgotten rooms where laments wept,
    Silent murmurs invoked dreams and illusions.
    Through the misty veils of sorrow’s shroud,
    Wandering ghouls summoned long-lost regrets.

    In a garden wild with brambles and thorns,
    Where happiness and brightness once had rambled,
    Stood a phantom, cold and stark,
    Guarding the graves of dreams now dark.

    Waves of delight faded, turning into wails,
    In the dark night where truth had been belied.
    Promises shattered like fragile crystal,
    In the shadows of a tarnished past.

    In cobbled roads beneath the fog,
    Lay the remnants of melancholic memories.
    Once hopeful verses now turned to dust,
    In the silence, everything had disintegrated.

    The clock hands moved in mournful time,
    Marking the end of each hope’s chime.
    In the stillness of the darkness, remembrances stirred,
    Of betrayed dreams, now gone, forsaken.

    The fire’s warmth, now cold and dim,
    The light of hope was no longer trimmed.
    In the ashes of what once had gleamed,
    Lay the remnants of betrayed dreams.

    In twilight’s arms, where shadows slumbered,
    Lay the legend of dreams that had once lived in the labyrinth of imagination.
    In the garden of whispered winds and silent screams,
    Shadows danced upon the traces of bygone dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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