Tag: gothic prose

  • A Dismal Obscurity

    A Dismal Obscurity

    A dismal obscurity silently descended over the nighttime in the garden of secret and forbidden desires. Once again, the storm had fulfilled its promise to erase ancient memories and delusional hopes from the realm of fantasies and chimaeras. The nights followed each other like a sequence of fables without any beginning or end. All the flowers withdrew from the tempest’s thunder, leaving soaked soil filled with decay and fragments of burning flames. The bitterness of the magic potions that I had to swallow in my frantic existence turned my heart into a heavy stone to carry through nights of solitude and restlessness. Flares of anguish burst in the nighttime while the stars watched me closely like a bizarre creature, who was unworthy of inhabiting that enchanted place filled with wild eccentricities. The freezing wind was so fiercely cold and violent that I could not remain standing for even a moment, reminding me of my fragility and transience. The more unbearable truths demanded to be revealed the more I shrank from discovering them in the great mirror of dilemmas. No matter how much I wanted to cast off all those painful and demoralising memories, they appeared as menacing shadows wherever I went. A dismal obscurity had cast a spell all over the night and no portal could have conducted me to other surroundings since my fate had decreed that I could never depart from the realm of ill-omened nightmares and indulgent sufferings. The art of suffering had become my delight during those harrowing nights of burning tears. The stupor had not even allowed me a moment to relinquish my role as a dreamer of lost, fragmented dreams. The eternal darkness could have been magnificent each instant that a dismal obscurity had claimed my heart solely for the mere purpose of making me feel in each part of my body the misery of the loss of all my dreams while the stars and the moon mocked me with their looks of contempt.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • In The Labyrinth Of Sighs

    In The Labyrinth Of Sighs

    In the labyrinth of sighs, a place suspended in time and unreachable by human beings, mysterious shadows and riddles lay beneath the crystal starlight that shone brightly over the kingdom of heavenly nightmares. Slowly I tried to find an escape but the more I proceeded the more I found myself at the same point at the very beginning. In vain I studied the opportunities to free myself from that labyrinth, nevertheless, it seemed that there was no chance for me to flee. At each moment a sigh revealed to me a part of the secrets that had been concealed by the clouds of dusk, when the moon could have touched the sleek dark blue surface of the ocean. Ominous shadows manifested their presence around me surrounding me with startling emotions making me hesitate to continue my frenetic quest for freedom. Was all that I needed a quest for the very liberty from an extremely extravagant place claiming my heart in a vehement storm of dismay and longing? As long as I was forced to stay in the labyrinth of sighs I could find myself absorbed in my thoughts between sweet and bitter pleasures while the moon on the horizon re-emerged from the brilliant ocean as if it had been born from the deepest depths. I felt the starlight caressing me softly descending all over me like a rain of delicate petals whose exquisite scent was bewitching but at the same time intimidating me. And however cynical and unscrupulous my cruel fate had been, I could not escape that sense of helplessness and exquisite mourning that had taken root in my heart; while ice-cold tears crept down my face, almost as if to remind me how my misery had become as infinite as the number of stars scattered across the firmament of the dark night. The wind softly whispered painful memories to me just as I had resigned myself to the idea of ​​permanently leaving that place—so deeply hated yet equally yearned for—the labyrinth of sighs and forsaken desires.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Wandering Of The Waves

    The Wandering Of The Waves

    The wandering of the waves and the sound of sighs echoing softly through the forest of lost dreams, reminded me of the fleeting nature of my state—lost in labyrinths of desire and anguish. I could not tell whether I was dreaming or awake, given that reality for me had come to consist of fantastic visions and peculiar dreams. And it was as if the past had poured into the present—which, however, was aimed at the future—and this chaos of future expectations and vague memories of the past never abated as the nights went by. I was confused and lost, yet I did not lose heart at all; on the contrary, I chose to seek out arcane symbols and enchanted grimoires to discover something about myself, given that I could not remember who or what I was. Scarlet flowers caught my eye while I was utterly exhausted from my search in the void, and their petals brought me comfort during the long winter nights when the sense of grief never left my side. Long and sombre were the moments when bitter memories carved symbols of pain and anguish into my heart, and I stood there frozen, as if the night’s chill had stripped away my ability to react and move forward on my path of deranged restlessness. And dreams turned into nightmares that tore away every desire for delights and bliss. The ocean in the distance seemed like a safe haven for my soul, yet its vast immensity in the darkness of night unsettled me, seeming to transform into an abyss of obliteration. And so it was that I lost my battle against a part of myself that wanted to forget all the bitterness of the memories vehemently trying to suck me into their vortex of deep sadness. The bells of the ancient abandoned cemetery rang a funeral fanfare for all those dreams of mine that had been carried away by the sudden storm that had taken possession of my kingdom of forbidden and impervious dreams. Even the clouds had grown sorrowful and voiced their dissent with an incessant rain that washed away every fragment of hope I had kept in a crystal box. I felt dazed and intoxicated by the chaotic confusion of that pandemonium. In the end, I had lost everything I had guarded with such devotion, and even my name had been erased from the entire realm—as if I had never existed. The wandering of the waves no longer soothed me since the night of the loss of my annihilated dreams, which turned to dust and ashes. Dismay found its perpetual abode in my heart and never left, and I embraced a dismal and bleak fate in an absolute silence.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Queen Of Darkness

    The Queen Of Darkness

    The Queen of Darkness lay on a bed made of dust of decay and fragments of dreams she had lost in the abyss of oblivion. Cast away from the ominous shadows of despair the moon manifested dismay hiding behind stormy clouds. While the stars glowed in vain, the feverish night captured their starlight. The creatures of every enchanted forest in the realm of dreams whispered hymns belonging to secret rituals. The nocturnal rain caressed the garden of sighs where the Queen of Darkness kept her most secret and vulnerable treasures, invisible to mortal sight. Whenever the eternal night granted a nightmarish desire to the Queen of Darkness, flowers cried shining pearls that she was preserving in a secret treasure chest underneath her mysterious garden. Wonders and marvels blossomed like precious blossoms in that splendid mesmerising realm whose inhabitants were creatures of the infinite obscurity. Elyse, the Queen of Darkness, spent entire nights reclusive in her fantastic castle, inhabited by spirits and ghosts from the Otherworld, who guided her through intricate quests of witchcraft and magic spells. Stardust and gloominess adorned the palace constantly illuminated by perpetual candles although darkness reigned all over the kingdom. The constant search for perfection fell into a snare in the instant Elyse made the acquaintance of the loss of all her treasures, which vanished into the emptiness. The despair and dismay captured her heart and she shed a flood of tears in the face of such a ghastly surprise. Moreover, the power of the Queen of Darkness became weaker and weaker, as if all the bad memories had taken over at that precise moment when Elyse had lost her hidden gems. What the fantastical fate of this fairy of the night might hold in store was largely unknown, yet the kingdom grew ever darker and more silent. The freezing winter had taken hold of this entire world of dreams and nightmares, and—alas—Elyse remained trapped in her castle, which was by then made of ice and thorny brambles. In that magical world, time no longer existed, and the only season was the freezing winter that had stolen away every trace of delights and sighs of joy. The night was there, watching, with the stars and the moon hiding behind an immensity of threatening clouds. Elyse, the Queen of Darkness, had also vanished, just as all her treasures and the flowers of her enchanted garden had disappeared. Everything seemed like chaos, and flowers of cold stone had sprung up everywhere in the kingdom. There was no end nor beginning now that the eternal oblivion had taken control of everything and nothing in the same way. And so it was that the legend of the Queen of Darkness became a phantasmagorical chimaera.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Undisclosed Secrets

    Undisclosed Secrets

    Undisclosed secrets were kept inside antique grimoires like precious jewels well preserved in inaccessible treasure chests. While I was insensitive to the gripping cold wind of the night surrounding me, I fell into a state of torpor maintaining an absolute stillness. Although I had no particular attitude of letting events overwhelm me, I could not resist the escalation of events my fate decided to divulge to me. Memories drifted slowly through my mind, weighing down my heart like burdens too heavy to bear. That excruciating pain that tormented the deepest recesses of my heart had never left me alone, not even during the deepest sleep. And it was precisely in the deepest darkness that I rediscovered my secret refuge of peace and solitude. No mortal who happened upon those enchanting books would have been able to find—let alone decipher—the undisclosed secrets I myself had inscribed in my magical grimoires. Night became eternal, and I had become a creature of darkness, shunning the prying eyes of humankind, with whom I no longer had any connection. Silently, I listened to the melody of the stars gleaming in the gloomy sky like everlasting flames. The sound of faraway bells evoked spirits that seemed like the shadows of my fears, which had not yet dissolved into nothingness. The anguish I felt plunged me into an ocean of unease and a peculiar kind of mourning that deprived me of all my desires. Those undisclosed secrets I tried to preserve were no longer where I had placed them in the form of arcane symbols; in fact, my grimoires had become blank-page books immersed in the emptiness of oblivion. My memories faded away afterwards as if I were a creature with no past, living in a wintry realm where time had been obliterated. Regrets and disappointments turned my heart to stone, and nothing could touch my sensitive inner self anymore—not even the bitter, permanent loss of my most cherished undisclosed secrets.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.

    Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.

    The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.

    Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.

    I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.

    Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.

    Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.

    I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.

    In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I Fell In Love With My Demons

    I fell in love with my demons, and I wandered alone like a feral creature in the forest, feeling a burning passion every time I tasted the night, suspended in the eternity of darkness. I was haunted and viciously allured by creatures of the night.

    I sought my reflection in broken mirrors adorned with crystals and silver. However, I was never capable of seeing my countenance in them. My bed wasa sarcophagus, and my only devoted abettors were evil ghouls and ravens.

    Every night, I drowned in the ocean of tears made of pain and anguish. The only light I could gaze upon was the crimson moonlight staring at me ferociously. As much as I tried to avoid my phobias and nightmares, they constantly terrified me in the shapes of shadows and ghosts.

    I mourned through the endless night over all the despair and distress I could no longer avoid. Exhaustion consumed me entirely. The most agonising fears penetrated my heart with their thorns like prickly brambles.

    I was perpetually entangled in ruinous dismay, and I was ensnared in a web of anguish and obsession. A burning flame overwhelmed my heart, devouring it. I was transformed into a spectre made of fire and frost.

    I fell in love with my nightmares, and I embraced all the pain I was destined to endure. My yearnings were my ruin, and I surrendered to their devastation. I didn’t fight against doom and decay anymore; I embodied them.

    I took advantage of my secret haven carved in ice and fire. Darkness didn’t scare me any longer, for I was made of gloom and shadows. Absurdity became my norm as I was altered into a complete oddity. I stood as a total aberration before mortal eyes.

    No creature could save me from that deadly and tainted chasm, where I finally embraced my most authentic essence. I fell in love with everlasting oblivion and infinity. I rediscovered devotion and bliss in delirium and hallucinations.

    My utmost pleasure was losing my heart, which was speared by the demons I cherished the most. I clasped my madness with a rope made of thorns and hooks. I sprawled on ashes and dust, sinking into an eternal slumber.

    Eternity and disintegration were in me, as well as the steady necessity to sense dismay. Pain was an exquisite gift that my evils offered to me. I transmuted to darkness and oblivion. I had no name, and no mirror could reflect my countenance.

    Obsession and tragedy were engraved in my heart. A deluge of frenzies bloomed like stone flowers. The eternal night welcomed me and revealed to me all its arcane secrets.

    The sound of solitude rumbled like a menacing roar. The only light shining over me was the crimson moonlight, soaked in remembrances and forbidden oaths. I fell in love with my demons and dismay. Every teardrop of mine became decay.

    Tormented ruins and relics emerged in the graveyard of my deceased dreams. The stars halted to shed light on me. Darkness became eternity and infinity.
    Elisabetta Esther

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