Emptiness and oblivion claimed me as if I had lost all my discernment while wandering in the cold night aimlessly. So little was I acquainted with the mysteries of the night, and the more I proceeded, the more I became bewildered, to the point that there was no wisdom in the precious crystals I had found along my route. Every instant I strove to preserve my fragile dreams that the biting and harsh wind longed to take away from me. My attempt to gather the flowers from my secret garden was in vain since that night when my will started to be bent by the spirits of the darkness. Emptiness and oblivion unexpectedly usurped my realm of arcane enigmas and phantasmagorias. Eerie lullabies attempted to enchant me with their cryptic call but no spell could be cast upon me for I was invulnerable to enchantments. No commitments or vows could tarnish my desire for endless emptiness and oblivion. The mirrors in my abode reflected different images of myself each time I stared at them, as if they scrutinised my soul carefully, like mind readers. Underneath antique frocks, a vintage pocket clock sprang like a living creature of the immortal night showing me an hour that was evermore. Small bronze keys peeked out amidst the chaotic jumble of my enchanted manor. Nothing could be the same anymore. All my attempts to use the bronze keys were fruitless, given that I wasn’t able to discover any lock suitable for their size, but in the end, I didn’t care. All of a sudden everything vanished and I was surrounded by emptiness and oblivion, which had obliterated every treasure and possession of mine. Devastation had accomplished its mission properly and darkness suppressed all the light irradiated by the glimmering stars, which were totally concealed by gloomy clouds. I could no longer make out my former path, and in place of my elegant mansion lay heaps of rubble and fragments of my belongings. The supremacy of emptiness and oblivion was unassailable, in fact, they were my cold-hearted rulers. Nothing could have been altered. Even the stars had lost their authority in the firmament, which had now transmuted into the empire of void.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: gothic storytelling
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Emptiness And Oblivion
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The Restlessness Of The Night
The restlessness of the night never left my quiet chamber adorned with ancient mirrors and candles extinguished by the freezing wind of the darkness.
The silence helped my nightmares discourage my heart from holding dear its long-coveted desires.
Henceforth, I tried not to panic when I realised that I couldn’t find any image of myself in the mirrors of my antique manor.
Not even a portrait was there and each time I tried to perceive my countenance, all I could discover was a box full of sand and decay.
The hours sang an elegy for the passing of the night that was infinite and determined to rule hegemony in the realm of my bizarre fantasies and odd revelations.
Magic dreams were only faraway illusions that had been bestowed to me once again only to be left in the abyss of despair with nothing but my vest full of sand and decay.The restlessness of the night offered me the goblet of eternal torment, alluring me with fairy tales and foolish legends.
I wished to become an invisible creature of the gloomy night, however, I could do nothing but observe my name inscribed on every wall and book that I had encountered.
No importance was given to my will since the day I was born beneath the hollow trees of dismay.
The stars manifested their disregard for me, leaving me in my senseless loneliness, at the mercy of the raging storms that would have swept me away.
In vain, I claimed my liberty from that misfortune, but they came to claim me and all that once was mine, the ghouls from the archaic world of my past misadventures.
Perhaps I could have forgotten the sensations of delight and gentle euphoria.
The restlessness of the night had become the portal to my agony and everlasting grief, which never abandoned my aching heart.
Elisabetta Esther -

In The Abyss Of Nightmares
In the abyss of nightmares, I belonged for epochs, which lasted as long as the obliteration of my dreams became predominant. Perpetually, the invasive obsession with liberty and chance came to me oddly; nevertheless, I was not able to grasp the flower of resilience, which was far too unreachable. Soon I realised that the nights had overtaken the days and the sun was forever gone.
The echo of my lost dreams reverberated like a scream from the infernal abode of the forsaken ghouls, whose souls were being kept in a jar of gold and crystals. I didn’t ask for that lugubre situation, as my heartbeat was as slow as the tolling of an antique clock, accustomed to no longer marking time—not even for the mirrors. A downpour supervened, interrupting that solemn silence.
In the abyss of nightmares, I discovered that losing all my hopes and dreams had become my delight and bliss as if I enjoyed the misery I was destined to endure since the beginning of eras. As long as darkness was eternity, no feeling of compassion or consolation could soothe my heart, which had become a stone, for the nightmares were caring for my soul.
Each phantom I encountered showed me a book made of tears and memories, then flashed a sneer at me, as if satisfied to accompany me to the valley of despair and decay. And there I lay on the gelid soil that absorbed every teardrop of mine, giving life to flowers whose petals were made of sharp rocks. No reprieve was hidden behind the portals of that realm under the sovereignty of shadows and darkness.
I didn’t even need to escape from that place anymore because it had become the most intrinsic part of myself as if I were a creature of the abyss of nightmares and perpetual storms since eternity. And even the sun had melted with the moon transforming into a black star likely a massive sphere of obsidian irradiating me with its powerful gloominess as if to welcome me.
Elisabetta Esther
