Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Gothic

  • Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant dreams appeared like magnificent paintings of different natures, making me feel all those emotions I never felt in real life. I wondered what it would be possible to achieve in my marvellous fantasies. Nevertheless, I never realised in my entire existence what my fate wanted me to understand through prophecies and nightmares.

    The antique clock struck each hour, while its pendulum swung relentlessly from side to side, echoing the inexorable passage of time, and inducing me to find my magic manuscript of phantasmagorias and peculiarities. In truth, I had the intention to cast a spell over the moon and the stars. My vanity allowed me to relinquish all control over my heart and I was finally able to see the chaos and power of my imagination.

    Extravagant dreams became my secret treasures in the lonely nights whenever the clouds covered all the luminaries, hiding the moon in their soft gloominess. Every time I awakened in the middle of the night only to realise that there was no possibility to question the stars about my shadows and destiny. Since bedlam ruled my life, my heart knew no certitudes but an exigent desire to look at the swarthy face of the moon.

    Majestic ravens were my loyal witnesses to my endless thirst for vengeance. Indeed, I so often dreamed of seeing justice appear in the shape of frightening ghouls as a gift to those entities that had mistreated me so badly. My awkward and extravagant dreams were constantly my guides, willing to soothe all my resentments and grief, which were huge burdens inside my heart like inextinguishable flames.

    Silence didn’t succeed in pacifying all my trepidations, in fact, I was by then at the mercy of the tumultuous winds of an approaching storm. I couldn’t even listen properly to the echoes of my thoughts lingering in the emptiness of the night like withered flowers. Extravagant dreams were no longer my shadows following me everywhere, instead, there was only a bare landscape with no trees, just a few meadows and the dust of my memories which were not there with me anymore.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The spell of the blank mirror; an invisible chain to a realm that drew me into its clutches. I had recited their arcane enchantment each night while my eyes were hidden by an ephemeral black veil and my lips were crimson from the nectar of my roses. I listened to their hypnotic spell, alluring like a siren song. Even though my eyes were closed, I could see everything and beyond every kind of imagination.

    I had achieved new perceptions, unknown among ordinary mortals. I could see a new realm invisible to humans where my heart was copiously bleeding my soul over a garden of black roses, which were avid for my essence seeking to sip until the very last drop. A sequence of visions took me away from reality. I wasn’t alive anymore, but I wasn’t lifeless either. I had vowed loyalty to the sacred order of magic.

    I could not abide what my own senses had forced me to witness. I saw ghouls feeding their ego with the shallow souls of imbecilic beings. The more I tried to understand myself, the more I felt that the emptiness inside me swallowed me. And the everlasting fire that sustained my heart alive transformed into an abyss of vengeance and fury. I became the night and the night became myself.

    I embraced my descent to the realm of Hades as the most exquisite triumph of my tragic existence. I could taste the poison of the spell of the blank mirror; a tangible proof of my occult sensitivity in perceiving things invisible to human sight. Accompanied by ravens and ghastly vaults, I metamorphosed into an ethereal creature, who no mortal could defeat. I became sacred to the vicious ghouls of the darkness; they carved their arcane symbols into my heart and soul, soaking my heart with their eternal essence.

    I had become infinite and eternal. I had surpassed the stars of which I had now become the only sovereign. I had become the night and the darkness. I had become an ethereal creature, detached from the corrupted world of the mortals. Lightning and thunder celebrated me as the dark queen of the eternal night. I retained all the glimmering light of the luminaries, and I veiled the moon with a velvet shroud made of lace and silk. I didn’t want any light or fire shine in this realm of perpetual nightfall.

    My endearing devils whispered arcane revelations, stroking me with delicate black roses, whose scent of night unfolded in resins and shadowed petals, drifting like smoke through the galleries of my secret and mysterious realm. I indulged in euphoria and dismay, now that my heart had become a holy crypt full of scorn and vengeance. My incubuses and nightmares paid me tributes and praises. All my suffering scars have become hieroglyphics, sigils, pentacles, hexagrams, runes, and obscure seals, etched in dark ink and shadow.

    The spell of the blank mirror vanished like a faint sob in the midst of an impetuous hurricane; it accomplished its mission of initiation and metamorphosis through which I went, leaving me inscribed with the silent glyphs of the unseen, marked by the sigils of shadowy forces, and bound to the eternal drafts of occult supremacy. Crowned and powerful, I sipped a magic elixir from a chalice wrought of relics and raven feathers, and I tasted the obscure bliss of nightmares and granted elation.

    I had disappeared and been reborn as the night and darkness. Every whisper I uttered became a decree for my loyal ghosts, and the scales of justice had finally been weighed in my favour. Fairness had been accomplished in my favour, at the threshold of the Nether Thresholds. And I feasted and reigned with my consecrated coven of beloved witches and phantoms, bound to me evermore.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Possessed And Haunted By My Yearnings

    Possessed And Haunted By My Yearnings

    Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was bewitched by wicked creatures and exquisite ghouls, which I cherished each night devoutly.

    My heart had been dilapidated and torn apart by mortal shallow caprices. I did cast fatal spells that shattered hearts and obliterated kingdoms. My longings were my ruin and delight.

    I felt pierced by arrows of passion, and I could breathe ecstatic instants of decay. I sought transformation. I was willing to free my soul in the frosty wind of the winter nights.

    All my precious dreams had been turned to ashes of sorrow. My heart was just an ethereal fragment of ardour with no mercy for those who harmed me. Thus, I surrendered to frenzy and bitterness.

    I wailed all my wrath to the stars at midnight. I summoned my beloved nightmares, who listened carefully to my invocations. Therefore, the most fierce storms annihilated those who took me for granted, replacing me with shallow puppets.

    I recited my poetic rhymes made of esoterism and black magic in the worst moments of dismay and chagrin. I sang to the sun and to the moon my anguish while crying tears of crimson crystals. I wished for oblivion and fearless vengeance.

    My dreadful sobs eclipsed the sound of many thunders and maelstroms. Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was sorely lacking in my innocence. Instead, I had become the embodiment of passion.

    I begged all the underworld creatures to calm my anger down. Still, the only possible outcome was a chant of vengeance, wrapped in a black rope and sealed with the wax of raven and crimson candles.

    I conjured all the underworld spirits and sublime spectres, my most loyal companions, and they responded to my visitation. They unleashed turmoil and havoc, and they took me with them into their realm of Hades.

    Surrounded by crystal crowns and stone flowers, I had become a sorceress and the queen of shadows and forbidden realms. In my heart, there were only tainted spells and vexations. Surrounded by nightmares, I finally found myself in the realm of untamed desires and ruthless darkness.
    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

  • The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The abyss of nothingness swallowed all my fractured desires
    The fear that gripped my heart and that sense of calm, of stability that took hold of my life made me a helpless and insignificant creature, invisible to mortals, yet at the same time the target of their cruelties.

    How much I wished to be different, to be accepted, and to be treated with great respect for who I truly was. But in truth, my entire life was a series of piercing endurance of inhuman suffering, humiliations, cruelties against me, deceit, mockery, traps, attempts to undermine my being, violence, and all the most barbaric and terrifying acts against my soul and myself.

    My life had not been a normal existence—one that no one could have understood. My experience was not a common one. I had lived through a time when my dream had encapsulated me in an ideal, evanescent, and ethereal reality. No one could see me, especially during that period of apparent death. Yes, because for ten long years I had not lived—I had fallen into a deep and fatal dream, isolated from everything and everyone. I had built my own kingdom of dreams and illusions, into which, day by day, I entrusted my very self.

    All the hourglasses in my dwelling had come to a halt, and the flow of time had lost all meaning. The disconnection from the truth that surrounded me had become both a tendency and a habit—one that turned into law. Indeed, I had become like a crystal frozen in time, like a statue untouched by its passing. I carried within me that immaterial sense of my heart, trapped in a confining aura.

    I no longer cared what society thought, nor what people might perceive of me. And so it remains. For my rarity and my strangeness are imperceptible to any human heart. I was accused of things that never were, of things my heart could not even fathom. Everything had vanished like soap bubbles. Nothing remained—only bitter memories or sorrowful ones that dragged me down into the depths of an untouchable abyss.

    Delicate and fragile as I was, I had lost the ability to love, to admire, and to obey mortals. I no longer saw them as similar to me, but rather, I perceived other beings—creatures who had no voice in the human condition—as kindred, as dear to me. And so it was that the abyss of nothingness possessed me, and it will always possess a part of my soul. For I belong to the emptiness and to the darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The Kingdom Of Paradoxes And Absurdities

    The kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities was the place where bullying and arrogance reigned supreme, sovereign over vulgarity and stupidity. They wallpapered the walls of every place that held court in such a realm.

    Anything that could be imagined was both unreal and real at the same time. It could exist or not exist. Absurdity, however, was the master of the place. Thus, everything my logic deemed possible was tangible and predictable. In truth, it could neither take place nor be actualised in such sovereignty.

    I cannot say that I was dreaming, nor can I say that I was awake. In a state of shock and surrender of my ego, I could no longer even discern whether I was daydreaming or hallucinating. All I could say was what my sensations and perceptions made me feel in every part of my soul and heart, in every part of my body.

    Although I had firmly decided not to bend to the will of others, not to bow down or worship the conventions imposed on me persistently, I fell into a deadly trap—a kind of imprisonment, a state of captivity from which I could not free myself. Invisible chains that I felt and perceived in my body and heart held dominion over my life and my way of thinking.

    My jewellery box had been plundered. All my secrets had been revealed by indiscreet tongues. And my protection had vanished. It was as if I had become a defenceless flower in the midst of a threatening desert.

    I had to say goodbye to my version of myself, which was no longer alive. I had to say goodbye to all those visions that had deceived me falsely, when my naivety clouded my sight.

    In the kingdom of paradoxes and absurdities, I had to succumb and suffer. I had nowhere else to go. And the more I tried to escape, the more it seemed that this strange land expanded beneath my feet, preventing me from crossing its high and menacing walls. And what could the sky do but watch me, almost mocking me in an indifferent and cynical manner.
    Elisabetta

  • The Ninth Seal

    The Ninth Seal

    The ninth seal
    Because the hour was nine. Or almost.
    Paris wept softly blue through cobblestones and gaslight.
    A monster came,
    not with claws nor teeth,
    But with wheels,
    A chained demon in place of horses,
    and the roar of hatred and madness disguised as an engine.

    He saw me.
    He chose me.
    He had determined that I had to die by his shameful hand
    The madman with the skull face,
    The carriage forged in a nightmare,
    drunk on fury,
    under a wicked spell,
    his infernal claws trembling not from fear —
    But from the thrill of ending me.

    And I,
    Just a girl in a pale embroidered dress,
    Crowned with strands of gold and unarmed,
    But not unguarded.

    For something stopped him.
    Something unseen.
    A force older than rot,
    stronger than rage,
    woven from secret whispers and gold light
    spilt from my angelic protector gaze.

    The wheels screamed.
    The demons reared.
    And time stopped to exist
    As the carriage froze inches from my heart.

    Behind me,
    two hags —
    with teeth like monuments and gums raw as hunger,
    bald as ancient ruins,
    laughed as if grace were weakness
    and survival, shame.

    Their laughter didn’t touch me.
    I walked on,
    not broken.
    Not bowed.
    My feet were flame and precious gemstones.

    I passed through death
    I passed through judgment
    as one who had died before —
    and been reborn
    With mirrors behind her eyes
    and dustless bones.

    No prayer was spoken.
    No sword was drawn.
    But a pact was sealed in starlight and crystal blaze.

    And so I say:

    Nine are the circles, nine the keys.
    I cloak myself in stone and destiny.
    He who looks sees nothing, he who listens hears no sound,
    But I stand guarded, armed with beauty,
    And no evil enters where nine times I have said yes.
    Elisabetta

  • Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares and visions visited me in the middle of the night, when sleep abandoned me to an otherworldly realm never seen nor imagined.
    The fog had clouded every vision, and I could see nothing but the shadows of faint images—spirits moving around me.

    My light sleep was nothing but a portal to a world where torment awaited me, and my heart was torn apart, again and again, without mercy. My gentle expectations had dissolved into the dark horizon, and I could see them no more.

    Indeed, I had become a creature of darkness, devoid of ambitions and expectations, for in truth what was destined for me was absolute emptiness—the total absence of life, love, and joy.

    How could I have held even the smallest hope of escaping that realm of darkness and despair? I no longer knew what life was—full of light, full of love, of hopes and delights.

    Had I been able to foresee my terrifying fate, I might have fled—perhaps among the clouds or the stars—if they had taken me into their realm.

    I might have been melancholic, perhaps—I don’t know—because at that moment I refused to accept any kind of feeling that my heart wished to embrace within itself. It was as if my heart had been torn from my chest and replaced with thorns.

    Pierced and betrayed by that world full of conventions, hypocrisy, titles, and useless materialism, I fled far away but fell into the trap of the world I myself had created in my visions—and that is why nightmares and visions were my most faithful companions, without whom I could not have survived.

    I breathed my last breath and, sighing, surrendered to the cold, sharp, and cruel embrace of the otherworldly realm.
    Elisabetta

  • The Memories Of The Past

    The Memories Of The Past

    The memories of the past drag me into their swirling realm of despair.
    Alone, I find myself in a desolate place, a pit of the living dead—buried memories in the graveyard of my past. All I see are rows of lifeless trees.

    I pretend it is autumn, or perhaps winter, yet in truth this entire landscape is but a reflection of my dead and decaying soul.
    The darkness of the night does not frighten me—on the contrary, it is part of me. I am no longer who I once was; I have become a spirit of the night.

    The emptiness within me is filled with fears and regrets, and with all that I have lost unconditionally and irreversibly—things I shall never have again. And thus, the wreck of my existence: not only is it wretched, but also laden with pain.

    My cries of pain and my screams of despair are worth nothing. I have never been worth anything—only to wither my soul, already inscribed with daggers of disappointment and betrayals, inflicted by monstrous and mortally deplorable beings.

    All my crumpled desires and shattered dreams lie underground among the remnants of my memories and regrets. Left without emotions and left without words, I surrender to my nightmares, to my anguished obsessions that permeate my heart and tear it into a thousand pieces.

    My tormentors advance relentlessly, ready to tear me apart and destroy me in oblivion and forgetfulness. How much longer I must suffer, I do not know. I only know that cruel fate has entrusted me to the ship of the wretched and lost souls.

    The memories of my past haunt me insolently and give me no peace, and so I shall spend the eternity of my non-existence as a restless spirit.
    Elisabetta

  • Bearing The Yoke Of My Fate

    Bearing The Yoke Of My Fate

    Bearing the yoke of my fate
    I strive to stand up in a reality of tears and screams
    So often, I felt the overwhelming weight of my choices
    As if the sky had fallen over me like an antique drape
    And regrets swallow my heart, shattering it into pieces

    So, I remained alone in an empty chamber furnished only by silence and darkness
    And there I lingered, soaked in my hallucinations and sorrows
    I lost the sense of time
    I close my eyes, and I perceive the emptiness of existence
    The past and the present blend like colours on a canvas

    I wonder what the sense of my life was and is
    Is all the suffering worth it?
    Can my tears wash away my pain?
    It should be the time to lose control of rationality
    As if I want to pretend that I have some sparkle of wisdom
    Nevertheless, everything is vain, and everything will eventually be obliterated

    Bearing the yoke of my fate
    I wander in the vastness of desolation and indifference
    Should I have been dreaming all night, I knew not
    Because I wasn’t awake or as well asleep
    I only felt a sweet languor
    I only felt a sharp and atrocious pain
    Dragging me deep into the abyss of self-destruction
    Elisabetta

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