Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: haunting

  • My Heart Is Made Of Ink

    My Heart Is Made Of Ink

    My heart is made of ink and blood
    My heart is made of fantasy and dreams
    Surreal place of celestial beauty and stars
    An enigmatic and impenetrable domain

    A realm where thoughts are tangled in fragile webs
    And spectral creatures swirl beneath the silvery light of forsaken moons
    While silent winds carry tales from ancient fables
    Under a sky brushed with infinite hues

    In this realm, I am both adrift and entwined
    My heart is bound to the ink that flows through my veins
    My entire body is blooming like a flower of rhymes
    Where verses unfurl from my petals and thorns

    A world tempest of emotions surges in my heart
    Crumbling my essence into the dust of decay
    Carving elegies upon the hollow firmament
    Where no stars are allowed to shine

    The constellation of startling stars dissolves into the abyss of emptiness
    The obscure chasm that stretches in front of me
    Alluring me in its terrifying emptiness to swallow my soul
    While letters are dripping from my fingers like midnight raindrops

    I became part of the eternity of the abyssal night
    I am no longer bound by shapes or names,
    I dissolve into the void of eternity,
    Like a tiny snowflake lost in the stillness of oblivion

    My desires are fading into the marrow of the darkness
    Within the silence, mysterious secrets are engraved in the bones of dreadful shadows
    And unspoken ballads are waiting to be unconcealed
    An inextinguishable flame is burning and flickering within the core of twilight

    I am drowning in the deep abysm
    Although even in the most profound darkness, ink still flows like blood from my heart
    And my insolent utterances burn against the void
    A ghostly glimmer where stars once shone

    My heart is made of ink and darkness
    My heart is a requiem of dreams and sorrows
    A secret alcove veiled by the mist of silent elegies.
    Elisabetta

  • Soft Daggers Of Dismay

    Soft Daggers Of Dismay

    Soft daggers of dismay pierced my heart
    While I was helpless in my slumber
    Like a magic spell enticing me with its sweet melancholy
    I abided to embrace resignation as a matter of reality

    Burning flames destroyed all my words
    And the only thing that remained was silence
    And absolute silence in the darkness of the night
    While the cold wind of indifference pinned me like a butterfly in a cloud

    Many thoughts and memories made me realise that I was raving over nothing
    Because nothing really mattered but my distorted idea of reality
    Leading me astray in a garden of thorns and hollow trees
    Where I found my inner leisure and despondency

    The pluralism of my essence overwhelmed me
    It was like to be conscious of a fragmentation of the soul
    Concealing myself behind the fountain of unknown
    I embraced my fate as an undefined creature of the ethereal world of fantasies

    Soft daggers of dismay pierced my heart
    Making it bleed into a garden of crimson flowers
    Where the alluring scent bewildered my senses
    Leading the way at the edge of an abysm
    A chasm of devastation and death

    Crying and screaming
    I remained at the bottom of a gorge
    My teardrops formed an impetuous river that swept me away
    Until I found myself senseless and confused
    As I was reborn in a new life

    The soft daggers of my dismay turned into thorns surrounding my heart
    The sweetness of this pang made me feel a flower rooted in a forest of nightmares
    Where the faded sound of cries echoed in the nocturnal landscape
    Exhaustion overcame me

    Writing my feelings in ink forged from tears and blood
    I carved every single letter on a parchment of memories
    Remembrances emerged like ghosts lingering around me
    Striving to choke me with their pointed fingers
    While I fell into a profound slumber
    To never wake up and face the reality

    Hence I lay in a garden of crimson flowers
    Where nonsense was the only decree
    And phantasmagoria was the only truth
    While the whispers of the abyss lulled me into a forever oblivion.
    Elisabetta

  • Nonsense In The Evening

    Nonsense In The Evening

    Nonsense in the evening
    Sad and apathetic, I abandoned myself to nonsense
    As I was supposed to be someone with no state of mind
    Indeed, I had no aims or plans

    I felt like a dead leaf falling from a tree
    I felt like a pinwheel that spins empty under the influence of the wind
    Was I supposed to feel something other than discontent?
    It might be as I was listening to the birds singing in the tree

    And so the evening passed like the flowing of a quiet river
    Unperturbed by what was around me
    Because the abyss of anguish was enticing me
    Trapping me in a dungeon of sorrow and dismay
    As I had the certitude that there was no hope for me

    Dreaming and deluding myself has always dragged me into a labyrinth of darkness and decay
    A storm of turmoil invested me
    Leaving me astray
    Faraway from any horizon of sanity

    Emptiness became my realm of fancy
    Although I have always aspired to belong to a different kingdom
    Where the dust of stars would fall over me
    Enlighting me with their comforting and candid glow

    The towering and outstanding sight of my nightmares was hypnotising me
    And I could not avoid to flee from them
    As they cast a wicked spell on me
    To eternally suffer from all the most ominous hoaxes

    Shuttered windows were in front of me
    The windows to my dreams and desires were cruelly sealed
    Nonsense in the evening was my special date
    No stars were present in my nocturnal sky
    No moon was there to wait for me

    All my sparkling wishes faded into the infinite decadence
    Because I belonged only to decadence and I longed to be surrounded by dust of decay
    The decay of my wisdom and certainty was the only certitude I cherished in my treasure chest
    And all that could remain in my heart was nonsense in the evening of my day.
    Elisabetta

  • Beguiled by Doubt and Fear

    Beguiled by Doubt and Fear

    Beguiled by doubt and fear, I wandered in the darkness of the night, searching for deception and truth.

    I remembered that the sun had just set down slowly, diving into the ocean depths and dissolving completely.

    Struggling to keep myself alive, trying to not think and not remember, hence not suffering anymore.

    Successfully, I discovered refuge in the oblivion of my senses, no longer understanding what reality and illusion were.

    Sobbing and gasping until I couldn’t breathe anymore, I fell like a dead flower on the cold ground, and there I lay down, remaining senseless like a deadly slumber.

    I awoke in a new realm, but I was not alive anymore because I belonged to the kingdom of death and oblivion.

    I was happily dead for the rest of eternity, an ethereal and metaphysical creature rambling in an endless night.

    I was no longer living, beguiled by doubt and fear. Betrayal and lies were not part of my life anymore, and neither phoney love belonged to my realm.

    I was finally free from vultures and deception. My essence was pure, like a crystal gem shining under the moonlight.

    Alone, I wandered, and I still strolled among shadows and memories, feeling a grudge and the emptiness of the eternal night.

    Silence surrounded me like a haunting ghost, following me everywhere, always lingering. I heard nothing but the echoes of my own obsessions.

    Teardrops descended over my body, cold manifestations of my sorrow and my anguish, silent sighs of my despair and my invisible wounds.

    I embraced death and defeat forever, perceiving their cruel grasp over me; their wicked blade pierced me brutally until it shattered me to pieces.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Under The Spell of Despair

    Under The Spell of Despair

    Under the spell of despair and distress, I fell into a slumber that dragged me to a realm of darkness and madness.

    Disquietude welcomed me like a soft petal falling on the frigid soil soaked with tears and blood in a domain where I had always been a nobody.

    The sound of a storm kept me asleep as I was under a dark spell of pain. Loving to be possessed by an anguish that was piercing and breaking me.

    A sharp blade stroked me just as an affection manifestation of my nightmares, visiting me like haunting spirits, leaving me bleeding my soul out.

    Decadent desires of lust grabbed my body, tearing me apart with their alluring viciousness, leaving me like a crushed rose whose blood stained red all over the garden grass.

    Faraway, wicked echoes of phoney oddities and curiosities claimed me as their biological creature and beloved possession of my early youth. They trampled upon my essence repeatedly until my soul dissolved into nothingness.

    Old forbidden secrets were kept inside my heart like decayed treasures made of rotten fondness. They made me feel like a butterfly without wings and without a name.

    And so, I became nameless and faceless, ensnared under the spell of despair and mortification, revelling in the triumph of decadence and the torment of existence.

    Floundering in the unfathomable depths of an ocean of dreams and illusions, I drifted endlessly, lost within their spectral embrace.

    In the end, I became a crimson blossom, sustained by the moonlight’s ghostly glow and the deception of my obscene dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Eternal Night

    The Eternal Night

    The eternal night within myself was sombre and mysterious,
    Like an obscure, vast, nocturnal ocean welcoming the starless night sky,
    A dark sky diving down into the sea depths.

    Obsessive was the wind hissing ominously against me,
    And in the same time, pushing me inside that frightening water realm,
    Where I was very driven to jump and disappear forever.

    Alone and lonely, I remained on the brink of the precipice,
    From where I heard a captivating spell of death and delight,
    Forgetting about every endeavour to endure a ruthless existence.

    I became the night, and the darkness pierced me like a sharp, poisoned arrow,
    Ready to be destroyed like a fragile crystal flower,
    With the awareness that I would become a part of the infinite void.

    And an absolute silence lit the memories within myself,
    Condemning me to relive my past,
    A realm I’ve always sought to escape.

    The void opened its maw, revealing itself a chasm of legends and glooms,
    Summoning me with its enchanting spell, recalling all I had lost,
    A dirge was sung by several faceless mirrors of sorrow and despair.

    Each remembrance burned like a fading flame,
    Illuminating instants that I dared not revisit,
    Although they lived like unbidden guests inside the darkness of my soul.

    I strived to stay away from that endless obscurity,
    Trembling as soon as its cold grasp reached and touched me,
    Provoking disturbing sensations and visions within me as fragments of life shattered into countless pieces.

    The waves below surged like spectral wraiths,
    Touching, pulling, claiming me as their own belonging,
    Promising delight and mirth in the depths of nothingness.

    I lingered suspended in that ethereal dwelling between life and death,
    Between the yearning to vanish,
    And the curse of perpetual souvenirs.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Dark Vault

    The Dark Vault

    The dark vault of death and desires was the hidden alcove where all the dreams became flowers of death.

    Desires painted the antique wallpaper in red blood, casting a spell on whoever dared to dream in a deadly slumber trapped in those walls.

    No light could have pierced the darkness that ruled that niche, not even the silvery moonlight, so shy to surrender to all that gloominess.

    Far away from every kind of imagination, desires, and dreams were nothing else than a beautiful aspect of death, with the only purpose of obliterating everything.

    No dream would have ever come true; instead, they would manifest the only final aim: the perpetual and endless destruction of all that was pure and magnificent.

    The dark vault was a mysterious crypt that existed only in a chimerical realm where time and space made no sense.

    The walls of this eldritch place were adorned with mirrors of betrayal, their shattered surfaces still gleaming.

    Each fragment reflected only the phantoms of lost expectancies and fractured souls. Every sliver concealed a story of despair, hissing in the silent domain of this dark vault.

    In the heart of this chasm stood a grave of glooms carved from obsidian and veined with crimson ichor.

    A tome rested upon the grave; its pages were inked with the anguish of a thousand forgotten souls.

    To read from this book meant to be bound to the vault forever, chained by the weight of desires turned to ash.

    Sobs crept as if disembodied voices murmured secrets of aggrieved existences. They wove around the corners like the Hydra, promising happiness and pleasure but delivering only torments.

    They unveiled tales of love turned decayed, of corrupted ambitions, of defiled innocence—all reduced to hollow vestiges of what could have existed.

    The darkness surrounded everything as a cruel reminder that no dream could ever flourish in such a place.

    Those naive dreamers who stumbled into this dark vault were ensnared by its grim allure. Their desires, once flamboyant and passionate, were siphoned away, leaving their spirits barren and their forms reduced to statues of cinders.

    These uncautious wanderers remained permanently frozen in agony, outstretching their arms and striving to seize dreams that were lost forever.

    The vault itself seemed like a living creature, feeding on the despair it provoked and expanding its labyrinth routes with each new prey.

    New grotesque chambers unfurled like malignant blooms, adorned with relics of devastated hearts and the skeletal relics of every aborted dream.

    There was no escape in this wicked vault, for it was an eternally cursed and tragic realm—a liminal space that swallowed all, reducing everything to echoes in its mournful symphony.

    The dark vault was the embodiment of the inevitable, where every dream, every desire, every spark of life came to die.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • A Long Night of Desires

    A Long Night of Desires

    A long night of desires and regrets beneath the infinite darkness of the firmament disclosed many dreams and secrets.

    And for each memory, a terrible ghost of the past appeared under the shape of an ominous shadow whose silent scream shattered every flower to dust.

    A fearless storm surrounded the night with its thunders and gloomy clouds, obliterating every trace of beauty from the realm of dreams and darkness.

    Giving way to nothingness and void that swallowed everything with an eerie fury.
    All that remained was a desert with scattered fragments of emotions and love.

    The moonlight lit flames of longing and despair, glinting like shattered glass, trembling with soft murmurs.

    Every blossom of the garden of distress flowered into a withered bloom, and each petal fell like a sour teardrop, dissolving into the sand.

    The inextinguishable emptiness exhaled its yearning across the barren universe, and its absolute silence swelled louder than the storm’s wildest cry.

    Hopes dissolved into the blank abyss like a river of lost dreams flowing to nowhere while love’s faint flames glinted, swallowed by the surreal dimness.

    Into the maze of sorrow, the eternal night became infinite and relentless, with its secrets buried beneath waves of grief.

    Glooms and clouds depleted all the frail remnants of light and joy, replacing them with immense anguish and decay.

    The long night of desires became an endless night of regrets when nightmares swirled around the world like haunting ghouls, tormenting every slumber.

    The infinite abyss of darkness extinguished everything, enclosing every faded memory of a realm once alive and now barely reduced to fragments of despair.

    A wailing blizzard agonised the desert of despair, dragging all the fragments of forgotten dreams and scattering the ashes of love that once burned radiant.

    The stars above, veiled by eternal dismay, became hollow gazes observing the doomed ruins below, becoming witnesses to a tale of a long night of desires devoured by the infinite chasm of oblivion.

    The firmament extended its icy and infinite arms, claiming all and leaving nothing but an absolute silence resounding as a boundless and eternal requiem for dead dreams.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss of Oppression

    The Abyss of Oppression

    The abyss of oppression was a realm of shadows and fear where hope decayed,
    And a silent grip began its play, winding in a dark embrace,
    And pulling everything into a hollow alcove.

    In haunted kingdoms, gloomy clouds distressed tranquillity,
    The poundage of insanity was so cruel and cold,
    That no hope dared to hold dreams and expectations anymore,
    While sinking in the deep and poisoned blight of fear.

    Starlight grew frail like a fragile gem,
    In an eerie aura that stained the sky dead,
    Beneath, where the sun had lost its way,
    Where longings lay cast but ghostly grey.

    In dismay, sorrow spoke aloud under the oppression’s grasp in endless nights,
    When despair rose to heights unknown,
    And fragile desires trembled in the invisible void,
    The weight of loss bore down, relentless, keen,
    As the oblivion feasted on the faint heart’s prayer.

    In that desolate realm where no light could endure,
    And where silence was torn by unheard wails,
    Weary hearts, caught in iron chains,
    Clung to fragments of memories grown pale.

    The skies collapsed like a suffocating veil,
    Where chimaeras, once shining, dissolved to dust and ash,
    And all that remained was a forlorn lament,
    As the abyss of oppression drew down in a final crash.

    The chasm of illusions swallowed every expectation,
    Leaving but a decayed vestige of misery and distress.
    Every gleam of promise faded into hollow whispers of betrayal,
    While enchanting raindrops soaked every dream in a sorrowful mire.

    In the shadows, spells enticed those solitary dreamers into fractured and senseless ravines of despair,
    Trapping them for eternity.
    Darkness claimed the last faint gleam,
    And despair surged forth like a relentless stream.

    In this realm of night, the shadows reigned supreme,
    Binding dreams in chains, silencing the soul’s scream.
    The abyss of oppression annihilated every mirth and delight, beauty and magnificence,
    Leaving a kingdom of chaos and insignificance.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Invisible Sparkle

    The Invisible Sparkle

    The invisible sparkle in a world that doesn’t exist yet,
    Like a flower suffocated by the gelid winter snow,
    Struggling cries of a dream forever stilled, unmet,
    Trapped in shadows where the winds won’t blow.

    A sigh drifted in the void’s hollow sound,
    A glimmer of the sublime that was never born,
    Silence shattered what’s yet to be found,
    A seed of light faded into the abyss, torn.

    A fleeting pulse from a heart too broken to repair,
    A thread of hope tangled in despair,
    Draped in the veil of the endless night’s hold,
    Fading into nothing, lost to the aether.

    In this pointless realm where illusions had become a reality,
    Unseen suns refused to rise or fall,
    A phantom dream trapped in twilight’s will,
    Its presence was known, yet not at all.

    For what existed without a trace,
    What flickers yet was never there,
    Could time revive its fleeting grace,
    Or would it die in hollow air?

    The flower crushed beneath frozen skies,
    Yearning for a spring that would never come,
    A sparkle dimmed in eternal disguise,
    The silent whisper of a life undone.

    Its scent forgotten, its petals closed,
    In a garden where nothing dared to bloom,
    A magic world where the future’s doors were forever closed,
    And the past lay buried in the gloom.

    The invisible sparkle flickered no more,
    A light that faded into the unmarked night,
    Lost in the pages of an unwritten lore,
    A shadow swallowed by eternal delight.

    The frozen winds still howled their song,
    In a dwelling that never came to be,
    And in the silence, lost all along,
    The invisible sparkle faded to memory.

    In the void of a forgotten dream,
    Where the eternity itself unravelled slowly,
    Dreams and fantasies vanished in flow,
    But only shadows knew their woe.

    The invisible sparkle, long since gone,
    Left no mark, no trace, no song.
    In stillness, it forever lies,
    A ghost beneath the unseen skies.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah