Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: inner abyss

  • Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among heartbeats and sighs, I passed my long summer nights, while dew from the flowers fell on my skin. Purity and passion blended, enticing me to the garden of the forbidden desires.

    The wind carried the exquisite poison of night flowers to my lips, awakening my body. I was mesmerised and enchanted with the phantom beauty of my own descent.

    I dreamed of marvellous roses sumptuously evoking delight and bliss. I grabbed and bit the fruits of frenzy and turmoil ready to satisfy my desire.

    Desire and covetousness were my startling cravings, which made my heart beat again and again like a source of power. I was dominated by my passions that monopolised all my attention.

    I fell into the trap of my mistakes and cried out all my pangs as if my teardrops could have erased all that dismay. I kept a multitude of longings in my secret treasure chest, which I sealed with tears and trepidation.

    A gloomy cloud of fear and disillusion enveloped me threateningly, deterring me from staring at the luminaries shining bright in the dark blue firmament.

    I was conquered like prey by wicked impulses, which were conducting me to the brink of uproar. I couldn’t find peace anymore in my slumber since evil nightmares were keeping me eternally awake.

    Demise would have been the portal of my liberation, and instead, I was playing with ghosts and magical roses. I didn’t want to accept the truth, I desired to pretend that everything was perfectly terrible.

    The silver moon gleamed upon me pouring its ethereal light over my garden of woe and sorrow. And among heartbeats and sighs, I remained silent and listened to the whispers of the nocturnal breeze.

    I could scent the taste of toxic magic on my red lips. I felt a burden in my chest burning like an everlasting flame. I wished fervently to be a free butterfly, flying over enchanted flowers. I wished intensely to be a free bird, soaring high amidst clouds and stars.

    A spell was cast over me, binding my heart to invisible phantoms. Desires had ensnared me in their vicious frolic, melting my heart into a lake of fire and ice. Therefore, I became a creature of that realm of shadows and darkness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sweet And Mournful Vexations

    Sweet And Mournful Vexations

    Sweet and mournful vexations fell all over me like a midsummer rain shower, while I was enticed frantically by my nocturnal demons with shallow folly. All alone I tried to disentangle myself from those chains of obsession.

    I could barely breathe and I wasn’t able to remember my name at all. So reserved and bashful as I was born, I couldn’t avoid wandering nowhere to find myself and the arcane secret locked by my fate.

    I had wished for myself a different destiny that would have granted me solace and delights. No peace remained in my treasure chest but only the dust of decay and a sparkle of dismay.

    A deafening silence claimed that I was insolent for my fearless dreams. I missed the calm nights at the candlelight, soothed by the sound of lullabies and ocean storms.

    I envisioned the image of spectres each time I approached the silver surface of a broken mirror. A feverish delirium forced me to succumb to the darkness of the night.

    I might have been a withered flower. I might have been a living creature. The gelid arrows of the frosty wind penetrated my heart that was burning like an everlasting flame. So frail I felt I could crumble like a crystal flower under the influence of devastation.

    Maybe the abyss of descent had swallowed me like a wild monster from the underworld. Chaos bound me like a velvet veil fallen from the gloomy sky, while shadows hushed me as if I were on the brink of disclosing their enigmas.

    Sweet and mournful vexations lulled me to my decay, engraving a mysterious elegy on every stone of my dungeon. A magnificent melancholy consoled me now that I was nothing but just the spoil of myself.

    I had created my own doom by means of my own nightmares. Was I the real and only creator of my own oblivion? That question echoed in my head forever like a haunting dream. I couldn’t even surprise myself anymore.

    So greatly lured was I, drawn into the maze of my own turmoil, where each image promised ecstasy exclusively, and instead offered me only exquisite torments. So much intertwined I was in the spiderweb of my fears that I could not liberate myself.

    Devoured by my own passions and obsessions, I entered the labyrinth of sweet and mournful vexations, which clung to my very heart like insidious ivy. Meanwhile, the imperceptible sound of the night surrounded me like a mystic mist. And therein I remained like a frozen butterfly in a garden of shimmering glaze.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Seeking Dreams

    Seeking Dreams

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a winter night with no stars but only a mystical fog and gloomy clouds. Not even a bird was flying in the leaden and dark sky. Only the clouds were gazing at me like curious observers, and the wind whispered legends of despair to me.

    I signed and dreamed of ocean floors paved with diamonds and stars. I fantasised about mermaids lost in submerged islands, and snow-capped waterfalls on remote cliffs. Time faded away when I was dreaming. Not even the impetuous cold rain could distract me from my nightdreaming.

    Foolishness never abandoned me, while I was consumed by my passionate longings, which brought me to the edge of the universe. Wonderful darkness enticed me, and I summoned my own demons and spirits, surrounded by exquisite midnight flowers.

    Folly and wisdom accompanied me in my everlasting journey to a netherworld descent. Though I have visited heavens and abysses, boundless valleys and inaccessible mountains, I have always ended up at the very same point of origin, namely my archaic abyss of despair.

    Seeking dreams in nowhere on a frosty night with no glimmering lights but only a ghostly haze and dismal shadows. No living creature crept close to me, but only wraiths and eerie ghouls, which kept following me in every abode and realm I dwelled in.

    I foresaw my decay and the obliteration of all my dreams that I had sought for so long in vain. Drowning in the emptiness and losing my heart, became a nightmare of mine under the shape of an incubus visiting my slumber. Arcane verses, evoking a magic spell, were engraved on my soul.

    Scarlet flowers adorned my hair that flowed on my face, while my tears of sorrow soaked the frozen soil. Nightmares and thorns poisoned my never-ending nights, tainting the sky with chaos. Numbed and mesmerised by swirling griefs that never hesitated to tarnish my keenness, I softly succumbed to my unavoidable demise.

    While seeking dreams, I harboured enemies in my soul, fooling myself with obsessions that left indelible marks in my senses. I had to renounce being myself and let the darkness swallow all my desires. In a realm of liminality, I was cast away and compelled to endure agony.

    Abandoned in my dismay, I found no solace. I metamorphosed into sorrow. I became what I had feared the most, the very thing that had damaged my heart. I ended up in loneliness and turmoil, seeing my own reflection staring back at me in fractured and disfigured mirrors.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Shadow Of Decay

    The Shadow Of Decay

    The shadow of decay was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, pulling every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure out of my heart. It was a distorted mirror reflecting my anguish and fears, filling my chamber with scarlet red incense, oppressing and stifling me, and preventing me from seeing my own portrait.

    I lived this overwhelming and dreadful pseudo‑reality in constant anguish, no longer understanding whether it was truth, a surreal fantasy, or the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those grievous candles that enflamed my yearnings every time I approached them.

    The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to lament and weep my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the mysterious world of immortality to which, apparently, I now belonged.

    Amid dust and teardrops, I was relegated like an evanescent creature, living on the faint light of garnet candles, and thick, resinous incense smoke that enveloped me in its sacred, suffocating haze. Even the stars refused to shine into my little vault, where my pierced heart lay clutched by the crumbling walls like a macabre relic on display.

    I was no longer able to harbour a desire or hope for an existence made of enchanted flowers and love spells. I had lost in the abyss of obliteration everything I had desired, and all that I had vainly pursued in my tragic life had vanished, offering me just a bleak and mortifying dungeon for my soul.

    And thus I vanished into a menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and insensible rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of decay, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long forgotten, which, despite everything, had embraced me entirely and inescapably.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles Of Sadness

    Sparkles of sadness manifested in the gloomy forest of my dreams. Lulled by a torpor of defeat and annihilation, I attempted to traverse a place unknown to me, with astonishment and wonder, yet, at the same time, with a heart steeped in sadness.

    Although the silver moon illuminated this unknown and dark forest, the further I proceeded, the more it seemed that I was losing myself in oblivion and in the abyss of my fears and uncertainties, for it was there that I was rooted; my heart was torn by a sense of suspension into the void.

    Indeed, I was overwhelmed by my nightmares, which slowly revealed themselves in the shapes of ghosts and wraiths, as I proceeded along my uncertain path without a clear destination. My gentle pains, which scourged my heart and disturbed my mind, rendered me powerless in the face of such apparitions.

    Even unwillingly, I had fallen victim to a vicious and infamous game of which I was not the author. And I could not even, powerless as I was, awaken from that fatal torpor, which was defeating me every night, as well as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to obliterate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of those circumstances of affliction and decay. My heart was lacerated and it shed all my hopes like a raging cascade.

    Weeping and pain were the only faithful companions that followed me everywhere. In this realm of sepulchral silence and the sighs of souls that could find no peace, I remained still, awaiting my metamorphosis.

    Ghostly and drowsy, I could no longer proceed and I fell beneath the weight of my own anguish, as if it were made of gigantic, menacing clouds bearing down upon me. And thus I vanished, leaving nothing but a trail of sparkles of sadness and scarlet petals, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • My Delight Was My Demise

    My Delight Was My Demise

    My delight was my demise. My desires, so bitter and dark, gripped my heart, conquering it with all their vehemence, and all my most secret desires crumbled like shards of crystal upon the frozen, sorrowful ground.

    Alas, misery had granted me a fate in which I was a sacrificial prey. And yes, I had no escape from my cruel destiny. However much I loved the fondness and delight of a chimerical existence made of dreams and delicate flowers.

    Reneged by mortals and secluded within my dark and comfortless vault, I sought refuge in my fantasy, while my withered soul was doused in sorrow. I strove to forget all my most hidden and forbidden desires, but their memories left an imprint on my heart.

    I wept and shed as many tears as there were saline water drops in the infinite ocean that stretched far away from me, since I was not granted the privilege of beholding it from my dark refuge, nor was I allowed to see the stars.

    A lugubrious existence had become my fatal destiny. My only companions were my perpetual candles, which illuminated my gloomy chamber, merely to remind me of my anguish, my dismay, and my despondency.

    Ghosts of the past spied on me, casting shadows upon the ancient walls, dilapidated by the storms. The echo of my sighs reached the stars, which gazed at me with cynicism and indifference, as if I were unworthy of their devotion, while dark and menacing clouds reminded me of my defeat.

    While scattered feelings bounced within my torn and apathetic heart, menacing shadows embodied my fears and my most obscure secrets, which I would never have been able to reveal to any soul.

    Therefore, between surrender and fatal torpor, I lay inert, as though I were a marble statue. In all my fragility and in all my vulnerability, I knew that what awaited me was nothing but the doom of my heart, my essence, my very self. A total obliteration and oblivion were my final destination.
    Elisabetta Esther

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