Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: lost souls

  • 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

  • The Mirror Spell

    The Mirror Spell

    The mirror spell was cast in a time long past,
    When the shadows were more sombre,
    And no light was reflected by that polished glass with worn edges,
    In a realm where dreams and desires were both shattered and torn.

    The mirror held a mystic snare,
    Since an ancient curse was embedded underneath;
    Its countenance became frozen as the night descended,
    Concealing tales of malcontent and sorrow.

    None could ever have touched it,
    A frail and lost vestige of the past.
    No one knew the foolish tale of this magic mirror,
    A mirror that, for every glance, granted but a glimpse of dread,
    Revealing only truths that none could bear.

    Withered hopes and desolate hearts laid bare in that realm of death,
    Each crack was a line of sorrow’s trace,
    Revealing each distorted dream in a haunting silence.
    Each night, it summoned a hollow tone,
    Luring the lost to claim its own;

    In haunted halls, where echoes roamed like wild animals,
    The mirror enticed the lost dreamers,
    Making them drunk on dreams, their fleeting light,
    Swallowed by chasms as dark as night;
    Its silent curse, a binding thread,
    To weave the hearts of the forgotten dead.

    In this fatal frolic of dreams and oblivion,
    Those who dared to peer inside,
    Were drawn to an abyss none could disguise;
    Till flesh and spirit, thin and worn,
    Became as pale as twilight morn.

    The mirror lingered in that desolate dwelling,
    A relic untouched by time,
    Luring those who sought reasons that would forever elude them.
    Veiled in glooms, it became a gateway,
    Pulling ghosts into a realm where whispers of despair merged with the lingering scent of dust and decay.

    Each sigh, a lullaby for the forlorn, coaxed the foolish and fearless alike until consumed by the darkness.
    They hovered beyond the reach of dawn,
    Into the infinite void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Shadows of the Eternal Night

    Shadows of the Eternal Night

    Shadows of the eternal night were hiding beyond the darkness,
    Veiled dreams coiling, drifting on winds so cold,
    Lost secrets tangled in webs of sorrowed stillness.

    The stars retired, their light consumed in a dimmed haze,
    Where spectres roamed through time-worn graves,
    And ancient oaths in hollow whispers praised.

    Each flower upon this hexed soil bore tales,
    Of souls long bound to sorrow’s endless plights,
    Where hope decayed, and love’s fair visage paled.

    Soft reveries became just faded vestiges,
    And scepticism obliterated every dream and desire,
    In a realm of brutality where beauty and magnificence were replaced by platitude.

    Beneath the nocturnal veil where promise hovered,
    Resided the sighs of anguish, drawn and lost,
    In silent mourning, under a moonless sky.

    Forgotten rhymes drifted like autumn leaves,
    Their faint sorrows lingered in the void,
    Bound by fate, in nights that never cleaved.

    Ghostly guises disclosed tales upon the mist,
    Of fragile lives now tethered to regret,
    In shadows ruling ominously whenever light and passions desisted.

    Ancient idols crumbled, haunted by decay,
    Their marbled stares held secrets left untold,
    A vigil kept for dawn that slipped away.

    The wind lamented in hollow, cadenced tones,
    Its chilling gusts were a requiem for hope,
    Where life withdrew, and death in darkness honed.

    The trees, with their dreary branches gnarled and bare,
    They were sentinels cast in the eerie twilight gloom,
    Witnesses to pain none could ever repair.

    Beneath the roots weaved webs of betrayal,
    Embracing misery, sealing completely dead vows,
    In earth-bound glooms, cursed and locked within.

    Each stone was engraved with words no vernacular may utter,
    A silent litany for spirits confined,
    By time’s cruel decree, eternally they sought.

    Shadows of the eternal night lingered, ruling among ruins and mournings,
    Where all was torn from life and love,
    And nothing remained bound to light or worlds unseen.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Enchantment

    The Enchantment

    The enchantment, a shadowed spell, had been cast beneath the twilight’s dying sigh,
    Where ancient oaks had swayed in the wind like phantoms of the past.
    A chant had echoed through the tangled woods, its cadence dark and deep,
    Awakening spirits have long forgotten from the caverns where they had slept.

    Amidst the stillness of nightfall, murmurs sighed endlessly,
    As unseen eyes had glowed dimly beneath a starless sky.
    The moon had hung low, a sallow face, pale as winter’s bone,
    Illuminating paths of sorrow where the lost souls had roamed alone.

    A mist had coiled through the midnight, cold fingers tracing near,
    Wrapping around the weary hearts that had beat with ascending fear.
    The trees, like crooked figures, had leaned closer to behold,
    The place where time had dissolved away, and every tale was told.

    At the circle’s heart, an altar had stood, adorned in faded lace,
    And there, a book of fateful words had lain bound in death’s embrace.
    With trembling restlessness, the pages had turned, each verse a dreadful sound,
    As secrets had slipped into the void and spun themselves around.

    The ground had begun to shake as shadows took their form,
    Emerging from the depths below, a writhing, ghastly swarm.
    Their voices had spoken in unison, a harmony of dread,
    Recalling all the lives once lived and all the blood once shed.

    Enchantments had surged through every vein, a venom cold and dark,
    Binding all who had ventured there with no hope of turning back.
    The winds had grown sharp, a biting chill that had pierced the very night,
    And overhead, the idylls had burned with a pale, infernal light.

    The spirits had danced in circles wide; their laughter had echoed grimly,
    A dirge that sang of vanished days and all that might have been.
    The ancient oaks had groaned softly as if burdened by despair,
    Their roots, entwined with cursed soil, had held fast in the bewitched air.

    The enchantment had deepened, drawing close, its tendrils ever tight,
    Until the world had grown distant, fading slowly from all sight.
    In the dark, the voices had faded, the spell complete at last,
    And silence had reigned where shadows had fallen upon the haunted past.

    Thus had lain the woods, forever bound by the magic’s cruel decree,
    A place where none could have ventured forth nor ever truly fled.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and spells coveted in the abyss of shadows where phantoms crept,
    Wandering through a realm half-wept.
    The moon hung low; its face was pale,
    And whispered of a ghostly tale.

    The sky became gloomy, the stars were dim,
    As winds sang out a mournful hymn.
    Every path was lost in endless nights,
    Beneath a sky that held no light.

    Through twisted woods, the wanderers found a gate,
    Its iron bars were wrought with fate.
    A voice called out, both near and far,
    Like echoes from a fallen star.

    “Step forth,” it said, “into the dream,
    Where silence reigns and shadows gleam.”
    Those who crossed the threshold felt the spell,
    A touch of darkness known too well.

    The world within was strange and wild,
    Where reason’s grip was swiftly beguiled.
    The ground was ash, the trees were bone,
    Their branches cracked in a sorrowful tone.

    A figure stood with eyes like fire,
    A sorceress of dark desire.
    She raised her hand, the spell was cast,
    And time itself could not hold fast.

    The dreamers drifted then, their senses blurred,
    In realms where whispered words were heard.
    Each secret spoke of death’s embrace,
    Of haunted dreams and hollow grace.

    The stars fell down like frozen tears,
    Unveiling long-forgotten fears.
    Intense was the feeling of the pull of ancient woe,
    Beneath the weight of night’s cold glow.

    The sorceress turned, her gaze met the others,
    A silent bond both fierce and delicate like smothers.
    She beckoned close, her fingers curled,
    And swirled those unfortunates through her shadowed world.

    A beginning of a frantic dance upon a sea of mist,
    Where every wing gust felt like a tryst,
    With darkness draped in velvet black,
    And the time that twisted, bent, and cracked.

    The spell then broke; the dream grew thin,
    Those delusionals found themselves where they’d once been.
    The gate was gone, the night was still,
    But in every heart, there lingered a chill.

    For though every heart left that cursed realm,
    Its shadows clung; they overwhelmed.
    And in every soul, dreams and spells were bound,
    Whispered secrets lost, never to be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful dreams in darkness brewed,
    The world outside in silence stewed.
    A chill hung thick as whispers weaved,
    Through hollow halls, where none believed.

    A castle loomed, its walls decayed,
    Where time had stopped and light delayed.
    Through labyrinths that none had known,
    They wandered there, each one alone.

    Figures rose from meadows like thorns,
    With eyes that bled and voices steeped,
    In sorrows long since left unsaid,
    Now, pulling dreamers to the dead.

    Dreadful dreams, where shadows crept,
    Beneath their lids, no restful sleep.
    The night grew cold, the visions swayed,
    In twisted forms, the mind was betrayed.

    No way to flee, no path to run,
    For night devoured every sun.
    The walls grew impenetrable, the air was poison,
    And trapped everyone in an endless prison.

    In the silence, whispers of fright,
    Haunted souls wander, lost from sight.
    Each gust a toil, each step a plight,
    As darkness consumed every fading light.

    Dreadful dreams, where mirrors cracked,
    And whispers from the void slammed.
    A thousand clouds lost in space,
    All seeking what they couldn’t chase.

    Souls entwined with endless fear,
    Never to wake, forever near.
    The moon, once full, was now cracked and pale,
    Its silver light began to fail.

    And as the fading shades crept,
    The dreamers into silence wept.
    The night consumed all hopes and screams,
    And left them bound to dreadful dreams.

    Dreadful dreams wandered like shades of night,
    Whispered softly beneath dark skies.
    Each dwelling became a fearsome sight,
    As shadows moved in the dimming light.

    Desires entwined with seizing dread,
    Wandering everywhere, but hope had fled.
    Each secret carried tales of woe,
    As spectres flickered, fast and slow.

    In the gloom, no spark remained,
    No bright memory could have been preserved.
    The dreamers sought the light once more,
    But shadows beckoned from the shore.

    Dreadful dreams chased every fleeting glow,
    Finding themselves in depths below.
    With every instant, the darkness grew,
    A truth obscured, a world askew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Last Midnight

    The Last Midnight

    The last midnight had drawn near,
    Its shadow was cold and sharp with fear.
    The wind, once howling, had stilled to nought,
    As darkness claimed the light, it sought.

    The last midnight hung heavy in the air,
    A curse, a promise, a final snare.
    No stars had pierced the sky that night,
    Only endless blackness in its fading light.

    They had waited in the decaying halls,
    Where silence seeped through fractured walls.
    The last midnight loomed with fate’s cold hand,
    A doom too close to understand.

    Eyes had watched the hands tick slowly,
    As if time itself feared the blow.
    For the last midnight was nearly here,
    Bringing with it dread and fear.

    The air had thickened, dense and still,
    As shadows danced with a cruel will.
    The moments passed like final breaths,
    Each one was steeped in the scent of death.

    The last midnight struck its hollow tone,
    And from the void, no mercy was shown.
    A bell that tolled from the depths of night,
    Had sealed the fate with its final bite.

    The heart had ceased, the soul withdrew,
    As darkness deepened and shadows grew.
    No solace came, no saving hand,
    For the days had met their cursed end.

    The last midnight had claimed its due,
    The curse fulfilled, the terror true.
    The wind outside resumed its cry,
    As the soul left with a whispered sigh.

    The mansion had stood in endless gloom,
    Each corner was steeped in haunted doom.
    The last midnight lingered on the walls,
    Echoing still through empty halls.

    And when the final hour passed,
    It left behind a vast silence.
    No dawn would rise, no morning bright,
    Only the void of endless night.

    The last midnight was all that stayed,
    A memory lost in darkness’ shade.
    No living soul to mourn, to weep,
    For all had drifted into sleep.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Infinite Darkness

    The Infinite Darkness

    The infinite darkness crept over the world,
    A veil so impenetrable, no light unfurled,
    In shadows profound, where silence reigned,
    Only specs of sorrow faintly remained.
    The moon, once bright, was now cast in gloom,
    Surrendering its glow to the infinite tomb.

    Beneath the heavens, void and stark,
    A restless whisper clung to the dark,
    Forgotten dreams were laid to waste,
    Swallowed whole with ungodly haste.
    The infinite darkness, cold and still,
    Devoured the soul, crushed the will.

    No star remained in the desolate sky,
    Only the wind’s morbid sigh,
    Through crumbled towers and withered trees,
    A graveyard of lost, forlorn pleas.
    The infinite darkness shrouded all,
    A bleak abyss without recall.

    The hour was late, the world grew numb,
    To the mournful beat of a ghostly drum.
    Voices long buried rose once more,
    Whispers of anguish at death’s door.
    The infinite darkness spread its reign,
    Boundless, eternal, all in vain.

    It claimed the hearts of those who wept,
    It haunted the dreams of those who slept.
    In every crevice, every space,
    It loomed like a spectre, leaving no trace
    Of the world that was, the days of light,
    All faded now in endless night.

    The infinite darkness fed on despair,
    Its breath a chill, an empty stare,
    It pulled the living toward the grave,
    For none, not one, could hope to be saved.
    In its embrace, no warmth remained,
    Only the chill of shadows, unrestrained.

    In the distance, a bell did toll,
    A knell for every lost soul.
    The infinite darkness had won its war,
    Leaving behind an open scar
    Upon the earth, upon the sky,
    A place where even death could die.

    The infinite darkness closed its grip,
    Tight as a chain, cold as a crypt.
    And in that void, so vast, so stark,
    Nothing was left but an endless dark.
    The infinite darkness, now complete,
    Bore the silence of final defeat.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Down into the Abyss of Despair

    Down into the Abyss of Despair

    Down into the abyss of despair,
    Where shadows coiled and dreams lay bare,
    Dreamers ventured forth through endless gloom,
    Into the depths of a sorrowed tomb.

    The void stretched wide, an endless chasm,
    Where echoes lost their haunting spasm.
    The light of hope had long since died,
    And darkness reigned where fears had cried.

    In that abyss, silent and deep,
    Restless souls were condemned to weep.
    The weight of sorrow, heavy and cold,
    Wrapped tightly around hearts grown old.

    Murmurs drifted on the stagnant air,
    Of forgotten souls imprisoned there.
    Their cries were muffled, swallowed by night,
    Engulfed in a relentless, eternal blight.

    The walls, etched with memories of pain,
    Glimmered faintly in the dark domain.
    Each step descended further down,
    Away from the crown, far from renown.

    Time dissolved within that spectral place,
    Where grief and anguish left their trace.
    The abyss was a cruel and endless snare,
    Trapping souls in its despairing lair.

    No escape was found from this mournful plight,
    In the depths of unending night.
    The heart became a hollow shell,
    Lost in the chasm where shadows dwell.

    Hope, once bright, had turned to dust,
    Consumed by the abyss’s cruel thrust.
    Every moment stretched to infinity,
    As shadows mocked with bleak divinity.

    Drawn into the void without a will,
    A witness to its cold, dreadful chill.
    The abyss claimed its spectral fare,
    Leaving all lost in its endless snare.

    The abyss devoured every lingering plea,
    Its grip was relentless, with no chance to flee.
    Shadows morphed into a bleak parade,
    As hope succumbed to the eternal shade.

    The weight of despair, an unyielding chain,
    Bound souls tight in a web of pain.
    In the abyss, nothing remained,
    Save the endless sorrow that stained.

    In that abyss, despair lay bare,
    A dark testament to anguish and care.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Forgotten Asylum

    The Forgotten Asylum

    The forgotten asylum hid in the valley of shadows, where echoes died,
    Its walls, crumbled and weary, were veiled by the mist where time had lied.
    Long corridors, wrapped in darkness, whispered with dread,
    A realm where the ghosts of mad and tortured, in their sorrow, bled.

    The halls had witnessed their last cries, their final pleas for release,
    Now silent except for the ghostly echoes of their inner disease.
    Iron gates, once symbols of imprisonment, now clanged with sorrowful wails,
    A haunting symphony of voices lost, drifting through the desolate trails.

    Broken beds, once resting places for tortured minds, now lay cold and still,
    Their occupants were gone, leaving only the echoes of their silent shrill.
    In the shrouded darkness of their final night, where daylight was barred,
    Their minds remained forever trapped, their spirits scarred.

    The night they came with lanterns dim, searching for what had been lost,
    Their steps disturbed the ancient dust, waking shadows at a cost.
    Each room they entered spoke of despair, each corner a sorrowful tale,
    Of spirits bound to this cursed place, their cries eternally frail.

    The night was crowded with eerie sighs as the moonlight cast its mournful beams,
    Dancing on hollowed eyes that stared, forever trapped in a spectral nightmare.
    The forgotten asylum was now a crypt of everlasting gloom,
    Where fear and sorrow merged in perpetual doom.

    Time itself seemed to decay within those forsaken walls,
    As the forgotten asylum’s curse wove its web through its crumbling halls.
    Tales of madness dwelled, clinging to the air’s chilled gust,
    A monument to agony, where echoes sought release from their endless death.

    Desolation seeped through the walls, and silence bore the burden of untold grief.
    As shadows stretched and sighed, embracing the forsaken lament.
    Silent screams of lost souls echoed endlessly through the abyss of darkness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

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