Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: mortality

  • The Shadow Of Death

    The Shadow Of Death

    The shadow of death was behind me, perpetually, like a faithful lover, tearing from my heart every hope of being loved and cherished as a unique treasure. It was a distorted mirror that reflected my anguish and my fears. It filled my cell with scarlet red incense, which constantly suffocated me, stifling me and preventing me from seeing my own image.

    I lived this suffocating and abominable pseudo‑reality in constant terror, no longer understanding whether it was real or a surreal fantasy, the product of my hallucinations. I perceived those distressing candles that burned me alive every time I approached their presence.

    The cold rock walls were so thick that, however much I strove to cry out and scream my pain, no one could ever hear it—no mortal and no creature from the subterranean world of the afterlife to which, apparently, I now belonged.

    Amid dust and drops of my blood, I was relegated like a lifeless creature, feeding on the faint light of the blood‑red candles, and that suffocating incense that penetrated every part of my body. Even the stars refused to cast light into that narrow cell, where my pierced heart had been nailed to a dilapidated wall as if it were a souvenir on display.

    I no longer had the capacity to harbour a desire or to hope for an existence wrapped in enchanted flowers and love spells. Everything I had dreamed of I had lost in the abyss of obliteration, and all that I had vainly pursued in my miserable existence had vanished, having only materialised into a bleak and mortifying prison for my soul.

    And thus I vanished into that menacing and omnipresent cloud that loomed over me. Even the decrepit walls, made of cold and indifferent rock, had no tears to shed for my bitter demise. I myself had become the shadow of death, no longer a mortal being but a creature of that world I had so long shunned, which, despite everything, had devoured 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 deadly torpor, which was destroying me every night, as the wind consumes even the most unyielding rock.

    However much I struggled to oppose the oblivion that sought to annihilate me and erase my name, I could find no hold, no aid that might pull me out of that condition of misery and decay. My heart was lacerated and bled all my hopes like a raging cascade.

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

    Bloodless, exhausted, 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 blood, as if I had never been born, as if no one had ever known that I had existed.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Teardrops Of Blood

    Teardrops Of Blood

    Teardrops of blood descended on my cheeks like timid waterfalls
    While the cold freeze of a winter night stroked me
    A memento of my mortality and fragility
    Like dancing leaves falling from trees under the influence of an extravagant wind

    Since the day my evil fate threw me into a world of misery
    I escaped from reality to find myself in the realm of bizarre dreams and odd nightmares
    I had found myself living in a new world
    A place of ghostly apparitions and utopias

    Burning flowers became sparkling torches, guiding me in my journey
    In this labyrinth of darkness, I felt so overwhelmed that I could feel the scent of death
    The demise was waiting for me as if I couldn’t commit any mistake
    And I had to drink from the cup of poison that the oblivion offered me

    I became intoxicated by illusions and deceptions
    I started to believe every lie whispered to my heart
    And I bled all my soul out, crying teardrops of blood
    Random thoughts captured my mind, and it was like I was the captive of my own insanity

    I became the representation of sorrow and decay
    Not alive anymore, I was a wanderer of the underworld
    I didn’t belong anymore to the material reality
    I was an ethereal spirit of the darkness

    I became my own shadow and guide on an unknown route
    Not even the stars or the moon were there to lead the way for me
    I started to mourn myself because I knew my fate was doomed
    And death was there to wait for me

    In solitude and anguish, my teardrops of blood were my only comfort
    Poisoned and dazzled as I was, there was no resolution to my senseless disorder
    Madness had me as a captive in its cursed dungeon
    Surrounded by the skulls of those who perished from folly and frenzy.
    Elisabetta

  • The Ghost of Death

    The Ghost of Death

    The ghost of death had lingered near,
    A shadow cast in whispered fear.
    In silent rooms where memories lay,
    It watched as life slipped slowly away.

    It moved like mist, so cold, so pale,
    Through empty halls, a mournful wail.
    With each breath, the living took in fright,
    Echoed through the deepening night.

    The ghost had beckoned with hollow eyes,
    Inviting souls to bid their goodbyes.
    A figure cloaked in sorrow’s shroud,
    It walked among the restless crowd.

    A desperate heart had sensed its call,
    Feeling the weight of the final fall.
    In darkened corners, whispers grew,
    Of destinies sealed, of fates, they knew.

    When face to face, the ghost did smile,
    An eerie calm that stretched a mile.
    No threat it posed, no anger burned,
    Just a quiet truth that must be learned.

    The ghost of death, in silence, spoke,
    Of lives once bright, now just a cloak.
    It showed the beauty in the decay,
    And how each end gave birth today.

    The final breath was not the end,
    But a turning point, a chance to mend.
    In acceptance, there lay a grace,
    As life transformed, it embraced its place.

    The ghost receded, its duty done,
    Leaving behind what must be spun.
    In the quiet, the living sighed,
    Knowing well, they’d never indeed died.

    For life’s a cycle, a gentle sweep,
    Where shadows linger but do not keep.
    And in that space where fears once crept,
    The ghost of death watched over and wept.

    In twilight’s grasp, where echoes fade,
    The ghost of death, a silent blade.
    It whispered softly of lives once bright,
    Of dreams lost to the endless night.

    However, within its gaze, a flicker shone,
    A reminder that love could not be gone.
    For every soul, though bound to part,
    Leaves a legacy within the heart.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss of Death

    The Abyss of Death

    The Abyss of Death
    by Esther Elizabeth Racah

    Then came the abyss of death, deep and wide,
    Where all must fall, where none could hide.
    The abyss of death, it called to stars,
    A silent plea, eternally.
    In that endless chasm, the longing was laid to sleep.
    The void embraced lost regret,
    And whispered, “Here, soon forget.”

    The cold was vast, the dark complete,
    And close behind, it hurt so endearing.
    For death, it took it all,
    Secret longings for lost hopes fell.
    The void consumed what life remained,
    And left behind the husks of pain.
    A hollow shell of what was,
    Now drifting in eternity.

    Finally, in that dark, quiet peace,
    A welcome end, a soft release.
    The chains of life that bound the soul,
    Were broken as control was lost.
    And though the blackness held tight,
    There was no fear; no light was seen.
    For, in the end, all must face,
    The emptiness of death’s embrace.

    The abyss keeps waiting for every heart,
    To draw in, to tear apart.
    What once was love, or hope, or fear,
    It was swallowed by the depths so near.
    No longer was there a yearning to see,
    For death has stolen that away.
    And in the abyss of death, wide and vast,
    Peace and rest were finally found.

    In that abyss, where none return,
    The fires of life no longer burn.
    All that was, now shadows thin,
    A spectre lost in an endless spin.
    Memories that once were clear,
    Are fading echoes, far from here.
    The void cradled every thought,
    Until there was no more to be sought.

    And so it sailed, no longer bound,
    By mortal coils or earthly sound.
    No time, no space, no fear, no care,
    Just an endless night, just empty air.
    What lay beyond was not known,
    For in this abysm, growth ceased.
    The abyss of death claimed the final breath,
    And there, the stillness of the end was found.

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.