Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: mystical night

  • Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among Heartbeats And Sighs

    Among heartbeats and sighs, I passed my long summer nights, while dew from the flowers wetted my skin. Purity and lust blended, luring me to the garden of the forbidden desires.

    The wind carried the exquisite poison of my 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 stroking my body, leaving me in ecstatic bliss. I grabbed and bit the fruits of delirium and madness ready to satisfy my greed.

    Desire and avarice 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 blood.

    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 my most wicked impulses, which were conducting me to the brink of madness. I couldn’t find peace anymore in my slumber since evil ghouls 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 poison and blood 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 Curses

    Sweet And Mournful Curses

    Sweet and mournful curses 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 defending silence claimed that I was insolent for my fearless dreams. I missed the calm nights at the candlelight soothed by the sound of lullabies of ocean storms.

    I envisioned the image of skeletons 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 dead. I might have been alive. 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 curses lulled me to death, engraving my epitaph 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 only ecstasy and instead offered me only exquisite torment. So much intertwined I was in the spiderweb of my fears that I could liberate myself.

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

  • The Doomed Spell

    The Doomed Spell

    The doomed spell of the underworld was cast on me
    While I was wandering in my silent ways on a summer night
    Resentment and fear were far from me but the danger of death was following me
    Like an ominous shadow behind me
    Ready to decide when my end was going to happen

    And suddenly, like a storm in a clear sky, horror manifested itself before me.
    And, to all my fears, a bewitched and gigantic carriage, guided by a demon who struck blows upon his demonic horse with sharp teeth and a spectral gaze,
    a carriage populated by spectres, spirits and skeletons, all assembled as in a gathering.

    My long dress became soaked with mud and earth as I crossed this road of disgrace and death.
    And behold, the spectral coachman with his evil gaze headed directly towards my person to put an end to my existence, unleashing all his strength and aggressiveness and violence against me, and I almost perished — death brushed me, if it hadn’t been for a miraculous touch that diverted my figure from such horror.

    Shaken and bewildered, I relived the miracle of life, of rebirth, and it was there, in that fleeting and transient instant, that I was born again, assuming a new identity, even if my appearance had not quite changed — but my heart had become of bronze, copper and silver.

    The moon shone high in the night of storm and serenity, and the echo of my horror and of my spasms of fear and distress spread through all the firmament, making the stars hear my tale of misery and miracle.

    The doomed spell ruled over my mad destiny and had crumbled like a kind of majestic castle.
    It is splendid, but within it, my gloomy, shadowy soul was falling to pieces.
    And, filled with sorrows more than joys, it was crumbling apart under the weight of life — and of that night of nightmares and atrocities.
    Elisabetta

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