The Queen of Darkness lay on a bed made of dust of decay and fragments of dreams she had lost in the abyss of oblivion. Cast away from the ominous shadows of despair the moon manifested dismay hiding behind stormy clouds. While the stars glowed in vain, the feverish night captured their starlight. The creatures of every enchanted forest in the realm of dreams whispered hymns belonging to secret rituals. The nocturnal rain caressed the garden of sighs where the Queen of Darkness kept her most secret and vulnerable treasures, invisible to mortal sight. Whenever the eternal night granted a nightmarish desire to the Queen of Darkness, flowers cried shining pearls that she was preserving in a secret treasure chest underneath her mysterious garden. Wonders and marvels blossomed like precious blossoms in that splendid mesmerising realm whose inhabitants were creatures of the infinite obscurity. Elyse, the Queen of Darkness, spent entire nights reclusive in her fantastic castle, inhabited by spirits and ghosts from the Otherworld, who guided her through intricate quests of witchcraft and magic spells. Stardust and gloominess adorned the palace constantly illuminated by perpetual candles although darkness reigned all over the kingdom. The constant search for perfection fell into a snare in the instant Elyse made the acquaintance of the loss of all her treasures, which vanished into the emptiness. The despair and dismay captured her heart and she shed a flood of tears in the face of such a ghastly surprise. Moreover, the power of the Queen of Darkness became weaker and weaker, as if all the bad memories had taken over at that precise moment when Elyse had lost her hidden gems. What the fantastical fate of this fairy of the night might hold in store was largely unknown, yet the kingdom grew ever darker and more silent. The freezing winter had taken hold of this entire world of dreams and nightmares, and—alas—Elyse remained trapped in her castle, which was by then made of ice and thorny brambles. In that magical world, time no longer existed, and the only season was the freezing winter that had stolen away every trace of delights and sighs of joy. The night was there, watching, with the stars and the moon hiding behind an immensity of threatening clouds. Elyse, the Queen of Darkness, had also vanished, just as all her treasures and the flowers of her enchanted garden had disappeared. Everything seemed like chaos, and flowers of cold stone had sprung up everywhere in the kingdom. There was no end nor beginning now that the eternal oblivion had taken control of everything and nothing in the same way. And so it was that the legend of the Queen of Darkness became a phantasmagorical chimaera.
Elisabetta Esther
Tag: mystical writing
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The Queen Of Darkness
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Undisclosed Secrets
Undisclosed secrets were kept inside antique grimoires like precious jewels well preserved in inaccessible treasure chests. While I was insensitive to the gripping cold wind of the night surrounding me, I fell into a state of torpor maintaining an absolute stillness. Although I had no particular attitude of letting events overwhelm me, I could not resist the escalation of events my fate decided to divulge to me. Memories drifted slowly through my mind, weighing down my heart like burdens too heavy to bear. That excruciating pain that tormented the deepest recesses of my heart had never left me alone, not even during the deepest sleep. And it was precisely in the deepest darkness that I rediscovered my secret refuge of peace and solitude. No mortal who happened upon those enchanting books would have been able to find—let alone decipher—the undisclosed secrets I myself had inscribed in my magical grimoires. Night became eternal, and I had become a creature of darkness, shunning the prying eyes of humankind, with whom I no longer had any connection. Silently, I listened to the melody of the stars gleaming in the gloomy sky like everlasting flames. The sound of faraway bells evoked spirits that seemed like the shadows of my fears, which had not yet dissolved into nothingness. The anguish I felt plunged me into an ocean of unease and a peculiar kind of mourning that deprived me of all my desires. Those undisclosed secrets I tried to preserve were no longer where I had placed them in the form of arcane symbols; in fact, my grimoires had become blank-page books immersed in the emptiness of oblivion. My memories faded away afterwards as if I were a creature with no past, living in a wintry realm where time had been obliterated. Regrets and disappointments turned my heart to stone, and nothing could touch my sensitive inner self anymore—not even the bitter, permanent loss of my most cherished undisclosed secrets.
Elisabetta Esther -
In The Frosted Rose Garden Of Madness
In the frosted rose garden of madness, a place of bliss and delight, prospered in secrecy. Thorns and petals intertwined in a lethal union, merging like sweet poison in the twilight. Snowflakes were falling over me like soft caresses sent by the luminaries. Clouds were numbing me with their alluring charm, casting bad memories away from my mind.
Everything seemed perfect and deformed. What appeared to be real was just an illusion, and I fed my soul with delusions and glimmering lies. While the flickering of the candlelight created constantly bizarre drawings of shadows on the walls, made of bricks and bones. The wind hushed me, for me to pay attention to some revelation I was supposed to hear.
The frosted rose garden of madness was my hidden haven of lunacy and spices. Every kind of rose would blossom in it, surrounded by thorns and arrows. The exquisite magnificence of the view contrasted with the scent of death, which was hovering over it like a wraith from the underworld. My madness was the artifice of my descent to a vortex of frenzies and obsessions.
Storms inside my heart besieged my boldness, and I surrendered to them. Undoubtedly, I was bold enough to face my obliteration, but not enough to accept my burden. Lore and legend taught me the perilous path to oblivion. Thorns and pins pierced my heart as I embraced folly and turmoil.
I wish I could help myself in this labyrinth of passions and longings. Nonetheless, I was lost permanently in the realm of nowhere and absurdity, where everything could have been granted in every conceivable manner, in darkness and light. The colder I felt, the more the dwelling around me dissolved in a haunting haze of derealization.
Shadows sighed in despair, and infinity bled into nothingness. Gloomy shades invited me to hush, sealing my lips with crimson sealing wax. My freedom had been traded for eternal doom and toxic chains. I didn’t recognise my frosted rose garden of madness any longer, because it came to be a forsaken ravine.
Indisputably, my burdens had outlived their purpose. Even the trees and flowers refused to make my acquaintance. I was cast away in the kingdom of desolation and balderdash. I forfeited my voice, and my screams carved words of dismay into my heart.
I was mesmerised by stupor and dizziness as I crossed the portal to utopias and idylls. I had entered an everlasting dream, where I was ethereal and fragile like a rose tormented by blizzards. In solitude, my collapse epitomised the shattering of my dreams, which disintegrated into ashes and frosty flakes.
In the frosted rose garden of madness, I fell into a deadly slumber listening to the sound of a deafening silence. I could envision my fantasies as tainted desires of love and decay. Caressing brambles and hibernated roses, I vanished into the marvellous dark mist of the night as if I had never been a mortal creature. I became darkness and light. I became ice and fire.
Elisabetta Esther