Tag: occult literature

  • Undisclosed Secrets

    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

  • The Spell In The Mirror

    The Spell In The Mirror

    The spell in the mirror made me step further back into the dark corners of my dilapidated dwelling, where echoes of my heart’s emptiness reverberated. No matter how much I tried to flee my bitter memories, I could find no refuge in that dwelling that should have protected me; instead, I fled into the unknown of the ancient oak forest—a dark place, yet more reassuring than other places that were too bitter for my heart. The night never left my side as I kept wandering aimlessly without a particular intention or destination. I felt the gelid blizzard surrounding me without hesitation, forcing me to find my haven inside a mysterious cave, where a lantern illuminated my surroundings. Extravagant visions kept me from falling into a deep sleep, like bewitching chimaeras. I could not avoid passing through a magical portal unknown to me and crossing the threshold into a wondrous world that filled me with awe and stupor. It was as if a burning desire overwhelmed my senses and heart, and all my wishes had transformed into magnificent flowers, whose exquisite perfume extended throughout that enchanted realm. The sun appeared in the middle of the night as to greet the stars hiding behind gloomy clouds, and the twilight was altered by the constant sunshine, making the realm glimmer like a treasure chest filled with splendid gems. The spell in the mirror had invited me to a world, which belonged only to me and was invisible to humankind. I was surprised by the peculiar beauty of that realm, hidden behind that magic mirror adorned with enchantments. I suddenly perceived that the surroundings were made of luxury furniture, and I gave a curious glance at a dark ornate desk holding a glass perfume bottle, beautiful roses, the ornate mirror and an armillary sphere, which resembled a model of celestial spheres. A black cat was resting on a stack of books by the window, and gazing out at the skyline, it whispered to me some arcane poetry. Meanwhile, I was admiring a large arched window looking out over a gothic city with spires and towers beneath the gaze of a theatrical sunset and a glowing moon. Certainly, I could not resist looking at some antique books where I did find the story of my life together with all the descriptions of my dreams and my trepidations; just like my predefined fate wanted to let me know that there was no possibility of changing the events that would have happened in the future. My very name was engraved on the richly adorned cover of every volume, which resembled a bewitched grimoire. The feline companion approached me as if I were a dear friend from a past life. An absolute silence descended all over the gloomy gothic chamber and I felt more than ever that I had become just one of the several evanescent chimaeras visiting my own dreams. The spell in the mirror was but a chaotic enigma in the infinite abyss of darkness and dreams.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Magic Foggy Night

    The Magic Foggy Night

    The magic foggy night became my night of dreams and fantastical visions. A bright, cloudy full moon stirred delightful emotions in my heart, cherishing a marvellous melancholy and sordid dismay. My attention was astonished by the sight of a stack of weathered antique books illuminated by a flamboyant candle beside a shining brass armillary sphere. The magic foggy night didn’t reveal its secrets, so I tried to talk to an esoteric book with celestial motifs, asking questions about that mysterious wisdom I was not supposed to know. As I proceeded in my questionable quest, I caught sight of a glowing glass lantern, while a solitary black raven perched on the weathered stone balcony railing amid climbing ivy. In solitude, I was resolute enough to disclose every aspect of my bizarre fate, which never failed to surprise me. As long as the magic foggy night made my imagination more unpredictable and hectic, it caused me to lose my ability to be comforted by my slumbering rest. Many doubts crossed my mind uncomfortably as I gasped uneasily whenever I realised that all I was glimpsing was a pristine daydream. It seemed that beauty was an ephemeral manifestation of my evanescent dreams. For too long I let my expectations fall into the abyss of decay, and in vain I waited for an impetuous storm to invite me into another realm. Nevertheless, the blemishes in my heart became engraved truths, which were too harsh to endure as I became more aware of the desolation of my existence. The magic foggy night had made me acquainted with nocturnal creatures and forbidden knowledge at the sight of splendour and magnificence. Alas, so abruptly time had passed, and oblivion claimed all those treasures, which hitherto had been my cherished belongings. Therefore, my flamboyant candle with the shining brass armillary sphere and weathered antique occult books together with the glowing glass lantern faded away into the void of the gloomy night. The solitary black raven flew high up into the sky until it lay beside the glistering stars. All that remained to be seen was the withered ivy and some relics of my whispers of despair. The magic foggy night had been just an illusion; a dream that didn’t accompany me for as long as I wished. The night’s deception was but an evanescence, vanishing into the darkness and leaving behind nothing but the bitter remembrance of a resplendence that had never truly been mine.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant Dreams

    Extravagant dreams appeared like magnificent paintings of different natures, making me feel all those emotions I never felt in real life. I wondered what it would be possible to achieve in my marvellous fantasies. Nevertheless, I never realised in my entire existence what my fate wanted me to understand through prophecies and nightmares.

    The antique clock struck each hour, while its pendulum swung relentlessly from side to side, echoing the inexorable passage of time, and inducing me to find my magic manuscript of phantasmagorias and peculiarities. In truth, I had the intention to cast a spell over the moon and the stars. My vanity allowed me to relinquish all control over my heart and I was finally able to see the chaos and power of my imagination.

    Extravagant dreams became my secret treasures in the lonely nights whenever the clouds covered all the luminaries, hiding the moon in their soft gloominess. Every time I awakened in the middle of the night only to realise that there was no possibility to question the stars about my shadows and destiny. Since bedlam ruled my life, my heart knew no certitudes but an exigent desire to look at the swarthy face of the moon.

    Majestic ravens were my loyal witnesses to my endless thirst for vengeance. Indeed, I so often dreamed of seeing justice appear in the shape of frightening ghouls as a gift to those entities that had mistreated me so badly. My awkward and extravagant dreams were constantly my guides, willing to soothe all my resentments and grief, which were huge burdens inside my heart like inextinguishable flames.

    Silence didn’t succeed in pacifying all my trepidations, in fact, I was by then at the mercy of the tumultuous winds of an approaching storm. I couldn’t even listen properly to the echoes of my thoughts lingering in the emptiness of the night like withered flowers. Extravagant dreams were no longer my shadows following me everywhere, instead, there was only a bare landscape with no trees, just a few meadows and the dust of my memories which were not there with me anymore.
    Elisabetta Esther

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