In the abyss of nightmares, I belonged for epochs, which lasted as long as the obliteration of my dreams became predominant. Perpetually, the invasive obsession with liberty and chance came to me oddly; nevertheless, I was not able to grasp the flower of resilience, which was far too unreachable. Soon I realised that the nights had overtaken the days and the sun was forever gone.
The echo of my lost dreams reverberated like a scream from the infernal abode of the forsaken ghouls, whose souls were being kept in a jar of gold and crystals. I didn’t ask for that lugubre situation, as my heartbeat was as slow as the tolling of an antique clock, accustomed to no longer marking time—not even for the mirrors. A downpour supervened, interrupting that solemn silence.
In the abyss of nightmares, I discovered that losing all my hopes and dreams had become my delight and bliss as if I enjoyed the misery I was destined to endure since the beginning of eras. As long as darkness was eternity, no feeling of compassion or consolation could soothe my heart, which had become a stone, for the nightmares were caring for my soul.
Each phantom I encountered showed me a book made of tears and memories, then flashed a sneer at me, as if satisfied to accompany me to the valley of despair and decay. And there I lay on the gelid soil that absorbed every teardrop of mine, giving life to flowers whose petals were made of sharp rocks. No reprieve was hidden behind the portals of that realm under the sovereignty of shadows and darkness.
I didn’t even need to escape from that place anymore because it had become the most intrinsic part of myself as if I were a creature of the abyss of nightmares and perpetual storms since eternity. And even the sun had melted with the moon transforming into a black star likely a massive sphere of obsidian irradiating me with its powerful gloominess as if to welcome me.
Elisabetta Esther
