Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: ritual

  • Possessed And Haunted By My Yearnings

    Possessed And Haunted By My Yearnings

    Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was bewitched by demonic creatures and exquisite ghouls, which I worshipped each night devoutly.

    My heart had been dilapidated and torn apart by mortal shallow caprices. I did cast fatal spells that broke bones and obliterated kingdoms. My cravings were my ruin and delight.

    I felt pierced by arrows of passion, and I could breathe ecstatic instants of decay. I sought self-destruction. I was willing to give my soul away to the frosty wind of the winter nights.

    All my cherished dreams had been turned to ashes of sorrow. My heart was just a bloody piece of flesh with no mercy for those who abused and armed. Thus, I surrendered to rage and revenge.

    I screamed all my fury to the stars at midnight, and summoned my beloved demons, which listened carefully to my prayers. Therefore, the most violent storm annihilated those who took me for granted and those who replaced me with shallow puppets.

    I recited my poetic verses full of esotericism and black magic in the worst moments of dismay and mortification. I sang to the sun and to the moon my anguish while crying tears of blood. I wished for oblivion and fearless vengeance.

    My terrible sobs eclipsed the sound of thunder and maelstrom. Possessed and haunted by my yearnings, I was sorely lacking in my innocence. Instead, I had become the embodiment of lust.

    I begged all the underworld creatures to calm my anger down. Still, the only possible outcome was a chant of revenge, wrapped in a black rope and sealed with the wax of black and crimson candles.

    I conjured all the infernal spirits and sublime spectres, my most loyal companions, and they responded to my call. They unleashed turmoil and devastation, and they took me with them into their realm of Hades.

    Surrounded by crystal skulls and stone flowers, I had become a sorceress and the queen of shadows and forbidden realms. In my heart, there were only poison and curses. I sought corruption and sin. I finally lived in the realm of feral cravings, of depravity and of merciless darkness.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The Graveyard Of My Luscious Flowers

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers appeared in all its majesty and magnificence, hiding arcane secrets and alluring spells of lost loves that were now just a scatter of dust and blood. My wicked heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been pierced lusciously by devilish ghouls.

    In the certitude that no creature loved me but all that I could cherish was the despised portrait of my dreams, which had been buried alive in the graveyard of my luscious flowers. Sweet funeral melodies floated like a gentle winter breeze, making me melt like a snowflake under the sun.

    I huddled among the gravestones looking, for a trace of one of my flowers but I searched in vain because I found only slimy earth and ice. I could see shadows peeking out from the dry branches of dead trees, whose roots were soaked in despair and bones.

    An exquisite storm ripped me apart and stole my shattered heart, along with all my desires and dreams. I dared to chase all the stars of the night sky; nevertheless, I couldn’t find them because they were not there for me. I had altered into an ethereal entity. I wasn’t alive. I wasn’t dead.

    I fantasised about pointed shining swords and crimson incense, whenever a demon would seize me like a disposable porcelain doll. I wasn’t made of blood and bones anymore. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and madness. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made coffin.

    I embraced the realm of death and depravity, and like a fierce ghost, I hunted treasure chests with hearts locked inside. Because, I yearned for love and passion, like a flower in the desert craved water. I was an everlasting flame, and I was a frosty blizzard.

    I enjoyed being a wicked sorceress, ready to cast evil spells, and finding delight in my graveyard, confiding in my crows, skulls, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting sweet and bitter poisons and sipping the blood of my mortal prey. I swallowed nonsense and fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.

    I was disdain and love. I was death and life. I was darkness and light. I was lust and virginity. I was madness and wisdom. I was corruption and purity. I was horror and beauty. I was cruelty and virtue. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.

    I was charred alive because of my foolish and insatiable lusts. Having no blood, flesh or bones, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for torture and stupor was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my blood had been splattered upon the stormy wind and all my bones had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of demons and witches, and embracing the doom became my only dream.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Ninth Seal

    The Ninth Seal

    The ninth seal
    Because the hour was nine. Or almost.
    Paris wept softly blue through cobblestones and gaslight.
    A monster came,
    not with claws nor teeth,
    But with wheels,
    A chained demon in place of horses,
    and the roar of hatred and madness disguised as an engine.

    He saw me.
    He chose me.
    He had determined that I had to die by his shameful hand
    The madman with the skull face,
    The carriage forged in a nightmare,
    drunk on fury,
    under a wicked spell,
    his infernal claws trembling not from fear —
    But from the thrill of ending me.

    And I,
    Just a girl in a pale embroidered dress,
    Crowned with strands of gold and unarmed,
    But not unguarded.

    For something stopped him.
    Something unseen.
    A force older than rot,
    stronger than rage,
    woven from secret whispers and gold light
    spilt from my angelic protector gaze.

    The wheels screamed.
    The demons reared.
    And time stopped to exist
    As the carriage froze inches from my heart.

    Behind me,
    two hags —
    with teeth like monuments and gums raw as hunger,
    bald as ancient ruins,
    laughed as if grace were weakness
    and survival, shame.

    Their laughter didn’t touch me.
    I walked on,
    not broken.
    Not bowed.
    My feet were flame and precious gemstones.

    I passed through death
    I passed through judgment
    as one who had died before —
    and been reborn
    With mirrors behind her eyes
    and dustless bones.

    No prayer was spoken.
    No sword was drawn.
    But a pact was sealed in starlight and crystal blaze.

    And so I say:

    Nine are the circles, nine the keys.
    I cloak myself in stone and destiny.
    He who looks sees nothing, he who listens hears no sound,
    But I stand guarded, armed with beauty,
    And no evil enters where nine times I have said yes.
    Elisabetta

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