The restlessness of the night never left my quiet chamber adorned with ancient mirrors and candles extinguished by the freezing wind of the darkness.
The silence helped my nightmares discourage my heart from holding dear its long-coveted desires.
Henceforth, I tried not to panic when I realised that I couldn’t find any image of myself in the mirrors of my antique manor.
Not even a portrait was there and each time I tried to perceive my countenance, all I could discover was a box full of sand and decay.
The hours sang an elegy for the passing of the night that was infinite and determined to rule hegemony in the realm of my bizarre fantasies and odd revelations.
Magic dreams were only faraway illusions that had been bestowed to me once again only to be left in the abyss of despair with nothing but my vest full of sand and decay.
The restlessness of the night offered me the goblet of eternal torment, alluring me with fairy tales and foolish legends.
I wished to become an invisible creature of the gloomy night, however, I could do nothing but observe my name inscribed on every wall and book that I had encountered.
No importance was given to my will since the day I was born beneath the hollow trees of dismay.
The stars manifested their disregard for me, leaving me in my senseless loneliness, at the mercy of the raging storms that would have swept me away.
In vain, I claimed my liberty from that misfortune, but they came to claim me and all that once was mine, the ghouls from the archaic world of my past misadventures.
Perhaps I could have forgotten the sensations of delight and gentle euphoria.
The restlessness of the night had become the portal to my agony and everlasting grief, which never abandoned my aching heart.
Elisabetta Esther