Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: Spectral Presence

  • My Ancient Books

    My Ancient Books

    My ancient books follow me wherever I go
    Like loyal companions in my silent and solitary quest
    They fill my imagination with wonder and delight, surrounding me with their dust of decay

    Surprised, but their magic capability to transform my life into a phantasmagorical realm
    Where everything is possible, and every wish of mine is granted
    I often gaze at them at night, and they leave in me a feeling of awe

    My ancient books beckoned me into the realm of fantasy
    Where I could embrace my frenzy and whims
    And nonsense could have been the guiding force of my wisdom

    Their pages concealed ancient arcana about sorcerers and witches, ghosts and shadows
    Welcoming me into a world where time didn’t exist
    And becoming gateways to lost worlds of imagination

    Under the pale moonlight piercing the veil of darkness in my chamber
    I sank into a deep trance as though under the influence of a magic spell
    And it seemed that each letter was bleeding like veins of ebony ink

    My ancient books became secret crypts
    Keeping their obsessive mysteries and enigmatic wisdom
    While I couldn’t flee from their alluring and captivating magnetism

    I was not a reader anymore
    I became a character in their stories and a tiny phantom trapped in their realm
    And I got lost in the maze of knowledge and madness

    My name was carved on each page
    And it felt as if the characters of my ancient books were calling out to me
    While I was more confused than ever

    Forgotten by all
    There was no memory of myself in the night sky
    I fell into the abyss of ancient legends

    The fissures within my senses became blurry lines
    I walked through infinite halls of cursed tales
    As if there would never be tomorrow

    Every word was echoing in my mind at the rhythm of my own heart
    While every page overflowed with gloomy remembrances
    Beguiling me still further into places where time is nullified and hope is void

    The ghostly company of nightmares and despair was all mine
    Every time my soul blended with those haunting rhymes
    And I became both a storyteller and a captive
    Forever entangled in the immortal embrace of my ancient books.
    Elisabetta

  • The Haunting Silence

    The Haunting Silence

    The haunting silence reigned in a forsaken chamber where shadows dwelled,
    The air grew dense, the shadows swelled,
    A presence lingered, cold and near,
    An unseen face, a spectral sneer.

    Beneath the floor, beneath the bed,
    Whispers of lost hopes lingered,
    Their voices blended with the wind’s mourn,
    A mournful tune of spirits torn.

    Curtains swayed with an unseen breeze,
    As if disturbed by ghostly pleas,
    Silence roared, the darkness sighed,
    A realm where living dreams denied.

    Eyes glimmered from the dark,
    A fading light, a ghostly spark,
    In this house of endless gloom,
    Souls were bound within their tombs.

    The clock ticked on with a mournful sound,
    Echoes of the past resounded,
    The air was thick with spectral dread,
    As if the very walls had bled.

    Floors creaked with a mournful groan,
    A house empty, all alone,
    Where shadows danced on walls so bare,
    And ghosts of memories crowded the air.

    In this haunted, shadowed room,
    Time stood still in endless gloom,
    The night was long, the silence deep,
    Where restless souls refused to sleep.

    Each creak and moan, a haunting cry,
    Of spirits trapped in darkness nigh,
    In this place where shadows roamed,
    Ghosts of sorrow found their dwelling.

    Haunting silence wrapped like an invisible cloud,
    A chilling mist, a phantom crowd,
    Lost in the darkness, hearts grew cold,
    As stories of the dead unfolded.

    Spectral fingers traced the air,
    In the ghostly dance of deep despair,
    Unseen eyes watched, shadows crept,
    In this place where silence wept.

    In corners, shadows coiled,
    Haunting silence, their eternal toil,
    Echoes lingered, whispers blended,
    In this silent chamber where time ended.

    The haunting silence was cold, the night was long,
    A spectral lullaby, a ghostly song,
    Faint whispers echoed through the hall,
    As shadows writhed and darkness fell.

    In these walls, secrets stayed,
    Ghostly murmurs led astray,
    A chilling hush, a spectral cry,
    In this remote and unreachable place where echoes died.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss Beckons

    The Abyss Beckons

    The abyss beckons,
    In a desolate, forsaken grove,
    Where ancient trees in whispers rove,
    A doorway to the void appears,
    A portal wrought of shadows’ tears.

    The mist becomes a thick veil, a stifling pall,
    As darkness wraps around it all,
    An unseen grasp extends its grip,
    A chilling, spectral spasm.

    Through an invisible gate, a void calls out,
    In haunting whispers laced with doubt,
    It beckons those who dare to tread,
    Beyond the realms of mortal dread.

    A black cloud stands on the brink,
    Where sanity and madness link,
    Its glance reflects a shattered mind,
    A spirit to shadows now consigned.

    The void’s soft murmur pleads,
    To come forth and surrender to the imaginary,
    Embracing the night, letting shadows claim,
    The essence of an immortal flame.

    With trembling hesitation, dreams fly,
    Across the threshold, darkness proves,
    A journey through the void begins,
    Where silence reigns and night never thins.

    In this abyss, all senses distort,
    Reality itself contorts,
    No light, no sound, no time, no space,
    Just endless dark, an endless chase.

    And yet, within this void so vast,
    Lie memories of forgotten past,
    Of nightmares that wandered, lost their way,
    And now in shadows’ grasp must stay.

    A soundless shriek emerges from the gloom,
    A lament from the timeless tomb,
    Fearing not the dark, for it is kin,
    To every longing that dwells within.

    As silence falls, fantasies fade,
    Consumed by dark, by shadows’ shades,
    An echo of a hope once bright,
    Now lost within the endless night.

    And as the portal starts to close,
    The whisper of the void still flows,
    A haunting secret that allures, it confines,
    For, in the end, the dark persists.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

© Esther Racah 2025. All rights reserved.