Tag: supernatural

  • The Mirror Spell

    The Mirror Spell

    The mirror spell was cast in a time long past,
    When the shadows were more sombre,
    And no light was reflected by that polished glass with worn edges,
    In a realm where dreams and desires were both shattered and torn.

    The mirror held a mystic snare,
    Since an ancient curse was embedded underneath;
    Its countenance became frozen as the night descended,
    Concealing tales of malcontent and sorrow.

    None could ever have touched it,
    A frail and lost vestige of the past.
    No one knew the foolish tale of this magic mirror,
    A mirror that, for every glance, granted but a glimpse of dread,
    Revealing only truths that none could bear.

    Withered hopes and desolate hearts laid bare in that realm of death,
    Each crack was a line of sorrow’s trace,
    Revealing each distorted dream in a haunting silence.
    Each night, it summoned a hollow tone,
    Luring the lost to claim its own;

    In haunted halls, where echoes roamed like wild animals,
    The mirror enticed the lost dreamers,
    Making them drunk on dreams, their fleeting light,
    Swallowed by chasms as dark as night;
    Its silent curse, a binding thread,
    To weave the hearts of the forgotten dead.

    In this fatal frolic of dreams and oblivion,
    Those who dared to peer inside,
    Were drawn to an abyss none could disguise;
    Till flesh and spirit, thin and worn,
    Became as pale as twilight morn.

    The mirror lingered in that desolate dwelling,
    A relic untouched by time,
    Luring those who sought reasons that would forever elude them.
    Veiled in glooms, it became a gateway,
    Pulling ghosts into a realm where whispers of despair merged with the lingering scent of dust and decay.

    Each sigh, a lullaby for the forlorn, coaxed the foolish and fearless alike until consumed by the darkness.
    They hovered beyond the reach of dawn,
    Into the infinite void.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Enchantment

    The Enchantment

    The enchantment, a shadowed spell, had been cast beneath the twilight’s dying sigh,
    Where ancient oaks had swayed in the wind like phantoms of the past.
    A chant had echoed through the tangled woods, its cadence dark and deep,
    Awakening spirits have long forgotten from the caverns where they had slept.

    Amidst the stillness of nightfall, murmurs sighed endlessly,
    As unseen eyes had glowed dimly beneath a starless sky.
    The moon had hung low, a sallow face, pale as winter’s bone,
    Illuminating paths of sorrow where the lost souls had roamed alone.

    A mist had coiled through the midnight, cold fingers tracing near,
    Wrapping around the weary hearts that had beat with ascending fear.
    The trees, like crooked figures, had leaned closer to behold,
    The place where time had dissolved away, and every tale was told.

    At the circle’s heart, an altar had stood, adorned in faded lace,
    And there, a book of fateful words had lain bound in death’s embrace.
    With trembling restlessness, the pages had turned, each verse a dreadful sound,
    As secrets had slipped into the void and spun themselves around.

    The ground had begun to shake as shadows took their form,
    Emerging from the depths below, a writhing, ghastly swarm.
    Their voices had spoken in unison, a harmony of dread,
    Recalling all the lives once lived and all the blood once shed.

    Enchantments had surged through every vein, a venom cold and dark,
    Binding all who had ventured there with no hope of turning back.
    The winds had grown sharp, a biting chill that had pierced the very night,
    And overhead, the idylls had burned with a pale, infernal light.

    The spirits had danced in circles wide; their laughter had echoed grimly,
    A dirge that sang of vanished days and all that might have been.
    The ancient oaks had groaned softly as if burdened by despair,
    Their roots, entwined with cursed soil, had held fast in the bewitched air.

    The enchantment had deepened, drawing close, its tendrils ever tight,
    Until the world had grown distant, fading slowly from all sight.
    In the dark, the voices had faded, the spell complete at last,
    And silence had reigned where shadows had fallen upon the haunted past.

    Thus had lain the woods, forever bound by the magic’s cruel decree,
    A place where none could have ventured forth nor ever truly fled.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Storm of Doom

    The Storm of Doom

    The storm of doom had begun to roar,
    A thunder rolled upon the moor.
    The skies had grown black, the winds unchained,
    As darkness drowned the earth in the rain.

    The lightning had cut a jagged seam,
    A fractured night, a shattered dream.
    It had struck the tower, ancient, grim,
    A tomb for those who dwelled within.

    The windows rattled in their frames,
    The hearth’s flame flickered and then proclaimed,
    Its dying gasp in choking ash,
    While echoes of the lost desires had crashed.

    The walls had wept mould, the ceiling cracked,
    As shadows crawled from ancient tracks.
    Their forms were vague, their voices cried,
    A haunting wail that never died.

    Beneath the storm of doom, despair ruled in all its might,
    Devouring everything in endless nights.
    Its fury had fed on grief and dread,
    And sought the hearts of those misled.

    The ocean had churned in wrath below,
    As wretched waves crashed to and fro.
    The cliffs had eroded, the earth had given way,
    And night consumed the light of day.

    When silence fell and the wind subsided,
    The storm of doom retreated, but death abided.
    Its final sigh had been a chilling hymn,
    For those who had met their fate within.

    In the abyss where shadows and darkness crept,
    Arcane secrets awakened, and the lost souls wept.
    A dance of phantoms, sorrow’s choir,
    Ignited the aura with ghostly fire.

    They whispered tales of what once had been,
    Of lovers lost and ancient scars.
    In every crack, in every sigh,
    The dreams lingered and never died.

    The storm might have faded, but memories clung,
    In haunted hearts, they twisted and sang.
    For as the tempest faded from sight,
    The boundless night consumed every fading light.

    Euphoric and lush senses were only mirages in the imagination of dreamers who fell into oblivion.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Ghosts of the Forgotten

    The Ghosts of the Forgotten

    The ghosts of the forgotten wandered near,
    In twilight’s grasp, they did appear.
    Their forms were faint, like fading mist,
    And shadows clung where the light was kissed.

    Their whispers rose with night’s cold wreath,
    Echoes of life were now tinged with death.
    They lingered where the darkness fell,
    Between the world and some lost hell.

    Among the ruins, they found their place,
    Where time had left no single trace.
    The walls were cracked, the stones were bare,
    And sorrow hung upon the despair.

    The moon above, an eerie eye,
    Watched over where the spirits did sigh.
    Its silver light fell upon the ashen ground,
    Gave shape to those who made no sound.

    They drifted through the shattered halls,
    Where faded portraits lined the walls.
    Their eyes were empty, cold as stone,
    Forever trapped, forever alone.

    And in the corners, shadows grew,
    Where dreams decayed, and fear came into view.
    The ghosts would reach with hands of frost,
    Reminders of what once was lost.

    Their laments merged in mournful cries,
    A symphony of endless sighs.
    They sang of grief and silent dread,
    Of restless nights among the dead.

    Nevertheless, in their sorrow, there was grace,
    A haunting beauty in their face.
    For though they roamed in death’s embrace,
    Their longing time could not be erased.

    And as the night gave way to dawn,
    The ghosts of the forgotten were gone.
    They vanished with the morning’s stealth,
    Returning to their quiet and eternal death.

    But among the ruins, still and grey,
    Their presence lingers with the day.
    And all who wander through that place,
    Will feel the chill of their cold embrace.

    A last desire might have been exposed,
    That every whispered secret might remain undisclosed,
    Until the very end of the eternal darkness,
    Where time surrendered to a haunting stillness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and Spells

    Dreams and spells coveted in the abyss of shadows where phantoms crept,
    Wandering through a realm half-wept.
    The moon hung low; its face was pale,
    And whispered of a ghostly tale.

    The sky became gloomy, the stars were dim,
    As winds sang out a mournful hymn.
    Every path was lost in endless nights,
    Beneath a sky that held no light.

    Through twisted woods, the wanderers found a gate,
    Its iron bars were wrought with fate.
    A voice called out, both near and far,
    Like echoes from a fallen star.

    “Step forth,” it said, “into the dream,
    Where silence reigns and shadows gleam.”
    Those who crossed the threshold felt the spell,
    A touch of darkness known too well.

    The world within was strange and wild,
    Where reason’s grip was swiftly beguiled.
    The ground was ash, the trees were bone,
    Their branches cracked in a sorrowful tone.

    A figure stood with eyes like fire,
    A sorceress of dark desire.
    She raised her hand, the spell was cast,
    And time itself could not hold fast.

    The dreamers drifted then, their senses blurred,
    In realms where whispered words were heard.
    Each secret spoke of death’s embrace,
    Of haunted dreams and hollow grace.

    The stars fell down like frozen tears,
    Unveiling long-forgotten fears.
    Intense was the feeling of the pull of ancient woe,
    Beneath the weight of night’s cold glow.

    The sorceress turned, her gaze met the others,
    A silent bond both fierce and delicate like smothers.
    She beckoned close, her fingers curled,
    And swirled those unfortunates through her shadowed world.

    A beginning of a frantic dance upon a sea of mist,
    Where every wing gust felt like a tryst,
    With darkness draped in velvet black,
    And the time that twisted, bent, and cracked.

    The spell then broke; the dream grew thin,
    Those delusionals found themselves where they’d once been.
    The gate was gone, the night was still,
    But in every heart, there lingered a chill.

    For though every heart left that cursed realm,
    Its shadows clung; they overwhelmed.
    And in every soul, dreams and spells were bound,
    Whispered secrets lost, never to be found.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Rain of Darkness

    Rain of Darkness

    Rain of darkness fell that night, black and thick as tar. It coated the windows, sliding down in slow, oily rivulets, obscuring the world beyond. The streets outside were nothing but shadows, swallowed by the heavy downpour that drowned out all other sounds. The wind howled like a beast in the distance, but its cries were muted, overwhelmed by the suffocating storm.

    Rain of darkness soaked the earth, turning it into a quagmire of mud and decay. Trees bent and creaked under their weight, their branches snapping like brittle bones. The sky above was an endless void, with no stars and no moon to guide the way. Only the relentless black rain, falling in heavy sheets, smothered all in its path. The scent of enigma and decay was melting in the damp evening air, weaving through the tangled shadows of an ancient forest like something dead and forgotten for a long time.

    Rain of darkness filled every inch of solid ground, choking trees and meadows with its oppressive presence as it ran through the forest. Each instant sank into the soggy ground, pulling dreams deeper into the mire. It suffocated the light, leaving only the faintest glimmer of hope trapped beneath the weight of despair. The path ahead was obscured, swallowed by the inky blackness of the storm. Nothing could be heard behind; the rain muffled every mortal trace, and it was still there, still relentless.

    A rain of darkness haunted the woods like a furious ghoul as the night stretched on. There was no shelter there, no safety in the depths of the woods. The storm would never cease, and it became perpetually a predator that would never stop. The rain would fall forever, drowning out the world until there was nothing left but shadows and darkness. And then, even the shadows would fade in the emptiness.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful Dreams

    Dreadful dreams in darkness brewed,
    The world outside in silence stewed.
    A chill hung thick as whispers weaved,
    Through hollow halls, where none believed.

    A castle loomed, its walls decayed,
    Where time had stopped and light delayed.
    Through labyrinths that none had known,
    They wandered there, each one alone.

    Figures rose from meadows like thorns,
    With eyes that bled and voices steeped,
    In sorrows long since left unsaid,
    Now, pulling dreamers to the dead.

    Dreadful dreams, where shadows crept,
    Beneath their lids, no restful sleep.
    The night grew cold, the visions swayed,
    In twisted forms, the mind was betrayed.

    No way to flee, no path to run,
    For night devoured every sun.
    The walls grew impenetrable, the air was poison,
    And trapped everyone in an endless prison.

    In the silence, whispers of fright,
    Haunted souls wander, lost from sight.
    Each gust a toil, each step a plight,
    As darkness consumed every fading light.

    Dreadful dreams, where mirrors cracked,
    And whispers from the void slammed.
    A thousand clouds lost in space,
    All seeking what they couldn’t chase.

    Souls entwined with endless fear,
    Never to wake, forever near.
    The moon, once full, was now cracked and pale,
    Its silver light began to fail.

    And as the fading shades crept,
    The dreamers into silence wept.
    The night consumed all hopes and screams,
    And left them bound to dreadful dreams.

    Dreadful dreams wandered like shades of night,
    Whispered softly beneath dark skies.
    Each dwelling became a fearsome sight,
    As shadows moved in the dimming light.

    Desires entwined with seizing dread,
    Wandering everywhere, but hope had fled.
    Each secret carried tales of woe,
    As spectres flickered, fast and slow.

    In the gloom, no spark remained,
    No bright memory could have been preserved.
    The dreamers sought the light once more,
    But shadows beckoned from the shore.

    Dreadful dreams chased every fleeting glow,
    Finding themselves in depths below.
    With every instant, the darkness grew,
    A truth obscured, a world askew.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • On The Verge Of Doom

    On The Verge Of Doom

    On the verge of doom, where shadows cling,
    Beneath the endless skies of decay, no light to show.
    A land of sighs and tears breathes its last, steeped in dread,
    As night consumes, the sun leaves all hopes dead.

    The scent of oppression pervades with shadows of despair,
    Each dream becomes an illusion as the world lies broken.
    The trees stand twisted, their branches bare,
    Grasping at the stars as if seeking solace unspoken.

    On the verge of doom, the silence reigns,
    A haunting emptiness of forgotten pains.
    The moon hangs dim, a spectre in the night,
    Casting ghostly glimmers, a wicked light.

    Raindrops fade softly along the cobbled lane,
    Where memories linger, steeped in anguish and pain.
    The castle looms, its towers cracked and worn,
    A sentinel of sorrow, where dreams are torn.

    On the verge of doom, in chambers adorned,
    With dust and despair, wraiths of phantoms curl.
    They beckon with tales of those lost to time,
    Of loves that withered, of life’s cruel rhyme.

    Hope strives to cling tenaciously to the edge of the night,
    A flicker, a spark, in the grip of the fright.
    But darkness devours, as it always has done and always will,
    And on the verge of doom, all battles are worthless.

    On the verge of doom, the silence hangs heavy,
    Darkness creeps upon all realms, its grip tightening fast.
    Desire turns to ashes, consumed by the keeper,
    In this hollow silence, all dreams are betrayed.

    In the echoes of silence, in the depth of the gloom,
    Lies the haunting refrain of impending doom.
    Among the shadows where the weary hearts dwell,
    Forever entwined in the web of the invisible.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • The Abyss of Doom

    The Abyss of Doom

    The abyss of doom hunts me,
    Paving the way for my decay.
    Glorious illusions are not my guardians anymore,
    Hence, the darkness encloses me in a labyrinth of despair.

    The abyss of doom sees me wherever I roam,
    Wandering through a wild garden of wickedness,
    Surrounded by evil ghouls with burning eyes,
    Lonely and injured, striving for survival.

    I stumble through this forsaken realm,
    Where hope is a fleeting ghost,
    Fading into shadows with every step.
    The wind howls like a cursed whisper,
    Carrying with it the echoes of forgotten souls,
    Who once danced in the light,
    Now imprisoned in the eternal night.

    There is no mercy here, no salvation,
    Only the weight of my own dread.
    The ghouls laugh with hollow voices,
    Their eyes are aflame with the fire of my fear,
    And nevertheless, I press on through the thorns,
    Each step tears away the remnants of my strength.

    The abyss of doom knows my every thought,
    It feels my terror, my sorrow, my longing,
    For an escape that will never come.
    The sky above is blackened, choked with clouds,
    The ground below cracks under the weight of my despair.

    How long can I endure this torment?
    How far can one go when surrounded by spectres?
    The answers elude me, just as freedom does.
    I am lost in a maze where the walls close in,
    And every path leads deeper into oblivion.

    The flowers in this cursed garden are withered,
    Their petals fall like shattered dreams,
    Rotting under the harsh gaze of death.
    I cannot escape this realm of endless grief,
    Where each breath I take only brings me closer,
    To the abyss of doom that waits to claim me whole.

    And so I wander still, forever trapped,
    A soul adrift in the abyss of doom.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

  • Fright and Horror

    Fright and Horror

    Fright and horror ruled the night,
    Within that house of crumbling stone,
    Where shadows swirled with dread and fright,
    And chilling whispers, all alone.

    The hearth, once warm, now cold and still,
    Had seen the darkened spirits roam,
    Their blast a chill, their presence ill,
    Made mortal hearts a haunted home.

    In faded tapestries of old,
    Where spectral eyes gazed from their frame,
    Fright and horror did unfold,
    Their stare was a harbinger of shame.

    Through moonlit panes and misty gloom,
    A figure roamed with spectral grace,
    Its eyes aglow, a foreboding doom,
    Its silent steps a grim embrace.

    Fright and horror held their sway,
    As echoes moaned through hollow halls,
    Where time and dread had lost their way,
    And shadows clung to ancient walls.

    In every scrape, in every groan,
    A tale of fear was sharply drawn,
    Where once was light, now dark is sown,
    And glimmer’s truth is nearly gone.

    A portrait hung of mournful hue,
    Its subject lost, a fate unknown,
    Fright and horror to the few
    Who dared to tread where spirits sobbed.

    The house, now left in deep darkness,
    Tales of its terror plagued,
    Panic and anguish in restless sleep,
    Tormented the realm where darkness ruled.

    Fright and horror wove their spell,
    In labyrinths of endless gloom,
    Where every corner hid a legend
    Of sorrow sealed within each chamber.

    No light could pierce the shrouded veil,
    No sound could chase the spectral dread,
    Since in its chasms, the horror has passed
    Bounding every soul that dared be led.
    Esther Elizabeth Racah

Skip to content