Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: surreal

  • Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s Desires

    Castaway’s desires enticed me in the long winter nights, when the frozen branches of hollow trees caressed me softly, as they needed to approach my body.

    The scent of burning candles devoured my enthusiasm and reminded me only of my hopeless misery. An everlasting burning desire strove to swallow my heart greedily like an invisible demon.

    My insensitive inertia shattered my soul into pieces and I let the devastation take advantage of me. I was born to dissolve and to perish an infinite number of times in endless ways.

    Frenzy and turmoil were my loyal guides like flaming torches in the deepest darkness, and they offered me their improper wisdom. I felt alive only because I embodied the distress that consumed me, leaving me in flames.

    Indeed, it was true that scorching passion sometimes might have let me fall in love with things that destroyed, and that was what penetrated every part of me.

    I was made of fire and glaze surrounded by the cold mist of my dark chamber where dimly lit candles were my only merriment.

    The sweet screams of the night recalled to me who I really was. Obsession carved my vein instilling a tainted poison instead of blood. I became a creature of the realm of shadows and wraiths.

    I was consumed by my own fantasies and foolish hallucinations. I had become the queen of frenzy among my lost memories of worlds which I once belonged to.

    No mortal entity could see me because I was visible only to creatures of my own. There was no transformation in my staticity.

    I could perceive the manifestation of my own tempest, like a tiny vessel in a stormy sea. Lost in the labyrinth of my dreams and dread, I was unable to discover the existence beyond time.

    The great mystery of seeking my reflection in the immense mirror of life made me realise my nothingness. There was no end and there was no beginning but merely a vague silence clinging to me like luscious ivy.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Entangled In My Own Disquiet

    Entangled In My Own Disquiet

    Entangled in my own disquiet
    I found myself in a state of confusion
    Collapsing into a vortex of chaos and despair
    I might have been able to overcome my fears
    But I was not capable of escaping the loneliness

    There were no mirrors in my secret dwelling
    Where candles and shadows were my loyal confidantes
    And an absolute silence was soothing me like a soft lullaby
    While my sighs hid tears of grief

    Thinking of myself as a tiny leaf in an immense ocean
    I was surrendered to fate, ready to be swallowed up in the abyss of oblivion
    Lost in a turmoil of obsessions and dismay

    Many times I wished to escape from the labyrinth of my fantasies
    But deceptions were always following my trail
    I knew no serenity
    Instead, I was condemned to wander endlessly

    Time didn’t know me as I existed in a surreal dimension
    I belonged to the realm of darkness and obliteration
    And I was a victim of the impetuous winds of the long winter night

    I felt the discomfort of reality
    It was like wearing a sumptuous dress made of thorns and quills
    I lived as a doll locked in an airtight box

    No creature could ever perceive me
    No creature could ever hear my sobs and sighs
    No mirror could reflect my image

    I was inevitably entangled in my own disquiet
    Although the stillness around me pacified my soul
    I didn’t feel any urgency to rescue myself
    Indeed, my drowsy heart couldn’t perceive anything anymore

    I had no longing, no desire left
    I’ve never been in the garden of devotion and love
    I’ve always been shrouded in clouds of invisibility
    Always surrounded by candles and spiderwebs
    Lost in a cloud of incense and blooming night flowers
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The Spell Of The Blank Mirror

    The spell of the blank mirror; an invisible chain to a realm that drew me into its clutches. I had recited their arcane enchantment each night while my eyes were hidden by an ephemeral black veil and my lips were crimson from the nectar of my roses. I listened to their hypnotic spell, alluring like a siren song. Even though my eyes were closed, I could see everything and beyond every kind of imagination.

    I had achieved new perceptions, unknown among ordinary mortals. I could see a new realm invisible to humans where my heart was copiously bleeding my soul over a garden of black roses, which were avid for my essence seeking to sip until the very last drop. A sequence of visions took me away from reality. I wasn’t alive anymore, but I wasn’t lifeless either. I had vowed loyalty to the sacred order of magic.

    I could not abide what my own senses had forced me to witness. I saw ghouls feeding their ego with the shallow souls of imbecilic beings. The more I tried to understand myself, the more I felt that the emptiness inside me swallowed me. And the everlasting fire that sustained my heart alive transformed into an abyss of vengeance and fury. I became the night and the night became myself.

    I embraced my descent to the realm of Hades as the most exquisite triumph of my tragic existence. I could taste the poison of the spell of the blank mirror; a tangible proof of my occult sensitivity in perceiving things invisible to human sight. Accompanied by ravens and ghastly vaults, I metamorphosed into an ethereal creature, who no mortal could defeat. I became sacred to the vicious ghouls of the darkness; they carved their arcane symbols into my heart and soul, soaking my heart with their eternal essence.

    I had become infinite and eternal. I had surpassed the stars of which I had now become the only sovereign. I had become the night and the darkness. I had become an ethereal creature, detached from the corrupted world of the mortals. Lightning and thunder celebrated me as the dark queen of the eternal night. I retained all the glimmering light of the luminaries, and I veiled the moon with a velvet shroud made of lace and silk. I didn’t want any light or fire shine in this realm of perpetual nightfall.

    My endearing devils whispered arcane revelations, stroking me with delicate black roses, whose scent of night unfolded in resins and shadowed petals, drifting like smoke through the galleries of my secret and mysterious realm. I indulged in euphoria and dismay, now that my heart had become a holy crypt full of scorn and vengeance. My incubuses and nightmares paid me tributes and praises. All my suffering scars have become hieroglyphics, sigils, pentacles, hexagrams, runes, and obscure seals, etched in dark ink and shadow.

    The spell of the blank mirror vanished like a faint sob in the midst of an impetuous hurricane; it accomplished its mission of initiation and metamorphosis through which I went, leaving me inscribed with the silent glyphs of the unseen, marked by the sigils of shadowy forces, and bound to the eternal drafts of occult supremacy. Crowned and powerful, I sipped a magic elixir from a chalice wrought of relics and raven feathers, and I tasted the obscure bliss of nightmares and granted elation.

    I had disappeared and been reborn as the night and darkness. Every whisper I uttered became a decree for my loyal ghosts, and the scales of justice had finally been weighed in my favour. Fairness had been accomplished in my favour, at the threshold of the Nether Thresholds. And I feasted and reigned with my consecrated coven of beloved witches and phantoms, bound to me evermore.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams And Chimaeras

    Dreams and chimaeras make me forget my worries and anguish.
    Surrounded by memories, broken mirrors, and interrupted cries.
    I lie languid like a flower stunned by the morning dew.

    Silence is a sweet melody that distracts me when I no longer understand where life is leading me.
    And in the night I hear the sound of loneliness like a sudden omen of abandonment and defeat.

    The darkness paints imaginary landscapes in my mind.
    The sound of the clouds reminds me to forget my name and hang my soul upon the shadows to rest.
    Leaden nightmares drag me down into the abyss of despair.

    Far away I can hear the screams of my fears calling out my name.
    So I take the chance to follow their trail in the obsidian forest.
    Where I try to find my image in mirrors that whisper to me.

    Murmurs of pain and betrayal appear to me as shapes of magic bliss.
    In my madness, I exist as a free bird of the night.
    Closed doors become gates to infinity.
    Forever bound to my lack of reality.

    I live in the surreal chasm to which I will always belong.
    Abysm and love blend like mysterious revelations.
    They own my heart and my soul eternally.

    Imagination guides me toward the garden of illusions.
    I become the most delusional creature of the realm of shadows.
    Love caresses me as gently as a sharp snowflake.

    My heart is in an everlasting pang.
    Foolishness possesses me, as I advance in my wisdom.
    What I thought would have destroyed me gave me a spark of demise.

    I was lost and I was alive at the same time.
    As an inanimate doll with a burning heart.
    The nothingness stared at me in its boundless ferocity.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The Abyss Of Nothingness

    The abyss of nothingness swallowed all my fractured desires
    The fear that gripped my heart and that sense of calm, of stability that took hold of my life made me a helpless and insignificant creature, invisible to mortals, yet at the same time the target of their cruelties.

    How much I wished to be different, to be accepted, and to be treated with great respect for who I truly was. But in truth, my entire life was a series of piercing endurance of inhuman suffering, humiliations, cruelties against me, deceit, mockery, traps, attempts to undermine my being, violence, and all the most barbaric and terrifying acts against my soul and myself.

    My life had not been a normal existence—one that no one could have understood. My experience was not a common one. I had lived through a time when my dream had encapsulated me in an ideal, evanescent, and ethereal reality. No one could see me, especially during that period of apparent death. Yes, because for ten long years I had not lived—I had fallen into a deep and fatal dream, isolated from everything and everyone. I had built my own kingdom of dreams and illusions, into which, day by day, I entrusted my very self.

    All the hourglasses in my dwelling had come to a halt, and the flow of time had lost all meaning. The disconnection from the truth that surrounded me had become both a tendency and a habit—one that turned into law. Indeed, I had become like a crystal frozen in time, like a statue untouched by its passing. I carried within me that immaterial sense of my heart, trapped in a confining aura.

    I no longer cared what society thought, nor what people might perceive of me. And so it remains. For my rarity and my strangeness are imperceptible to any human heart. I was accused of things that never were, of things my heart could not even fathom. Everything had vanished like soap bubbles. Nothing remained—only bitter memories or sorrowful ones that dragged me down into the depths of an untouchable abyss.

    Delicate and fragile as I was, I had lost the ability to love, to admire, and to obey mortals. I no longer saw them as similar to me, but rather, I perceived other beings—creatures who had no voice in the human condition—as kindred, as dear to me. And so it was that the abyss of nothingness possessed me, and it will always possess a part of my soul. For I belong to the emptiness and to the darkness.
    Elisabetta

  • The Cemetery Of Fairies

    The Cemetery Of Fairies

    The cemetery of fairies
    lay before me
    In all its solemnity
    and hidden silence,
    where I sought refuge
    In my usual nocturnal flight
    from the nightmares—
    those sovereigns
    of my heart.

    Lay before me
    In all its solemnity
    and hidden silence,
    where I sought refuge
    In my usual nocturnal flight
    from the nightmares—
    those sovereigns
    of my heart.

    Star dust was falling over me
    like a midnight rain
    In a winter storm,
    cold and glimmering,
    silent as a magic spell,
    settling upon my hair
    like an ethereal veil
    woven from arcane secrets.

    A shroud of solitude wrapped around me
    like a protective barrier,
    rendering me invisible to others—
    And yet, at the same time,
    It made me a prisoner
    of a realm I could no longer resist belonging to.

    The pain I had always felt—
    It was like a kind of splinter
    pierced into my heart,
    one to which I had grown numb and accustomed.
    So many sorrows had scattered
    across my brief existence,
    leaving no trace among mortals,
    like a tiny, insignificant creature
    adrift in an immense ocean
    of infinite, scattered universes—
    unconnected, and forgotten.

    My silence was heavy with resentment,
    disillusionment, despair, and utter isolation.
    I stood within the cemetery of fairies—
    not the fairies of storybooks,
    But the ones who embodied my abandoned dreams,
    shattered and buried
    In a vast expanse I called a graveyard,
    Though in truth it existed only within my imagination.
    The scene before me was grim and mournful,
    for it mirrored my shadowed soul—
    a soul steeped in torment
    and numbed by the weight of impossibility,
    numbed by the stark realisation
    that I would never reach
    those long-yearned-for desires
    that had once set my heart alight.

    Sweet should have been the tender memories of my life—
    Yet I called them the ghosts of the past,
    for they haunted and tormented my sleep,
    filling my nights with unrest.
    In those troubled hours,
    My heart was relentlessly torn apart
    by the spears of demons
    Who, with dreadful solemnity,
    invaded my chamber unbidden.
    Elisabetta

  • Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares And Visions

    Nightmares and visions visited me in the middle of the night, when sleep abandoned me to an otherworldly realm never seen nor imagined.
    The fog had clouded every vision, and I could see nothing but the shadows of faint images—spirits moving around me.

    My light sleep was nothing but a portal to a world where torment awaited me, and my heart was torn apart, again and again, without mercy. My gentle expectations had dissolved into the dark horizon, and I could see them no more.

    Indeed, I had become a creature of darkness, devoid of ambitions and expectations, for in truth what was destined for me was absolute emptiness—the total absence of life, love, and joy.

    How could I have held even the smallest hope of escaping that realm of darkness and despair? I no longer knew what life was—full of light, full of love, of hopes and delights.

    Had I been able to foresee my terrifying fate, I might have fled—perhaps among the clouds or the stars—if they had taken me into their realm.

    I might have been melancholic, perhaps—I don’t know—because at that moment I refused to accept any kind of feeling that my heart wished to embrace within itself. It was as if my heart had been torn from my chest and replaced with thorns.

    Pierced and betrayed by that world full of conventions, hypocrisy, titles, and useless materialism, I fled far away but fell into the trap of the world I myself had created in my visions—and that is why nightmares and visions were my most faithful companions, without whom I could not have survived.

    I breathed my last breath and, sighing, surrendered to the cold, sharp, and cruel embrace of the otherworldly realm.
    Elisabetta

  • So It Was A Night

    So It Was A Night

    So it was a night a lonely light where the sky was covered in clouds and all the shades of blue
    surrounded by silent statues whose stares seemed looking at me but in reality, they just didn’t see me. My loneliness was my only dwelling to create another version of myself. I was crying tears of blood, shame and regret. I felt confused, and at the same time, I had the certitude that I would never belong to the world of mortals. I accepted the fact that I never understood and accepted the worldly rules and conventions as I was a creature of my own.

    It was just night when I realised all the decadence of my existence like an ancient statue living off the ancient memories of its previous life without any hesitation and doubt. And so I approached the mirror of my soul where I couldn’t see any image reflected. It was like I was without the soul, and it was because my heart was too broken to be alive. Being always surrounded by beauty and decay I realised my demise. I strived to accept my ephemeral  dimension and abide by being invisible like a small stone in a huge ocean of confusion.

    I knew that every delight and joy did not belong to me, but only sorrow and distress. All I could do was dream. Dreaming and lamenting my miserable life was my delight.  I felt like in a cage, an invisible cage that just made me imperceptible to the sight of everyone. I was just a shadow, a spirit of the night of the terminal darkness where only other ghosts and spirits could perceive my presence. So I was condemned ultimately to a place between dream and death. I was not sure that I was alive. I could not understand since I got lost in the labyrinth of my fate.

    So it was a night, an eternal night. There was no more sunrise or sundown. The sun vanished in the emptiness, and the horizon was so dark that it seemed to be made as an abyss of gloominess. I wondered terminally without finding a refuge of hope and happiness. Tired as I was, and exhausted from my life, I had to face my condition as irreversible and doomed. So it was a night, my eternal night the end of my suffering, and the beginning of the perpetual void. Deprived of light and desire.
    Elisabetta

  • I Want To Be Like The Sea

    I Want To Be Like The Sea

    I want to be like the sea
    I want to be like the wind
    I want to be like the leaves floating free in the mist
    I want to fly away into a dream.
    Elisabetta

  • Midnight Thorns

    Midnight Thorns

    Midnight thorns grew for each teardrop that stroked my face
    With a heart full of stitches and pins
    And for each memory, a mask of remembrance grew like a flower of death
    In a golden cage of betrayal and deception, I dwelled in utter solitude
    Faraway from the vulnerable and wicked sight of mortals

    At each instant, my expectations arose under the shape of lifeless trees
    No season and no hour differentiated the realm of midnight thorns
    A persistent aura of doom distinguished this gilded dungeon
    No sun was rising on the horizon
    Only the several moons dared to appear in all their splendour and dark emotionlessness

    My dwelling was a castle made of pure gold and decadence
    Amid an enchanted forest of malicious spirits and magic spells
    From each mirror, an unknown countenance emerged
    As if my reflection shifted with every passing instant

    Mystical fanfares and funeral laments wavered like otherworldly fragments of sorrow
    Echoing within the hollow walls of my golden dungeon
    Elegies without words hovered as mourning tributes to obliterated dreams
    The chandeliers wept waxen tears made of gold
    And all the chambers and hallways trembled beneath imperceptible footsteps

    I strolled in mourning robes, carrying secrets and grief
    I followed the trail of dark shadows, finding no merriment
    I had lost myself and all my hopes were obliterated
    Everything was buried beneath the ashes of my forsaken dreams
    And the shadows had become friends of my own melancholy

    The glooms were the reflection of my own melancholy
    And all the mirrors were portraits watching quietly with their empty eyes
    No sound beckoned my name, and no aid came from the darkness
    There I was surrounded by the heady perfume of ancient roses and antiquity dust
    I ceded to midnight thorns, the venom of demise and drama.
    Elisabetta

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