Esther Racah Writer & Literary Blogger

Tag: witches

  • 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

  • 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 decay. My wild heart had dragged me into the abyss of dismay where I had been allured magically by wicked ghouls.

    I had certitude that no creature loved me. Still, all that I could cherish was the damaged portrait of my dreams, which had been buried 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 muddy 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 overwhelmed me and agitated 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 real. I wasn’t mortal.

    I fantasised about glistening starlight and crimson incense, whenever a nightmare would find me, carrying me to the realm of darkness. I was no longer material. I was a metaphysical creature made of turmoil and frenzy. Instead of a heart, I had an iron-made treasure chest.

    I embraced the realm of darkness and eternal night, and like a fierce ghost, I chased elusive dreams and chimaeras. 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 magic sorceress, ready to cast spells, and finding delight in my withered garden, confiding in my ravens, ghosts, and crimson roses. I amused myself by tasting bittersweet venoms and the frozen flowers, which were blossoming in my garden. I swallowed nonsense and I sensed fire beneath the deep garnet moonlight.

    I was hate and love. I was demise and power. I was darkness and light. I was fervour and purity. I was madness and wisdom. I was sin and virtue. I was blight and beauty. I was nasty and righteous. Everything lingered within me, and nothingness swirled like a tempest inside me as well.

    I burned like an inextinguishable flame because of my foolish and greedy desires. Having no longer a body, I was made only of fire and ice. Instead of a heart, I had an abyss of frenzy. My fondness for nightmares and dizziness was infinite, like the oblivion of the universe.

    The graveyard of my luscious flowers was my agony and my bliss. All my spirit had been brought away by the stormy wind and all my hooes had been reduced to ashes. My soul belonged entirely to the magical realm of ghouls and witches. I embraced the doom, becoming my only dream.
    Elisabetta Esther

  • The Uniqueness Of Macbeth

    The Uniqueness Of Macbeth

    The uniqueness of Macbeth is because of the combination between its characters and the gloomy aura surrounding them. Indeed, Macbeth is a masterwork by William Shakespeare, although it is a short tragedy. It is a rare and extraordinary literary work. 

    The first tragedy in my list of books

    In my first list of books, I included as first book Macbeth. Macbeth is the shortest play among the most remarkable tragedies of William Shakespeare, who wrote it around 1606. A dark and gloomy aura lingers in this drama. The main characters are the thane of Glamis Macbeth with his wife, the three Weyward sisters (the witches), the king of Scotland Duncan, Duncan’s elder son Malcolm and the Scottish thane Banquo. In the tragedy of Macbeth, the metaphysical world meets the worst aspects of human nature. We find corruption, murder, power, lust, and extreme ambition besides avidity, misery, and desperation. It is the tragic story of Macbeth, who is instigated by his enthusiasm and his wife to commit murders to become king of Scotland. He will end up a victim of the crimes he committed in the past, once he realises his crimes’ gravity. 

    The darkness and tension 

    The dark ambience of Macbeth is the first thing, which captivates my attention. This play develops in five acts, and each act contains different scenes. At the beginning of the first act, Shakespeare started this tragedy with Thunder and lightning and three witches’ entrance. In the third scene, they greet Macbeth as Thane of Glamis and Cawdor; also, the third witch prophesies him to be king hereafter. Macbeth is a loyal general in the service of Duncan, the King of Scotland. Suddenly the situation changes, once Lady Macbeth receives the letter of her husband, the tension increases. Indeed, she plans the murder of King Duncan, evoking evil spirits to help her fall victim to the direst cruelty. And she exerts a strong influence over Macbeth, persuading him to commit this disgraceful action. 

    An evil portrayal of the women

    What it’s impressive in this drama is Shakespeare’s perspective regarding the women, how they can be wicked and, at the same time, powerful. The Weyward sisters, i.e., the witches, prove the persecution against witchcraft in that period. It can be legitimate to think that this tragedy added another stone in a wall made of superstitions, which will lead to a witch hunt. The witchcraft trials led to the murder of many innocent women because they represented an evil force. Although Macbeth committed all the crimes, the witches manipulated his mind, and Lady Macbeth hatched the plan, instigating him. The three witches have the power to prophesy and govern the climate, and lady Macbeth has a powerful influence on her husband’s mind.

    Conclusions

    Even though I love Shakespeare and Macbeth is a must-to-read drama, I’m perplexed by his vision of the woman as wicked and hideous. Without any doubt, this was the period of public condemn of every type of witchcraft as Reginald Scot attested in his The Discovery of Witchcraft in 1584, where he described the horrendous mass execution in 1582 in Kent. Of course, I don’t have doubts about the uniqueness of this opera. The edition I’m reading is from the British publisher Wordsworth Editions. To be continued in the next post because I’m continuing to read it!

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