king who would go down with honor

he had no shoes
and you could hardly call
his shirt a shirt
but he
sat between those two
trash cans like some king
on his throne
  
holding to a stick
like a scepter
  
He drank from an old
rusty can of
beans
but held it like some golden
goblet
  
Clearly he lost the
ability to
taste because in the can
he mixed all he could
find in the trash
  
Beer with vodka
with tequila with wine
and acetone
and rubbing alcohol
  
He had a fearsome guardian
about him
A white dog who constantly
licked his vomit from
the ground
  
It looked black
and spongy
like coffee grounds
  
Some passersby offered to help him
and he refused
  
This was a king who
would go down with honor
after he lost
his kingdom


they are legend

the little girl was scared
at first
but now she was terrified
and about to have
a panic attack

He kept her tight
in his arms and covered her
ears and
told her to calm down
and that everything will
be all right

It was 02:24 AM and the
knocks in
the door and all around
the walls and windows
still carried on

And there were howls
coming from
outside and
curses and a constant sound
of nails scratching
on wood

“Daddy, I’m scared! I’m…”

“I know, dear, I know. But
you have to
calm down. Remember to focus
on your breathing like I told you.
Deep, deep breaths, okay? Deep. In
and out. I promise you,
tomorrow everything’s gonna
be fine. I swear.”

“Is it zombies?” asked the
little girl.

“No, dear. It’s something else.”

“What’s it called?”

“An ex-girlfriend, dear.”

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faded silhouette in the mirror

Gobblers / Masticadores

By Bogman Dragos

 the worst part about being alone and sick is being sick but perhaps the second worst is having no one to comfort you   He reminded himself aloud that it was his own choice and rolled on the carpet and pushed his thumbs inside his eyes   The head was killing him, like the brain grew legs and constantly kneed his eyeballs from the inside, seeking to push them out like caps of beer bottles and exit through the holes   And his stomach wasn't any better although it got everything out some time ago   The first few coughs came with liquid, pungent vomit but now there was only blood   "You can only get what you deserve," whispered the faded silhouette from the mirror. "You might think all this is caused by the bottle of wine you found while dumpster diving as you do. It…

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an old instrument with rusty strings

he sits alone in the
darkness

on a wooden chair

The walls surrounding him
have no
mirrors and
the windows are covered
by the thickest blinds

He doesn’t want to see his
old age

and the decay that already
started consuming
his body

In his mind he’s still
young, still
in his early twenties

still dreaming

He’s listening to music

He’s playing the music
and it exhausts him

The music comes from
within

An instrument with strings

His growling guts

He lubricates them with more
beer

“Ouija Board” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

The Chamber Magazine

Well, when you’re desperate you’re…

“Me,” he said. He was alone in the room and lonely enough to have bought one of those Ouija boards from some old woman who called herself a medium. It was time to try it out.

All he hoped for was a sexy ghost that would haunt him, maybe hurt him a bit, he wouldn’t mind. Anything just to take away the soul-crushing loneliness. Anything!

He said the prayers exactly as the medium instructed and did the breathing exercises and was ready to use the board. He moved the piece to spell HELLO. Got no answer. Looked around the room. Nothing. Again, he spelled HELLO. IS ANYONE HERE? ANYONE AT ALL? ARE YOU FEMALE? Nothing. Nothing new at least. Only more loneliness and more frustration and deeper down the rabbit hole of misfits he slipped.

WELL FUCK YOU! he spelled, and jammed the pointy side…

View original post 150 more words

Saint Bernards are big, heavy dogs

he opened another beer 
and sat on
the couch
but turned off the TV

He watched the kid

The kid was on his knees
before the coffee table
busy with
an orange pencil and a
piece of paper 

Tongue poked
to one side and held
firmly between
the lips,
he was writing letters to
the pet dog
he’ll never see
again

And he did that
all day long

Dad sipped at his beer. The
years of action
were far beyond him now
but by all the gods
he swore
tonight will be the
night
he sneaks into his ex-wife’s
home and kidnaps
the dog

He even rented
a van
for it

feeling the train

A pretty thick 
slice 
of hell 

That was life 
so far 

But today things 
will change 

Today he was six 
years 
old and that meant old 
enough to 
guide his blind father 
on the streets 

The old man was only 
blind for 
a year after some work 
related accident involving acid 

And there was a mother 
somewhere too. She left 
shortly after 
father’s accident 

Today father held on 
to his son’s shirt 
at the shoulder and told him 
to walk towards the 
railway 

“I want to listen to 
the train,” said father 

but it turned out he 
wanted much 
more than that. He wanted to 
feel the train. Against 
his face 

So he stood on the rails 
and told the kid 
to go back home 
and return after an hour or so 

“Okay,” said the kid. But 
he didn’t leave. He watched 
from a safe distance 

Didn’t even find 
the 
event particularly disturbing 

Then he went back home 
and had some 
fruit loops with milk 
and his first taste of 
beer 

He had become a 
man 

cat shaking the paw

She could say it if
she wanted
to but
the words would
carry no
weight behind them

like a cat shaking
the paw with
you
and not understanding
the real meaning
behind
the gesture

so was her
every
“I love you.”

Enough to make an
old boy cry
but he
preferred suicide

Needless to say
her response
was
“Meh.”

“Mother forbade feeding the poor thing” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

The Chamber Magazine

dog

There was a dog outside and it kept barking for some reason. Ah yes, it was chained and the chain was terribly short and the poor animal was hungry.

Mother wouldn’t bother feeding it. No, mother wanted it to die because it had been father’s dog, inherited along with the house after father died. Mother forbade feeding the poor thing.

Her child stood next to the window and listened to the poor thing barking outside. It was better than listening to mother drinking and talking ugly words with her boyfriends.

He opened the window and the dog saw him immediately and barked at him. He wanted to cry. Tried talking to the creature but it wouldn’t listen. It kept barking.

“Mother would cut my hand off if she caught me stealing food for you.”

But he was a smart kid. He leaned over the window and thrust two fingers down…

View original post 82 more words

vomiting snake by Bogdan Dragos

Gobblers / Masticadores

 in nights like this he would just drink in the dark and smoke and lie on his side and hallucinate about a snake vomiting vibrating colors on a white wall   Maybe the snake had eaten paint   But it was a small snake no bigger than a worm and the amount of dancing colors it vomited all over was astounding   Enough to paint the whole house   But the colors would never stay on the things they fell upon The colors would bounce around and dance and vibrate mingle with each other and part and mix again   and the small snake would vomit some more and it would make a sound like babies crying   All he wanted in times like these was to crawl over to the poor snake and comfort it in some way pat its head, place it in his armpit to get warm…

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