What the Shadow Eats, the Shadow Becomes by Bogdan Dragos

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MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The abstract image of a woman's face with black buildings painted on her orange forehead and the upper half of her face having a shadow painted across it
Image Source: Canva

A great shadow seems

to have

tripped and fallen

over these memories

like a thing alive

and hungry

How lucky it is

to have stumbled upon

such treasure

I feel it

eating right now, like

a famished animal

filling its belly

with chunks not even

chewed

It’s eating her

face

and I can no longer

remember it

clearly

The more I try

the more blurred the

image becomes

and its sides are already

dark

The shadow had

ingested them, assimilated

them as nutrients

What the shadow eats

the shadow becomes

And now the

memory is

only the shadow

And I’m thinking that

it has always been

the shadow

I was in love

with a

shadow all this time

She hasn’t been consumed,

only unmasked,

revealed

And she’s

as beautiful as ever

and my love

is still alive

and vibrant

-BOGDAN DRAGOS

Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a…

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I’ve never seen you empty by Bogdan Dragos

ヾ( ・ ω ・*)ノ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy!

Gobblers & Masticadores

the crystal glass sat alone and empty on the window sill She watched it and studied the imprint of her lover’s lips and fingertips on it “Damn, I’ve never seen you empty,” she said to the glass. “How did we get here?” A good question, she realized. It probably starts from growing up with a mother who got beat up on the daily and took it all with a kind of furious pride. It probably starts with telling yourself that when you grow up you will do all in your power to not be like that woman. You’ll be the exact opposite. You won’t take no shit from no man. And you started your adulthood exactly like that. A bad bitch, as some would put it. So why didn’t it continue like that? How come when you met a fragile, damaged man instead of another tough guy, you not only…

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Oamenii ca tine, mor tineri

(☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞ English version HERE!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

– Oamenii ca tine mor tineri, îmi zise ea.
Tu nu bei peste măsură, nu 
te droghezi, mănânci destul
de sănătos,
rar ieși în oraș, rar întâlnești
fete noi.
Dar continui să scrii, băiete.
Continui să scrii
și asta-i suficient ca să le-ntreacă
pe toate cele de mai sus.
O să vezi tu...

Imagine de Gabriele M. Reinhardt de la Pixabay

Volume publicate:

https://bogdandragos.com/

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A Place with More Meaning by Bogdan Dragos

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(ゝ◡・)ノ♡

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

An abstract image with a cup of coffee in the center and the fires of hell on the left side and the cross of Christ on the right side
Image Source: Canva

“One day

I drank 29 cups of

coffee,” she said

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve

no doubt.

“It was my attempt at

suicide,” she said

“Yeah. I’ve no

doubt.”

“There’s free coffee at

work,

so I took advantage. My

boyfriend died

that way, you know? He

was a truck

driver

so he used coffee and

energy drinks to

help him drive at night.

I don’t know how many

he had that night,

but his heart

exploded.

And I thought, you know,

if I die in the

same way, perhaps I will

be taken to the same

place as him.

It just didn’t work for

me.

I know you think this

is, like, so naive,

but when you’re drowning in

grief like I was… even

the afterlife

starts to make sense.

That’s when you

believe most in fantasy. I

even believed in

God, like all the people who

reach…

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An Attempt at Flash Fiction (for Bogdan Dragos)

Andrew Dabar

“It’s my life!”

In the week following Christmases ago, an old timey preacher listened gravely, though not condemningly, to a young man as he confessed his love and determination to run off with a married woman in the congregation–after which–the tall grandfather clock in the far corner of the study seemed indignant and extra loud, as if it were counting down to the Day of Judgement instead of the new year.

In the thoughtful silence which ensued, the preacher removed his thick glasses, fogged the lenses with his breath, and wiped each slowly with a handkerchief–the one he always used to blot holy sermon sweat from his brow. Swiveling around in a squeaky chair, he reached for the paper tray situated beneath the HP printer he barely knew how to use and retrieved a clean sheet.

“Son, if you came here for my blessing, you certainly don’t have it. But…

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transgressive fiction needs to make a comeback by Bogdan Dragos

 ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ Visit Gobblers/Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy!

Gobblers & Masticadores

he used to write those very intense works about human suffering and degeneracy and the corruption of good souls into evil criminals - Breaking Bad style He hated supranatural stuff in writing. Stayed away from it. “It’s just stupid,” he said. “There’s more than enough magic, both dark and light, into the human heart to keep a reader entertained. You don’t need to invent it, just report it.” And he did in every one of his twelve books but unfortunately not one of them got published He had two agents who saw something in some of his works and tried to sell them, but after numerous failures they both gave up and parted ways with him Apparently it just wasn’t meant to be “It’s the state of today’s world,” he said. “The large majority of people have been reduced to an infantilized status. This generation grows up only with the…

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What’s Prodigal Mean? by Bogdan Dragos

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♡⊂ʕ•ᴥ•⊂ʔ 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

The close up image of a woman hugging a teenage boy with only the lower half of the woman's face showing
Image Source: Canva

he felt a bit guilty

about it

but just

a bit

He knew

it was wrong to

be happy

when father came home

drunk

and stupid

but it was the only time

when mother

came to sleep

in his room,

“because your father

needs to cool

off,” as she put it

It was a good deal

because she

slept in his bed

and let him

suck on

her breasts

and told him

stories

“When I was your age,”

tonight’s

story went,

“I slept in a closet when

daddy came

home drunk. And my only

friend there

was a hanged tie

that looked like

a snake. I would stand on

my toes

and whisper in its ear, tell

it about my day,

about how my life

sucked

and how daddy beat me

and mommy

didn’t want me around either.

The snake tie listened.

It listened to

anything, everything…

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Cum să scapi de fluturii din stomac

( ^◡^)っ English version here!

MasticadoresRumanía Editora: Manuela Timofte

de Bogdan Dragoș

Mi-am vizitat prietena în spital
după operația de apendicită.
Arăta bine
și zâmbetul ei a pus un zâmbet pe fața mea

– Mi-am făcut și o prietenă, zise ea.

Era o altă fată în salon cu ea
și fata asta,
cică a ajuns în spital pentru că ar fi șpreiat un
întreg tub de insecticid într-un pahar
pe care apoi l-a băut.

– De ce? Am întrebat eu.

– Ei bine, zise prietena mea, n-ai înțelege.
Hai doar să spunem că, draga de
ea voia să-și omoare fluturii din stomac.

– Ok... 

Credit: Pinterest

Volume publicate:

https://bogdandragos.com/

Poem postat inițial pe https://gobblersmasticadores.wordpress.com/

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to feel romantic about the writer’s block

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Gobblers & Masticadores

By Bogdan Dragos

48 days without a word written maybe there weren’t exactly 48 but he liked to feel romantic about his writer’s block A good period of writer’s block is one that makes you write about what an incapable writer you are perhaps tomorrow, he thought as he came out of the bathroom and opened the bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass as he watched the snow falling outside Last day during a nap he dreamed that the snow reached all the way to the sixth floor where he lived and he saw his wife and two kids walking on top of it, stopping by his window to check on him It was a funny dream The wife and kids left during the summer that passed and never came back and he tried to make himself guilty for not missing them that much, but failed Now…

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Allergies by Bogdan Dragos

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(๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥ 

MasticadoresIndia // Editora: Terveen Gill

An evil looking gray cat staring ahead from behind a gray blanket
Image Source: Canva

“Are you trying to

kill me?” his mother screamed. “Are

you trying to fucking

kill me!?”

He backed away. “Mom, please.”

“Shut up! You brought

a cat. A cat! Of all things. In the house!

Knowing full well

of my allergies. That is a declaration,

young man. A declaration

that speaks

very loud. You are trying

to kill your own mother, you

insane monster!”

An hour later he

was in his room

caressing the cat’s head

and back

while it lay on his chest

and purred

“Can you believe her?” he

said to the cat

“Hardly,” said the cat. “She was

a monster though. You made

the right choice, baby.”

“When I decided to

keep you?” he asked

“Yes,” said the cat. “And when

you stabbed her in

the chest. You’re such a good boy.

That’s why I love you. And

after I help you calm

down…

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