Tag: fantasy

poets and happy endings

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"When you no longer
see the shadow of what
kept you strong
it's time to let go."

Those would be the last words
he wrote
at the back of the notebook
he filled with thoughts
and rants
and poems

‘Thoughts That Come From
The Heart’
was the title

and the work will remain
for long after he'd
pass away

At least that was the plan

But alas,
as he gave his final breath the
cigarette rolled from his fingers
to the desk and all the way
down on the shaggy carpet

It was a matter of minutes
until the
whole room became
a snapshot from the inferno

It's almost like the gods
want to send
a message. They want to
say that poets
rarely
if ever
have happy endings

I'm starting to
believe that
more and
more as
the days pass
25

before the leap

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so this is it then

He stood by the margin of the ravine

looked down

took a deep breath

looked behind him

no shadowy figure reaching

out

no pale silhouette making stop motions

no apparition telling him to

not jump

Of course,

what the hell was he thinking? These

things don’t happen outside

of stories

Stories like the one he was reviewing

on his phone

while driving

with his pregnant wife in the passenger

seat

the crash happened at

the moment he tapped send

and just yesterday he got a response

from the editor

saying it was a great story and they will

definitely publish it

There was no “Thank you” reply from him

just an “I’m sorry” and “I love you” on

his wife’s social media

before taking the leap
7

town of forgotten poets

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there he was 
arriving on main street
carrying a backpack
and a suitcase 

both stuffed with
papers

“WELCOME TO THE TOWN
OF FORGOTTEN POETS.”
said the shadows that
watched from the 
windows
of nearby buildings

He didn’t like the 
sound of their
voices

but he sighed 
and dragged his
tired feet along 

they were almost as
tired as his soul
and just as hurt

He'll have to live on the
streets,
for the town
was overpopulated
14

I am birds

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the other night she went to
sleep 
listening to 
subliminal audios

and woke up in the morning
saying, “I am birds. Many, many
birds trapped together in
a bag of silk. This thing
that the world looks
at and calls my body is but 
a bag of silk
that traps birds inside. I am not
the bag. A bag isn’t alive. I 
am the birds inside the bag. And
I must get out!” 

She ran into 
the bathroom

Her father shrugged. “Fuckin’ shit,”
he said, shaking his head. 
“To think that she could’ve
been a doctor, or a lawyer, or
an engineer. She could’ve
been anything. But she 
chose to study
creative writing in college. Now
she’s a poetess... 
and we are no more than
characters lost
in her verses.”
20

dream eating fish by Bogdan Dragos

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j re crivello's avatarGobblers by Masticadores

the police found her on the porch steps with the shotgun laid across her lap the roof was burning behind her and she was talking about fish “My head's starving,” she was saying. “The fish... they ate all my dreams. Fuckers think they can just swim around eating people's dreams when they please. Swim away from me.” She had no reaction as the cops came to take her shotgun away and restrain her. Just kept talking about fish and how they swim around and eat people's dreams There are many others like her in town and all over the world and it's not even the worst case scenario The worst of the worst are those who make the fish starve because they no longer have dreams to be eaten These people are all over the place, yet the news never mentions them There's nothing to talk about them Only to…

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2

genius level trap

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they didn’t think
about it.
That’s the problem, kids usually
don’t plan ahead,
they live in the moment

they just saw a movie
and wanted
to imitate the actors
because they thought what the
actors did was cool

The actors hunted wild
animals through
the jungle
and to do so they built traps
all over the place

They emulated the actors but
the only animal that fell
in their trap
was their pregnant mother. Using
the back door to
come into the yard
she tripped over the wire
they set and
fell
face first into the
knife blades that stuck out from the
ground as they buried the
handles in.

The trap was genius level

The therapist would have to be
so as well
9

join in the silence

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There was indeed silence now

Oh, and it's been but days
since the screams
cracked the windows
and the thrown bottles stripped
the walls of their paint
and the curses made the
gods cringe and cover their ears

The house of madness
no longer lived up to its name

For she was finally gone
and he was left
with the echoes

"C'mon, dare me to down it!" were
her words as she opened
the last bottle

And his were, "Bitch, you're mad!"

"Dare me, motherfucker! Dare me
to down this here bottle. You
don't think I can, do you? Ah, you
slime-gutted piece of
shit."

"I'm telling you to knock
it the fuck out already! I'll bury
yer fuckin' eyes in, see if
I won't."

But she was already
pouring down her throat. She
had this talent that
allowed her to drink without
swallowing. Pouring
down her throat was like pouring
down the sink. No choking

And then she'd hurl
the empty bottle with terrible aim
and break it against the
walls, planting shards all over the carpet

and then
finally
she'd be waiting in the
bedroom

But not today

Today she was no more
and all that was left of her were
the echoes of curses

The neighborhood was
probably celebrating

And her man
stood by the broken window,
a bottle of her favorite vodka
in one hand
and a fistful of painkillers in
the other

She no longer awaited him
in the bedroom
but underground
and he could already hear her
greeting words as he washed the
painkillers down with the vodka

"Took you long enough, asshole.
Now where's my goddamn
drink?"
8

Sticle goale de vin

English translation ---> HERE
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2

to terminate a storm

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It became more and more
obvious
There was a storm inside her

growing ever stronger

and she sought
to terminate it
before it was too late

It's arguably more difficult to
terminate such storms
when you're fifteen
and still living with your parents

so she decided not to
share her struggle
with them
and reached inside her
for the eye of the storm
with a steel wire she'd kept in
a bottle of hand sanitizer for a day
and a night

Yes, the first raindrops painted the
white of the bathtub

they were crimson
and salty

like her tears
13

And the undead were memories by Bogdan Dragos

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Visit Gobblers & Masticadores and find more writings you can enjoy! Thanks! 
(ゝ◡･)ﾉ♡

j re crivello's avatarGobblers by Masticadores

“I don't take a lot with me when I go cave exploring,” she said. “And I do go quite often. And I do go quite deep. It's because I always manage to find something there. Not something material, but a feeling. It's hard to explain. Like Mother Earth herself holds you in a very tight embrace. Like she's squeezing you back inside the place you came from. And above all, there's of course the thrill. The thrill of knowing that you might no longer be able to get out of there. Ever. I love that. It's like the opposite of claustrophobia. I get aroused by feeling trapped. Squeezed. About to have the air squeezed from my lungs.” And there was no one, not her parents, not her friends or the strangers she spoke to over the internet. No one who could convince her that on her last trip she didn't…

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4

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