vomiting snake by Bogdan Dragos

j re crivello's avatarMasticadoresAfrica

 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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no country for romantic men

and the few survivors who couldn’t
fight 
were lined up
along with the civilians
and shot
or killed in ways to entertain the soldiers
And dogs were trained to
tear them to shreds 
and the ground became black with
their soaked blood
and over the next few days a carpet of
butterflies gathered on top of it

“It’s beautiful,” he said

She didn’t pay attention. Was too busy
removing golden teeth
from a severed head 
she held in her lap. “Dammit, whoever made these
implants did too good a job. I’ve
to take ‘em with gums, alright. Look, my
knife keeps slipping.” 

“Stab his eyes please,” he said

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s looking at us. I can’t 
stand it.”

“Jeez, you’re such a pussy.” She quickly
stabbed the blade into
the head’s eyes one after the other. “Better?” 

“Whatever,” he said. “Just hurry up 
and pull those teeth.” 

“I’m trying. If I had better tools though…”

He was silent for 
a long time and then
he cleared his throat and said, “Hey, so… now that this
shitty war is over… like, what are you
gonna do with your life?” 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Get myself a few
gold teeth as extra spoils and
go back home. My mom wants
me to marry this
fat guy from the neighboring village. I probably
will then I’ll shit him out a few
kids and… well, grow old and die, I guess.” 

“What? Is that it? That’s all?”

She looked at him with
a grin. “Hey, don’t worry, you’re still
getting some. Just wait until
tonight, okay?” 

“Dammit, that’s not what the heck
I meant. I meant… you know, there’s gotta be
more to life than just… just 
getting married, making kids, and dying.” 

“Really? Well, what are you
gonna do then?”

“I’m… gonna write. About it all. The war
and… everything.” 

“Write? Like, a book? A story?” 

“Yeah. It’s been my dream
since before the war started. Now I’ve the
experience to write about.”

“Bullshit experience,” she said. “Who in the fuck
d’you think will wanna read that? 
What’s the story gonna say? How you 
killed the enemy? Poisoned their wells? Raped
their women and enslaved their children? 
Stuck twigs down the dick holes of
prisoners and broke them inside for fun?”

“Hey, I never did any of that.” 

“But you were there when the
others did it. And did nothing to stop them.
It counts as--”

“Fuck! Okay, you’re right. Writing a book
about this would be
a terrible idea. Thanks.”

“Shit, look, I got one. This is solid gold. 
Two more to go.” 

He sighed. “Listen…”

“Yeah?”

“About that marriage of yours…”

“Yeah? What about it?”

“Well, let’s just say… I mean, you know…”

“Fuckin’ spit it out already!”

“Don’t marry that fat guy from
the neighboring village! Fuck, I said it.”

“Oh? And marry you instead?” 

“Well…”

“Y’know, the fat guy from the neighboring village
is the son of a fairly rich butcher. Family
business. And you… Your father’s the
drunk who hung himself to avoid paying 
back his debts. You see the conflict here, I hope.” 

“So all you care about is money?”

“Why wouldn’t I care about money? I want to
live good, thank you very much. This is 
the real world, not some
romantic story. Wake up. I gotta make the
rational decision.” 

“I thought we had… something.” 

“Yeah, we fucked a few times cuz’ there
was nothing better to do. And we’ll
fuck again tonight, sure. But 
that don’t mean we’re lovers now. Look, you’re
a nice guy. I’m sure you’ll find
love back at home. You don’t need a bitch
like me. I mean, if you think I’m not
gonna screw other guys
behind my husband’s back, you’re seriously trippin, boy. 
So think about it, that could’ve been you. Would
you want that?”

“No, I suppose not.” 

“Good. Well then, let’s get these teeth
and go have some ale. It’s on me.”

She stood and with her hand
soiled with blood
she reached out and pinched his cheek
and stretched it to force 
a smile on his face. “C’mon, cheer up, damn you!
We still have a life ahead of us. Let’s
fuckin’ live it.” 

“Yeah… let’s.” 

Hey, if you enjoyed this lovely love story and would not be bothered to see more, please consider subscribing by typing your e-mail address below. I swear there’ll be no spam. Just more heartwarming stories (^_^)
Thank you.

songless bird

a songless bird

that would be the nicest
name she’d been
called

the others,
far more common,
being
that little wench
your bastard kid
the little rat
useless piece of shit that came outta you
and others

She liked the term
songless bird
It was a title worthy of her in
all the good and the
bad ways

The songless bird stands
locked in her room
and knocks and waves in
the window
for she has no voice to sing

She gives silent cries to the
neighbors and
the passersby when the noises
from the other side of
her door
get too violent

or when it smells
of smoke

Which happens
every now
and then

hope she’s okay wherever she is

she kept saying how much she
hated her tattoos

and kept showing them
to us

"Got 'em when I was young and
dumb and now I
jus' wanna rip my skin off."

She pulled her skirt up
to show one on her inner thigh. "Ugh, look at 
this one. It's supposed to
be a bottle of Jack but looks
like a wrinkly dick that's about to
get in. Shit, and this one… This one
looks more like a cunt than
an eye, really." She kept pulling her
skirt up farther and farther
until it became very
clear that she
had no underwear

"You wanna touch it? she'd ask
from time to time

It was funny cuz she was in her late
twenties and we
were kids. I was twelve if I remember right

She probably got a kick
out of making young boys horny 

It validated her
and we had not a damn thing to object

Good times

“the veins” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

Phil Slattery's avatarThe Chamber Magazine

Something wasn’t quite right in this small, barren room. The man sitting across the square table, dressed in a white coat, seemed a little to calm for someone in reaching distance.

‘I could just reach for that bald head and snap the neck real nice,’ he thought as he watched the man. ‘What does he want from me? More questions?’

It was indeed more questions.

“So,” said the man in the white coat, “if you are ready to speak, I am ready to listen. I am here for you.”

“How come you’re still alive?” he asked the man.

And the man answered, “What do you mean?”

“Are you one of the few who adapted?”

“Adapted? That’s interesting. Please, explain. What do you understand through this adaptation you speak of?”

He shrugged. “I just… thought I’m the only one who adapted. To the new life.”

“I see. And what about your…

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“A spider web full of butterflies. Shaking in the wind” Short Story by Bogdan Dragos

Phil Slattery's avatarThe Chamber Magazine

She stretched on the bed and reached with her long leg and placed her foot on his desk, before him, on the notebook he was writing in.

“Wow,” she said. “Your place is so small, like a box of matches. And so empty. So lonely. Why don’t you ever have anyone over? I never see or hear you talking to people. Why must you be like that?”

“I don’t like people,” he said.

“Why?”

“Don’t ask silly questions. For the same reason I don’t like hotdogs. I just don’t like them.”

“Do you like me?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know a lot of things, boy. I came to you because… I wanted to have a place from which I’d be missed if I left. I thought the heart of someone as lonely as you would be…

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