
At 1 AM she screamed
for daddy to
come quick, quick
and look under the bed
There were noises
and growls there,
she told him
Daddy turned the light on
sighed
dropped to his knees
and crawled to the edge of
her bed
Lifted the sheets
looked under
and felt the knife plunge
into his nape
His body dropped to
the floor and
struggled a bit before
giving a final breath
She threw the blanket
over him
and climbed off
dropped to her knees
and looked under the bed
with a grin
“It’s all right,” she said, “you
can come out now.”
But there was
no one
and nothing to
come out
that fucker lied
again!
Just like with the hamster
and then the dog
now it was
her father
What or who
will be next?
She lay down
on her belly
and knocked the butt
of the knife against the
floor
“You filthy liar!” she
shouted into the
space under the bed. “It’s the
last time I trust
you.
But please… don’t stop
talking to me. I will never
again believe what you say
but… don’t stop
talking, alright?”
-BOGDAN DRAGOS
Bogdan Dragos supervises casinos for a gambling company, working twelve-hour shifts locked in a dark office full of TV monitors. There he mostly daydreams and writes poems and stories. He also manages a poetry blog Daydreaming as a profession.

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Bogdan takes family matters to a bloody extreme. A daughter and her companion beneath the bed, hungry for blood. There’s always a point of contemplation when reading this poet’s poetry. Is there really an evil entity lurking in the darkness or is a girl hallucinating and feeding her unbalanced mind with imaginary conversations? I’m not sure I really want to know. But who will be the next unsuspecting victim? Stick around for some more dark writing…
Congratulations Bogdan!
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Thank you, Terveen! (V●ᴥ●V)
Once more, I have to point out how incredibly well the picture you picked goes with the text. It communicates right away that there’s a great danger in making imaginary friends a bit too real…
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Reblogged this on Daydreaming as a profession.
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Loved this scary creepy tale. I like the way you switch things around and get us every time at the end. Great writing. I wonder how may people had things they were truly afraid of at night?
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Thank you, Joni!
I see it happens quite often lately. I begin writing something wholesome and somewhere along the way everything twists in yet another nightmare. In the past I could help it, but not so much today (happens too naturally, I guess). And many times I end up with something I’m really not sure I should share, but do so anyway. And then… the horror…
/╲/\╭(ఠ్ఠఠ్ఠ_ఠ్ఠఠ్ఠ)╮/\╱\
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I’m going to be creeped out all day. Seriously. Shit. What the hell?
Bogdan, I’m trying to finish writing a romance and whenever I fall for the constant temptation to read your latest, your excellent and abnormal poems mess with my mind! I’m going to have to save my readings of you for later in the day,.
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Haha, perhaps it’s a subtle sign that your romance should take a dark twist (mine always do…).
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
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Laughing! Thanks to your literary infiltration into my mind (a demon possessed Bukowski), I might not have a choice!
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Wow, that part about the dad being stabbed, I didn’t see that coming. Nice post!
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Thanks!
I guess the dad didn’t see it either…
(*゚∀゚)つ¤=[]::༼ X_لX ༽::>
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Excellent read!
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ʕ ᵒᴥᵒʔ Thank you!
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