A Bouquet of Blood Roses by Bogdan Dragos

Image Source: Canva

even the full moon

felt like a

spotlight above him

It made him

sweat in

the cold night

as he

wandered the streets

Nothing too out of

the ordinary

about him. Just an

average guy

wearing average clothes

and carrying a

rather thick strand of hair

in his breast pocket

crimson red

and long as a

forearm

He would hold on

to it for

the rest of his life,

no doubt about it

Surely it was a thing that

he could take

along even

if he would be dragged into

prison,

which was definitely not

out of the

question at this time

His tired pacing

directed

him away from the main

streets

and towards the back

alleys

where he stopped

before a dumpster and

knelt

and held the crimson

strand of hair in his palms

like a crushed flower,

watering it with

his tears

as he began to pray

aloud

It was a prayer that

begged

forgiveness

Not from any god

but the woman

that would’ve been his wife

had he not

plucked the hair

from her scalp

after she found out that

he’d lost all the

money for the wedding

at the slot machines

It’s known that gambling is

like drugs. It can

drive a man crazy

crazy enough to

grab his fiance’s hair from

across

the table as he gets home

with no money

and she starts scolding him

He pulled a bit too

hard and

the hair came loose

and he was left in awe,

holding on to those crimson

strands like

a bouquet of

blood roses plucked from

hard ground. The kind

of flowers you

give as a parting gift

“Strike me down

right now!” he shouted

to the dark skies. “I beg

you!”

And a reply came

from inside the

dumpster he

was facing

A whimper

like that of a crying child

He froze in

place and watched as

a head popped up

from the dumpster

and two round eyes

gazed at him

A dog

It looked at him

for a few

more heartbeats and then

leaped out of

the dumpster and ran

away into the darkness

Another head came up

from the dumpster

shortly afterwards. This

time human, though

it looked more like a beast

than the

dog did

“Hey,” said the beast-man, “can’t

a man make love

to his bitch

in this city without being

cock-blocked by

some whiny-ass

wimp crying

to the skies? Get a hold

of yourself, man.

Shit, you’re pathetic. Get

the fuck outta here.”

The beast-man

dragged himself out of

the dumpster

and walked away

following the dog’s trail

He was left there

staring into

the cold

darkness

still sweaty

still thinking that no matter

what went on

around the block

he was still

the most

miserable character

in this

miserable city

The full moon

agreed

with him

-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.

We would love to read your work. Interested? Please READ our SUBMISSION GUIDELINES.

-MASTICADORESINDIA