My saint is drunk and erupts lava all over me. From now on, you are no longer my child. I'm 6, I worship my father. He stopped me on the street and wants me to tell him where my mother is. I'm crying tears of dew and keep my silence. He killed my mother yesterday, she lies with her neck cut on the threshold. A phone murder, committed by a delirium tremens. Now mother's alive again, and he looks for her, mad. I hide her in the deepest universe of mine, and the Saint alcoholic screams my end. 2, 1, impact. Tomorrow I'll reborn, from shattered comets. Without my father, but with all of him in mind. I never forget him, never.
(Translated by Oana-Roxana Dicilea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In July 2021, the group has 6.800 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, and Luchian Abel. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale. 
