About a thousand years ago, one summer, I fell asleep on a rhetorical tango by Seicaru. Today I wake up on Hrusca leaves, and it's autumn. There is no more electricity, running water or heating. Computers and telephones are dead antiques. I spin a vinyl record with my finger and the pickup needle squeaks a song. Without a brass funnel, I wasn't smart enough to keep them from when they were gone. Poets died, singers perished. I sing, then I'll shut up too.
(Translated by Emilia-Georgiana Călinescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / 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 November 2021, the group has 7.500 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 Ficțiuni Reale. 
