I cut polenta with a string, spread the old hen in the garlic sauce and chew. I think he ran through the weft two hours ago. Then we caressed him in the tall meadow grass. I can still feel his warm mouth. I swallow when my mother says: It's the last time you're late. I can marry you without dancing hora. With my eyes on the bowl, I did not tremble at the brothers' elbows. You can calm down that you will got married on the hill. The priest's boy is out of your league, girl. I look up and, from the hill, the buckthorn berries fence begins to rise to the sky.
(Translated by Ana-Maria Mușetescu / 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 December 2021, the group has 7.750 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. 
