The old, slumpy, that lost his mind and the years counting. The onlyevidence of the passage of time was the long white beard, adorned like a fir tree with colored vomit pearls. It was the year since the last bath. Since he discovered alcohol, he could no longer stand water. He had a few wishes: A wife, children, a simple life, common joys. This fucking job had destroyed them all. Now he only had one. A bottle of Singleton whiskey. As he laughed, Santa began to write a letter to Santa Claus.
(Translated by Laura-Elena Dobrin / 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 March 2023, the group has 10,790 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, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale. 
