Caught in the holidays' magic, Death put its finger on the map and decreed: here. It ended up in the East and immediately regreted not having cheated; he would have wanted an exotic Christmas. The next day, after the slaughter, he came out of the tent pitched on the battlefield, smoked a cigarette and sipped coffee. Then he looked up to admire the completed work. A howl went through the camp as Death saw the field of corpses turned into a field of poppies. What the hell is this, Death screamed furious at the Great Counselor. A kind of, came a mute answer of shattered glass.
(Translated by Ana Spînu / 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. 
