She stuck to it like to herself and found herself in the smell of dried blood. They could no longer sense it. She'd patched up, by touch, all its cracks. Nothing could penetrate the wall plastered with foetid sludge, decanted out from the pain that'd been eating away at her since the first stage of division, when her soul knew it would become captive, like a wild horse trapped in barbed wire. Nobody would ever hear her again. She mustered up her strength and let out a heart-wrenching howl to the Moon that climbed up from her chest for the last time. Mother.
(Translated by Andreea Teodorescu-Colciu / 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 May 2023, the group has 11,260 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. 
