She returned from the graveyard and went into the store directly. She picked up the axe. Headed for the oak. She struck harshly, heavily, firmly, with the pain of a mother who'd lost everything. Your Father planted it when you were born. Then he left, but it wasn't enough for him, he took you as well because he was lonely. You left me behind with this tree. She talked and struck. With thirst, with hatred, with beads of sweat on her brow, her nape, her soul. The tree groaned, swayed and fell over the house. Collapsed by the broken wall, she laughed madly. What did I even manage with this, because it still hurts like hell.
(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. 
