I remember us. Me, just a kid, and you, a freshman. I had stepped on a seashell and the splinter left in my foot made me limp. "Let me help you," you said, setting down the guitar you played for me at. Everything started at the seaside. And it continued back home for almost two years. With you waiting for me to finish my classes, walks in the park, singing, with your Carpați cigarettes and their bitter taste, with my father's tender eyes and your mother's pancakes. And then Celelalte Cuvinte[1] brought you fame. As for me, someone else made me fall in love. Through words.
[1] Celelalte Cuvinte is a Romanian rock band founded in 1981, back when the founding members were still students at the Politehnica University of Timișoara. The band's name would literally translate to "The Other Words." At the end of the text, the author intends to create a wordplay: "The Other Words" (the band) made him famous, while someone else made her fall in love again through the witty use of words.
Gabriel Rusu
It gloriously fell, without the sound of cracking. We leaped on it with axes like some barbarians. We pruned its branches then began to section its trunk. The entire forest, horrified by all the sap gushing from its insides mourned the terrible loss. A sharp prick stopped me. I lit a cigarette while trying to remove with my nails the splinter deeply rooted in my palm. My eyes darted to one of the logs, to its age rings. They were beyond counting. I poured a few drops of water onto the ground. Farewell, old one.
Mihaela Scânteie
She couldn't recall much of that night. Not the biting cold, nor the gripping fear, nor the struggle of the fight. All that remained was the very moment when she grabbed a chunk of wood and struck him. A blow to the head. That he fell right after. That she ran away. She made it home and washed herself up. She burned her clothes and attempted to burn the haunting memories. A partially successful attempt. She armoured herself with protective layers of indifference. Then reinforced them with layers of dissociation and doubt. Before and after being raped. Before and after the crime. The only layers of the armour which were too tight were the layers of acceptance. In the right palm, the mark had melded, as if it had always belonged to her, an indelible part of her being.
(Translated by Marian-Cătălin Niculăescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.