If you tell the priest your sins, ostensibly Lord forgives you. They call it confession. So, he asked Ana if he could tell the priest something, but she laughed, hehe, the young rascal, what sins do you have, hehe? That's what she said, young rascal, some confession would do her good as well, she said it resentfully, but she proceeded nevertheless. Father, I stole a marker, mine was no longer useful and my mother started laughing again last evening I drew a flower out of the bruises of her hand, there is also a sun and a cloud. Will Lord forgive me?
Laura Stanciu
The Golem of the Wiesels stood quietly, waiting for the daily orders. Moulded out of red clay, according to a recipe from a mystical book. It had a human form and it was 145cm tall. It had grown half a metre over the last year. Its name was written on its forehead in Hebrew. Emet. Today you have to do the cleaning, Sara told it. You'll take care of the house and the garden. You need to finish it within four hours. Sara sized him up with a glance. It wouldn't be long before it surpassed her in height. By then, she would have to erase the first letter, then it would be Met, which meant dead.
Clara Marinescu
He plants his heel in your feeble shadow, while his eyes boldly explore other shadows. Other bodies, other lips, other hair, just shadows. But you? You see them all yet you stay silent. Now you're sewing him a sock, while he snores in front of the television, with the beer bottles by the bed. You smile gently as you draw him a moustache with the marker and sprinkle talcum under the armpit of the suit that he is going to wear tonight. In this petty marriage, that's what brings you the most joy You defeat him using his weapons, my dear fool.
(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / 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.