She had a thin neck, like a flower's stem. That was all the executioner could see over the blade of the axe. Behind him, a voice read her sentence. She shot daggers at people, she crushed hearts, burned bridges, conquered souls, she perturbed worlds creating new ones and destroying others, she scorched dreams. When he bent over to lift the axe, her perfume invaded his nostrils. Jasmine. It was like a soft breeze at first, then like a gentle wind, eventually intensifying and becoming a storm. He opened his eyes, but the girl was gone.
Georgiana Gabriela Fodor
In the land of Cucurbia, the region of Northern Cumberencia, one night, the currant bush flowers had spread the rumour that the Divine Hand had planted a foreign seed, from which a great king would rise. Merely hearing the name "Fabio" terrified them. That night, the gherkins broke the tendrils, threw themselves on the ground and started a riot. The blender promised to sharpen them for the battle with the Invisible Hand. They spit a few seeds out, but when they arrived under the jasmine shrub, they stood still. Some of them clung to it, spellbound.
Nicolae Popescu
Thousands of hopes are intertwined in the crowd's uproar. But the cries for freedom are suddenly silenced. Water cannons, jets splashed randomly, batons hitting, distorted faces. Ana had shouted along with the others. Now, she's trapped against the building and the blows surround her. She can see his helmet with a visor, the number on it 66, and she raises her arms to protect her head. She's waiting. A pair of strong hands grab her shoulders and pull her out of the maelstrom. He is young, almost a child. He tells her: Run, go, run. Your perfume reminded me of my mother.
(Translated by Ruxandra Adriana Dodoiu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.