Gheorghiță Mircea
I know I'm not living, I'm a criminal, sentenced to life in prison. Living in another world, I have 4 square meters, that's all I'm allowed now to stretch my world. Yes, but no one can take my dreams. As soon as I fall asleep, I leave the fallen walls one by one. I return to my forest, my green universe, where I am the master and have no restrictions. I sit by the roadside and wait. I know another little girl will come, seeking the quiet of the forest and finding what she secretly desires: the fantastic happiness of fear. I will free her from a life devoid of the thrill of horror.
Titela Durnea
You have to sit like a hook, Mircea whispered to me. I can't, I can't fit my right arm. Bend your head and arch your back. Leave the girl alone, don't drive her crazy with your nonsense, said Aunt Rozi with a hoarse voice. I blushed from head to toe and, ambitiously, I stretched like a pretzel so I fit into the painted tire. And now? I ask Mircea, scared. It should work, he whispers in my ear. Leaning over, his mouth gaping with a smile, he said puckishly Press engage, Lora. On the chest. And I got lost in those eyes.
Nelida Holban
I sit on my knees with my hands outstretched in call or perhaps prayer and try to catch your gaze, to read something in it. You're angry, and your eyes look past me. I would caress you, I would call out to you, but I know you don't care. Now you want to be alone, and I have no place next to you. What's that world you're hiding in like? Is it beautiful? I think so, because there's no lying and betrayal. I want to teach you to be you, to help you hold me, so you can dream, child. It's hard, but give me your hand. We're starting the therapy session.
(Translated by Andreea Ciubuc / 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.