It was cold. And everything had frozen. Wearing felt slides and an imitation of a coat, she stood in a street corner. She was old, and had wet herself. Her eyes were fixed on the sky. A street child approached her and looked up. A young girl was sitting on a cloud, dangling her legs. Is that you? the kid asked. Then take my hand and let's fly to the sky. It's not me. Me, I'm not me. The road to heaven is closed to me. My thoughts will lead me straight to hell. He offered her a slice of bread. Eat. Your waters have not yet cleared. Not yet.
Mihaela Palaloga
I don't know what came over me. Well, actually, I do, but how do I explain it to the folks at the park? That I wasn't in my element? I had the biggest pool, a dedicated caretaker, and fish aplenty. Yet, something was missing, something greater that I couldn't grasp with my eyes, but I felt I could do with my heart. The plan was to break free and reach the ocean, so I can see and touch it. I'm no longer satisfied by applause and cheap tricks. I want to find my element. Farewell, esteemed colleagues, farewell, dear audience. Signed, Coco the seal.
Georgiana Gabriela Fodor
Shut the hell up, you wretch, swallow it down. Curse you and whoever gave birth to such filth. The child was just receiving sedatives. My bed neighbour. His name is Arvinte. Nonverbal. He's immobile. I'm 47, with a mental retard, and many years of hospitalization ahead. We're still around the nursing home. We struggle to move in unclear waters. When we're hungry, we receive harsh beatings. We satiate quickly, swallowing again a mixture of tears and blood. Arvinte, kill those damn flies, can't you see they're on your back? You carry them along as well, isn't your cross heavy enough?
(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.