27.01.2024
Gabriela Rus
My mother-in-law hasn't spoken to me since I've ruined her precious Persian rug. Obviously, I always wore the overshoes she specifically prepared for guests. I brought her flowers and chocolate. I tried my best to appreciate her Sunday dishes (my God, how I hate that pilaf). We had a little drama in the past; I kidnapped her only lad and taken him to that dump of a city. And I wasn't even cooking anything but salads. But I hoped she had finally got used to the circumstances. And then it happened. Darling? My water broke.

Titela Durnea
I close my eyes. In front of me lies a beach and a tall tent. White one. I hear the rhythm of jazz blues. I unzip the tent. Mom and dad are dancing. It's warm. It's serene. I wander along the shore. The foam caresses my ankles. The horses have gone ahead of me. I try to step into their hoofprints, laughing. I have no idea when you joined me. Shall we dance? you ask. How about we go for a swim instead?, I reply. Clothes slip off, arms smack the water. I've passed the buoy line. Alone. I turn back. I look around for you. Saltier my lips. On the shore, a bay horse passes by. I open my eyes. In her cot, Tania is dreaming.

Sanda Burță
He told me that my eyes were like two deep tarns in which one could drown over and over again. Do you know any down to earth woman who doesn't like hearing that over and over again? Anyway, I let him drown, but that dam' brat knew how to swim, a fine swimmer he was- tarns, rapids or swampy puddles, there was no match for him - the over and over again was truly genuine. I suffered a lot but I'm the type o' girl who learns from \'er own mistakes. Besides, you kno' the saying, water for the fish, liquor for the men[1], but please, have another piece of pie, of course I made it myself, cherries from my mamma's garden, by the way, do you know how to swim?

[1] Wordplay - from the Romanian idiom "Morții cu morții, vii cu vii", lit. translated as "The dead stay with the dead, the living stay with the living" - it's usually used when trying to encourage people who lost someone close. The author replaced \'the dead' with \'fish', thus referencing her lover, who probably left her.


(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)


Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In September 2023, the group has 11,820 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)

Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.

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