Scarecrow

Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
The church was on the outskirts of the city. Behind it was a greenfield. They had tried to build a mall, but everything they built would crumble the next day. Then there spawned a scarecrow. And another one. And another one. The priest would water them every day. What are you doing, father? The people were asking. If their souls were to dry, we wouldn't be here anymore. But they're hay people, father. No, they're people of the earth. If they went back into the soil, we would soon follow. They cut them with their axes. In the morning, the priest was staring at an empty field where some traces of steps could be seen.

Silvia Ștefan
The straw man gazes into the distance with his arms wide open. It seems like he would want to cover the entire Earth, not only the field that's in his care. His shabby hat hides half of his forehead and his right eye. The wind had misaligned it during the last storm. Near the hill that merges with the horizon sleeps the old house. Leaning on its fence is the straw woman. There was a time when they were lovers and the squire ruled over the entire estate. I wonder, does she wear the rusty brooch on her woollen vest? He had sent it to her recently through the homing pigeon.

Laura Stanciu
The German class for the 5th grade class B was on Thursdays. One of the students would be on a lookout. When the teacher's silhouette appeared at the end of the hallway, he would shout Achtung. Frau Sotir would advance slowly, keeping her head slightly tilted, holding the class register under the arm on which she carried her purse, like a ship docking in a port. When she would enter the classroom, everyone would freeze. Three of the students' names started with an A. Each of them would repeat their names in their thoughts. Aman, Ariton, Asaloș. She would slowly go overthe pages, as if she were alsoreading their address. She would go through the register in silence, while also glancing around the room. Then she would start teaching.

(Translated by Laurențiu-Gabriel Niculae / 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 October 2023, the group has 11,950 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.