The boy covered his eyes with his forearm: ten, twenty, three. No no, said the girl, you better write me something beautiful while I hide, when I'm ready I will call you, you say, Ready or not, here I come!, you know, and, when you find me, you let me read it. The boy began to write with such joy that he did not hear the girl's call. He wrote and wrote about everything he knew beautiful, sky and birds, stars, waters and love, leaves and wind. When he stopped, the girl had gone out into the world and the world was laid on paper. He took the pen and began to look for her.
Lucian Domșa
Dex[1] says that graphomania is the pathological tendency to write a lot and without meaning. Now I know I can call my friend a graphoman. His Facebook posts are long, twisted, and hard to follow. After the first two sentences, you get lost in a deep, tangled philosophy and you have to read the text again. At the second reading, you get distracted and the words have no meaning. You scroll the post, read the two ubiquitous words at the end and like it out of politeness, like the others who didn't understand anything either.
[1]Dex - online dictionary similar to Oxford English Dictionary
Mihaela Palaloga
Nothing remarkable happened on the Ark. Meals were served every day at the same time, mating rituals were strictly forbidden, and socialization took place only according to the rule of the ship: no predator on deck after eight in the evening. Peace had been reigning over the sea for months, until the day they saw, drifting, a pirate. They decided it was Christian to help him and welcomed him on board, in their motley family. The next day, the sea resounded with fierce prayers. God, it would be better if You gave us the flood. It was Jack the Graphomaniac.
(Translated by Corina-Alexandra Belu / 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.