The little girl was playing in the sand. She was building castles. The waves crashed against the dunes that served as walls. Her mother was reading on a sun lounger. The uncle has cakes for you, a man's voice was heard. What kind of cakes? the curious little eyes wondered. What kind do you like? His grin quirked a greedy frown at the memory of the last slice of sponge cake she ate. A cake with whipped cream and fruit. Fine. Come with me. The sign they passed read: Don't leave children unattended. There's a baker in the area.
Andreea Luise Stana
Hello? Can you hear me now? It must have cut out, I'm not getting much reception here. What was I saying? Yeah, the sand's black. Really, like your hair. I'm staying a few hundred meters away from this beach. It's cold and quiet. Legend has it that a guy proposed to his girlfriend here, and when she said no, he jumped into the waves and drowned. What a thing, killing yourself for love. What if I did that for you? No, but I'd like to do it together. Don't you think it would be romantic? Can you hear me? Shit, it cut out again.
Marilena Demian
He looks again at the blue stretch. Please, I'll give you anything. I give you my soul, I have nothing better, help him. He looked at the frail little boy sitting on the bank, his chest basket too big, limply wielding a shovel through the sand. The child smiled broadly at him. They had been at the seaside for three weeks; the doctor had told him it was his last chance. Please, let him grow up, I'll give him to you as a sailor, even if I never see him again. I know you can. Take me. He closed his eyes. Come on, woman, get on the Titanic.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / 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.