06.03.2024
Nicolae Popescu
I can hear his Guban shoes on the stairs. I hide the colourful magazine and take out the Romanian textbook. The clatter of the key, the door opens and closes quickly. I catch the smell from outside immediately: potato and dill stew. She comes in. She puts down the heavy cloth/tote bags. She has a high bun and a yellow poplin dress with flowers and bows on her shoulders. Her smile warms the room more than its squinty bulb. She comes towards me with open arms. I dip my nose into her dress. Mmm, that's nice, I inhale the scent of lily-of-the-valley. I lift my eyes: hello/my respects, mother, what have you brought me?

Florentina Ghițescu
I hope you don't think you're coming with me dressed like that? The old woman looked at herself in the mirror, her white hair contrasting with the flowery dress and the yellow beads/pearls she couldn't part with. The black shoes didn't quite fit, but they were very comfortable. It's a funeral, Grandma. Sweet girl, she must think I'm insane. I wish she'd discover love. I know, my dear, on the way to the cemetery we must stop for red roses and don't forget to take the record player because I want to listen to our song one more time, Grandpa would love it.

Ionuț Tuhoarcă
I once went to a striptease club. Beautiful girls. I was fourt'n springs old. I couldn't pronounce fourteen. I had a tooth gap. Speaking of which, I want to say hi to my high school girlfriend, Nicole. Remember, girl[1], when I was smoking in the looand you smiled at me, girl. When you showed me your ass and said. That's my job, girl. I got two kids, girl. With someone you don't know. Antonio and Tinel. That's the little one. Here's the picture. Happy family, girl. What was I saying? Striptease? That was nice.

[1]The actual Romanian term is more familiar, informal, could be even considered disrespectful or derogatory. 

(Translated by Alina Bâznă / 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.

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