The covered wagons were set at the shade of a clump of trees, and the horses grazed across the field. The children were running naked next to the old gypsy women that were preparing the pots for lunch. The sun was burning ruthlessly from the early hours of the morning. The younger ones were roaming the alleys searching for old, unused objects and used clothes. Many villagers chased them away from their gates, telling them that they had nothing to give, that they use the clothes until they are torn apart and could not be mended.
Vero Anttheia Teodoru
Diana Nemorensis received an invitation from IonȚ to come to a hunting trip. Why not? She dressed modern in leather trousers and a white jacket over the bra. She took the bow and quiver of arrows then teleported to Balc. A spectacular entrance. Everyone was shocked. The host's surprise left them breathless. They didn't even know how to behave with such a being. One more courageous peeked out as she changed into her camouflage suit. He was instantly turned into a wild boar. Immediately they started the hunt.
Florina Hegedüs
The pits let me know where we are even with my eyes closed, like always. We're driving. The driver is munching on a sandwich with tomatoes and pork sausage, like always, me, not in a mood, I look in the rear-view mirror, at shops, young girls in minis, aunties in frocks, braided vests, men with berets on bikes, wagons, cows in the middle of the street, like always. Angry men with luggage beside a bus that caught on fire. We're driving, at the radio Funky Town is buzzing and we're greeted with fireworks but not like in Vietnam, no, here, closer to us. Like always.
(Translated by Maria-Ilinca Darie / 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.