As she woke up, she heard the rapid bowing of the violin, a mosquito hovering. Then she noticed the subtitles. snapsus ed ănilp ăcizuM. He read slowly, the bow shrieked closer. What the hell is this? he shouted and the echo answered and the subtitle, a third echo,?atsa e abian eC. Where am I? Where am I??tnus ednU Around them only black walls. High above there seems to be light, he said. He took the subtitle and stuck it to the wall. He climbed, letter by letter, the violin cracking his eardrums, and, BOOMBOOMBOOM, up the black platform he stumbled into a huge glass fish.
Andrei Lămureanu
Awful, she turned her head, pursing her lips in a gesture of disgust. Yet her gaze remained as if caught by a magnet. He danced awkwardly in his bare skin, humming in falsetto, shaking a frying pan with his left hand. His right hand was tapping imaginary quarters quite correctly, fork in the air, while the oil bounced like an artesian. Large splashes caught him with a hot gust and his dance became a bold tap dance, while the steps became a chaotic semiquaver. You're a moron, you know that? she said. I love you. You do the cleaning.
Georgiana Gabriela Fodor
I have no idea how I ended up watching Twin Peaks, I must have fallen in love with the wrong person. I was 15 years old. The dancing, the night, the murder, the hallucinations turned me into a mystery devourer. Actually, the whole secret behind it all was the soundtrack. One night, listening to The Nightingale, I turned into a nightingale. He didn't recognise me, he had no mentor like Popeyed or Birdie to help him. So I tied my tears by the full moon and disappeared. Since then, I only collect true hearts.
(Translated by Andreea Georgiana Bogdan / 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.