On the deserted beach nothing ever happens. The sea murmurs in her continuous coming and going, the wind randomly blasts away water and sand, the moon shatters shadows over the lonesome hut, the stars fall as soon as you look at them. Sometimes you can die of boredom. And sometimes, like now, the sun cruelly glazes a body left on the bank by the ebb. My heart starts pounding, as if it were holiday and guests are coming over. I get closer and my eyes start searching: what did it bring me, what did it bring me. Something shines on a finger. I happily raise my axe.
Vlad Mușat
I lit up a cigar and poured myself a glass of whiskey. I'm signing the contract in two hours. From here, from my headquarters, you can see the whole city. I turn on the TV. On one channel there's Captain Planet, one of my favourite childhood cartoons. Earth, Fire, Wind, Water, Heart. All of my childhood friends with whom I played superheroes died young. Cancer. My business associate's car has arrived at the firm. Rigged auctions, tax evasion, mistresses, holidays, I have only one life. Captain Obvious.
Denisse Oana Rădoi
She wore a free verse scarf around her neck and danced in a ring-shaped hora[1]. She stood out because she was the only bald teenager in town. Every day he wrote her poems by Minulescu or classics on napkins. One autumn day, he told her November rhymes with Remember. Remember us. So he gave her a ring made of green tin. She still wears it now, he forgot her like a mundane fact. Her love turned from painful to crippling, then to a source of strength and regeneration. Because, Afterall, the word LOVICTORY was engraved on the ring.
[1] Hora is a traditional Romanian and Moldovan folk dance where the dancers hold each other's hands and the circle spins.
(Translated by Raluca Sălcianu / 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.