His Harley honk awakes all of the devils who lurk at Heaven's door. The old ladies from the apartment building come to their windows, waiting for lustful kisses. I put my cigarette out on my wrist, I gargle with the last sip of whisky and I put my black studded leather jacket over my short dress. On my way down the stairs, I encounter the neighbour living on the second floor, who can't pull his eyes away from my legs and his right hand away from my left boob. I push him into the metal railing so hard that the dirt under his fingernails is gone and hop, down the stairs he goes. I can hear him from behind: whoa, Satan. I manage to give him the finger.
Răzvan Drăgoi
Let me introduce myself. I am a wealthy and tasteful man. Most of you know me. I am besides you when you watch the horrors on TV and when you search the internet, pretending that social media can fill the void in your souls. I am in the music you are listening to, not only in metal, but also in the one that makes you feel melancholic or hopeless, thinking about what you've lost. I'm pleased to meet you. I hope you've guessed my name. But what amazes you is the nature of my game.
Iulia Visi
You grabbed me by a wing with your iron hand. You shaped a brush out of my feathers, digging a hole in the earth's heart. We started hiding deeper and deeper, within ourselves, within others. We washed ourselves with bismuth and I went silent. I thought you were the only one in which I could listen to my silence. When silence turns into noise, what's left to do? You punch, you throw pitch, you spit ash. Now cover your ears and connect a speaker to your heart. You are free to scream. Louder. Maybe someone will hear you. Not him. He is covered in tin.
(Translated by Claudia Cioplea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.