It was autumn already. She used to jokingly call it Pumpkinember. The sun gazed through the golden leaves at her dumb smile. The world seemed to have slowed down a little, and life didn't seem that bad after all. It was autumn already, and her thoughts were numb. After months in the grip of depression, she was grateful for this pretty ordinary morning, at first sight. After suffocating for months, she could finally breathe. It was autumn already. Melted in her veins, the black metal slowly leaked away.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
We weren't even in high school when she decided to be a groupie for a band of shaggy rockers, as her father called them. She wore Manowar T-shirts and a leather skirt. She was a rebel. She enjoyed kissing everyone, man or woman. One day, while staying at her place, I found a Bible under her pillow. I asked why it was there, but she didn't answer. After a few years, we met in a park. We both had kids now. As she opened her bag, I noticed the same book. I didn't ask about it.
Laura Ghecenco
Satanists. Thugs. Whores and junkies. That's what I heardthem say under their breath. They lacked the guts to say it to our faces. But their words didn't faze us; we cut right through them. For me, it was enough to know what lay beneath the black T-shirts: a community involved in dozens of volunteering projects. However, as we mourned our friends on a bloody Halloween, they kept hating on us. Even then, we refrained from responding in kind. All that matters is that we change the world one small step at a time. The day we give in is the day we die.
(Translated by Alin Sescu / 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.