This Fall

George Dometi
It's a gloomy kind of November and each rude remark makes her cry her eyes out. She feels that, ever since her mother died of cancer and her brother passed away in that stupid accident, her life has lost all of its meaning. But now she's in love. Her classmates make bitter jokes about her deformed body. The weather is gloomy, it's raining, so she goes to Bazinul Mare[1]. Quickly enough she finds herself alone. The janitor finds her floating. People called her The Whale. She committed suicide by drowning in the pool. The rain is pelting down on the matte windows.
Monica Bologa
He left me on September 10^th, right on my birthday. I cried a little, but now I'm doing well. It's the first year I haven't pickled anything, I haven't cooked our traditional vegetable spread, nor any compote. My pantry is empty. My bed is too. I'm fine. I don't have to iron any shirts or trousers anymore. I cook whenever I feel like it, I eat in front of the TV, on the couch. I do whatever I want to, whenever I want to, without having to account for anything to anyone. I'm fine, but it feels like something is missing. I go to my second-floor neighbour and I ring the doorbell. When he opens the door, I immediately ask him: How about I cook you some vegetable spread?

Florina Hegedüs
When the carts loaded with our field's harvest reached the village entrance, she was standing there. One foot resting on the boundary stone. She was adjusting the seam of her silk stocking. The men tipped their hats towards their necks. The women huddled together. She smiled at them. Like a nuclear flame in thin summer clothes. They brought her to the village to assign her a purpose.Still warm in her heart, she was casting spells. The following day everything was as smooth as chestnut velvet and everyone had grapes hanging from their ears. We're not immortal - she said. Let's live it large.

(Translated by Laurențiu-Gabriel Niculae / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)


Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In December 2023, the group has 12,210 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)

Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.