I Am Writing

Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
in prison. Before the parole board. The one who killed my mother requested this. Being a party to this, I have to give them my opinion. Ostensibly when they are aware of their mistake, they regret it, turn to faith and thus can be reintegrated into society. I agree. But. I find her lying on the bathroom floor. A tear drips from her open eyes. I take her in my arms. I caress her. It seems that she's breathing. She's cold. I pull the knife out of her chest. They found me holding it in my right hand. The left one was under my mother's head. Set him free. I've kept the dagger. Have you heard of patricide?

Nicolae Popescu
Vera and Pricop met over a brandy. Vero. Now that I've retired, I want to write about living in a block of flats. Considering all we've been through, it would make for a thrilling novel. The saga of a family in a proletarian block of flats. Well, a large family. The two of us have the leading roles, your daughter Tincu'a, Mbombo, her boyfriend, and our neighbour Gilda. Vera asks: What about Panfil, our neighbour? He shows up in the beginning. In a hot scene alongside the protagonist suddenly, her husband shows up at the door. The shock is so powerful that Panfil drops dead. Vera shakes her head. Damn this book, wouldn't it be better if we just paint the house?

Arthur Ianoși
laconically, briefly, concisely. On crosses. Poetically mutilating the stone. In harmony with the grief of those who come to mourn the departed, hoping they mutually obliterate each other. I write as time is slipping away. Into nonexistence. With chisel and hammer. Carving death in quatrains. Writing with tears on marble. Humming words. My hand doesn't shake. Today I'm writing the chronicle of a death foretold. Mine. I have a silvery Urania typewriter. It's still early. B. 11.11.1911. - D. 11.11.19___. I've decided to live for thirty-three years. I'm signing my peace armistice.

(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / 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 January 2024, the group has 12,500 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.