started like any other day. Overnight I went white. It looked good on me. I left quickly, but I got tired and sat down on a bench. Too bad that I didn't have a book. That was okay, because I was also missing the glasses I didn't buy. Yet. I smiled. I forgot where I was supposed to go. It meant that it wasn't an emergency. The day I got old I passed by the cemetery and I didn't stop. I teared up. I let it go down my cheek. I won't tell you why. I do. The day I grew old I caressed my wrinkles and made peace with the one in the mirror.
Corina Nina
Lumps of frozen dirt loudly fell over the coffin lowered into the ground. It is snowing. Large flakes, shining over in the harsh December sunlight, silently settled over the people. Let's make angels in the snow, Dad. The priest is saying the farewell prayer in a low voice. I wipe away my tears with my white, knitted gloves I found under the tree last year. No one should die during Christmas. The other day I was still a child waiting for Santa Claus. Today I'm an old man burying his father.
George Dometi
It's Christmas Eve. I am twelve years old and have a bag of childhood dreams in a 24 m² studio apartment where four souls live. My dreams were dashed just like a pot thrown at a wall by a woman who could see Satan trying to drive her crazy. I receive screams, howls, scratches, spits and curses from the one who gave birth to me. A ruthless illness makes her see things I don't fully understand. So, I am forced to become the adult of the house. So, I have to take care of her and my other siblings.
(Translated by Andreea Cuprian / 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.