I told her upfront that I'm fed up with skating on the bathroom floor tiles. Let's go to the mountains, damn it. Classy, with the cellophane on the ski slopes. Titan ice. We had a few kilometres more. Two cops stopped us. Crivăț[1] started blowing. In the breathalyzer. Oh, I forgot, calling each other Crivăț and Furtuna[2] is our love language. Natural phenomena. So, after blowing all the rum essence in that vuvuzela, my boyfriend crossed himself and shouted my name. Furtuna, viens ici. I have no idea what those two, Pic and Poc, could have possibly understood, 'cause they were looking at me as if I were a goddess. And I was spitting seeds. As for a fight.
[1] Crivățul is a strong wind that blows from the east or northeast in Moldova, Dobrogea and in some parts of the Bărăganu Plain in Romania. Here, Crivăț is used as a name.
[2] Furtuna is translated as storm in English. Here, Furtuna is used as a name.
Ioana Bostan
Come on, you got this. Half an hour. You see that cliff. Which one. Look, there's that crooked fir tree and some hanging roots. So, what. There it is. Thirteen more minutes and then we get to rest. There's beer at the cabin and we'll munch on something. You can. Hell no, I can't. When you think you can't do it anymore, you still can. He heard his mother, perched on a boulder 20 meters in front of him, applying lipstick before taking a selfie. A long-bearded old fellow with messy hair passed them by and said hi. Safe travels, kids. Damn it, look, there's Einstein. Sir, sir, can we make a selfie.
Nicolae Popescu
After two hours of climbing, Tincuța and Mbombo reached a meadow. There's sunlight, blackbird humming, the sound of water flowing. Tincuța puts down her backpack. Her gaze hugs Mbombo's fly lazily. He senses the danger in the fresh mountain air: Mr. Pricop told me that sex is only after marriage. Otherwise, he cuts mine. Tincuța's phone rang for a second. Hmm, just a coincidence, it's my dad. Here's what he says: The whole purpose of this trip is just to acknowledge the beauties of our country. Tincuța smudges and throws the phone in the creek.
(Translated by Cristina-Andreea Dobre / 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.