Memories of Dacia

Florentina Ghițescu
I'm 10 years old and it's 1980. The downstairs neighbour won a Dacia 1300 in the lottery. He is old and doesn't have a driving licence. Dad offered to buy his car but he refused. Every Sunday they go on a trip. His wife makes sandwiches, fills a Thermos bottle with coffee that isn't actually coffee, they get in the car, put on their seatbelts and drive off. The neighbour moves the car about 3 metres away, stops the engine, they eat their sandwiches in the car and then go back home. This happens every Sunday. I see them from my balcony.

Elena Fermuș
Every night at midnight I get out of my angel bed to go back home and caress dad for a bit. Until sunrise. I'm wearing a wedding dress with red flowers on it. Flowers of my blood. That is how I fell asleep. Behind the wheel of the orange Dacia. Dad gave it to me as a wedding present. He didn't know I was going to leave far away with it. I didn't want to leave. I was happy. I didn't mean to upset anyone. But Heaven called me. To be its bride. Dad sits slumped in front of the orange wreck and cries. I caress him. He cannot feel me.
 
 Fabiola Stoi
He found Zenaida lying among the burdocks. Stretched out among the leaves, she was rattling the glass beads her brother won at the fair and was lookingup at the sky. What are you doing here, woman? Do you know how long I've been looking for you? Didn't you hear me call? The girl got up and brushed off her ragged clothes: I was the Dawn Fairy, what do you know, man? You were, my ass. Let's go, Dawn Fairy. I fixed it, now it's running again. Let's take the calf, \'cause they're all waiting for us. You fixed it, big deal. All you did was blow into the jet, do you think daddy hasn't taught me?

(Translated by Valentina Mihai / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)