We're broadcasting from in front of block BI3, where the Moon was last seen in a puddle. Mr. Prăpădescu[1]. Ma'am, I came back at 8 o'clock with my dog from a walk, the dog was thirsty and before I could put water in his bowl, he found that puddle in the corner near the block and he spilled all the water. The Moon was there, I swear, but if he drank the water, he drank the Moon too. At the time of this report, the Moon is still nowhere to be found, while the Prăpădescu family dog's belly has taken on a curious golden halo.
[1] Prăpădescu is a Romanian family name that comes from the verb a se prăpădi which is translated as to die.
Adriana Patroi Miu
She's under the pain reliever. She feels nothing, just a pleasant numbness and a pleasant feeling of peace. There's a big commotion on the news. How could a lover in love stab his girlfriend on her birthday? 22 strokes - 22 years. Will she survive? She shuts it down. She's lived it all intensely: a sentimental handicap inherited at birth. She hears journalists arguing with nurses for statements. Let them in, she wakes up shouting: I don't know the man you're talking about. Maybe the dagger got in the right place. I'm cured.
Florentina Ghițescu
Travel diary. Day 1011. Planet Earth. I've been here before several years ago when I met a very nice gentleman in the desert. That's when he drew me a picture of a sheep and a muzzle. I went back to my flower. The sheep didn't eat the flower even though the muzzle was missing its bindings. They became friends. After a while my flower died and I went on my journey again. Now I landed in a big box where many people were running around aimlessly and on a big screen someone said - we are starting the news.
(Translated by Andreea-Daniela Vasilache / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.