Champions League

Dan Banu
Sometimes they would fall asleep in each other's embrace, in the attic full of spider web, so that they would be closer to their dreams. Or they would harvest stars with their eyes closed, lying naked on the sands of the lagoon. Or they would lounge about in hammocks between the sugar canes, to soak in the syrup. At other times he would vanish like the coffee vapour that outlined his face. She'd welcome him gloomily, jealous of the other woman. Did you score again, champ? He'd whisper stories in her ear, then they'd laugh their heads off, trying to to forget about the disease that was eating him from within.

Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
She had been an adrenaline junkie who lived a life of adventure. Here today and gone tomorrow. Now she had grown old and rarely had visitors come to her lake house. But on that early autumn day, a young man knocked on her door. He was out of gas and his phone battery was nearly dead. She offered him coffee and cherry jam, showed him some photos and they laughed together. Without thinking, the young man asked her to join him on his journey. And that was that, she packed her bags, closed the door behind her and forgot all about old age.

Vero Anttheia Teodoru
Say, old-timer, do you remember how the goal post used to vibrate when you came up to kick the ball? Gelu blinked away the image of the two of them sitting around the tree stump-turned-table, bringing to mind a scene from almost fifty years ago: him on the field with Ghiompu, Corbu and others, veritable champions. Another glass of moonshine, you really knocked it out of the park with this one. They drank a couple more glasses. Memories came flooding back. I'm the Last of the Mohicans, I ain't quitting, I'm coming back and we'll reminisce. Come, Nicu, I'll be here. It's not like I can run off in this wheelchair. Maybe in the next life. See you. Have a good one.

(Translated by Bogdan Nicola / 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 April 2024, the group has 12,860 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.