They had the Christmas dinner in the hotel restaurant. Fuelled by alcohol, they were belting out carols. The fire was burning in the fireplaces scattered around the room. Outside, the snow drift was halfway up the glass, and it was still snowing. It was just like a winter fairy tale until Twelve Days of Christmas started playing. Then Mira hurled her glühwein mug at the nearby speaker. Make him shut up, she cried. On the twelfth night, he took my child and ran away. I found them on the thirteenth day, in an overturned car, at the bottom of a ravine. Frozen.
Alina Nedelcu
I'm a dark angel. The kind that spends his nights in obscure brothels and drinks the warm blood of the virgins. My thirst is unquenchable, and my throat burns. The moon is my companion. The centuries are but mere moments for me. I seek for my other half among those of my kind. Mortals don't interest me. If you know someone, let me know. Tell them they will find me on Thursday, the twelfth night, near a moonlit Gothic column. A white, dead lily between my teeth. Code word: the lone wolf.
Ioana Cosma
Last night, I officially entered the twelfth grade, and I didn't give a rat's ass about the graduation exam or grades. All I cared about was the graffiti I drew on the front wall of the block. I decided to leave home and finish my last piece of work, which I secretly called the fresco. It was an immense graffiti, in black and red, representing everything I hated the most in this world: those who, as the guys from BUG say, sleep on money while we starve. This will be my masterpiece before I vanish. The twelfth.
(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / 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.