Elena Fermuș
At least his old mother is fine. In the countryside with her chicks and the little patch of land she still tends to pow. When he calls her, he makes sure to play an old recording in the background. The children are laughing, the dog is barking, and his wife is calling everyone to the table. He mimics normality. How can he tell her that the kids are at a counselling session and their mother is at a chemotherapy assembly? He lies, and it hurts him terribly. Twice. But her heart wouldn't withstand the truth. What a mother's heart could bear it, when her child's heart is crying?
Alex Caragian
Do you know what intrigues me? Z. asked without waiting for an answer, as usual; although patience and attention have diminished since we got smartphones, the average duration of movies has increased. That's what they said at the ceremony last night. To be honest, I rarely watch until the end, I prefer to read chronicle, read a book, to just glance at the screen. But I can replay a scene twenty times. Look, do you want me to tell you the ending of this one? I don't think you'll catch it and he grabbed the handle of the carbon hunting knife from under the couch.
Siranuș Hakobian
I was just 16 when I got drunk for the first time. When I woke up, I had amnesia, a huge bump on my head, bruises all over my body, and horrible nausea. The bruises faded, but the hangover lingered, and a cheerful doctor told me I was screwed - I was both a virgin and a pregnant girl. Naturally, I was seized by some mystical thrills, and in my capacity as a pregnant virgin, I laid hands on Christian heads and blessed them. I raised the boy with difficulty, and he has a saintly soul: he still tries to turn water into wine.
(Translated by Miruna-Gabriela Flipache / 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.