Sušÿi was the miller at the end of the village. He worked alone, the poor man. He had no one. He lived next to the old dispensary. From below, where the swift river flows. Many people came to him and bought good flour. Even the priest used it in the liturgy. As it happens, many people ate from him. From our community, but also from the surroundings. I cannot deny that many came just to taste. Word spread around the area. Maybe that also consumed him. Who knows? And you say you found human DNA in the middling's?
Ionuț Tuhoarcă
If you knew how many old men's feet I've kissed in forgotten corridors. Billions. They were begging to stay. I was whispering Lord's Prayer to them. In thought. I put my palm on their eyes. They were going to the Lord. Close relatives were coming. Distant ones. They brought them clean pyjamas. The old ones were flimsy. Through the rain, with a stretcher, two at a time, I accompanied them to the morgue. Crows were crowing on the fences. An owl in the valley. With regrets. Light as a feather. A flower petal. What is man, my brother? If I knew, I'd tell you. Brother.
Monica Aldea
The dust had fallen upon the chronicles, and no one remembered what had ignited the conflict between the Crumb Kingdom and the Crust Kingdom. Maybe it had started with the first bread out of the hearth. Or with the first harvested ears. Bakers' secrets were closely guarded. Whoever tried to cross with a loaf of bread into the neighboring land, paid with his life. After a harsh winter, pestilence and famine struck the Crumb Kingdom. From the Crust Realm, the emperor's youngest son crossed the border with a loaf of bread. And the aroma of the ripe wheat dispelled hatred and brought peace.
(Translated by Ioana Andreea Radu / 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.