And I will give it to you. We will always have food, shelter and places to go. Just vote for me. I will give the lunatic light, the deaf music, the mute a loudspeaker, the sad humour and the poor a brass farthing. So you may all be content. Just vote for me. I will lift the fallen, take down the high, wake the forgetful up, and others I will turn into somebodies, I will dress the poor and disrobe the rich. Equity, not equality. Just vote for me. The petition is in your empty pockets. Fill me.
Florina Hegedüs
In the Wild West, where women didn't have much of a choice, I chose the opportunity to work as a saloon girl, be independent. The short petticoats didn't protect me from everyday dangers, but they brought me cash. Here I met Joe. He was a penny pincher, and he liked how I worked but, even more, he liked my sparkling eyes, always looking forward. There were plenty men back then, but few women. He chose me. The farm, the kids, the grandkids wiped my past clean. Only Joe knew who I had been. He died yesterday.
Vero Anttheia Teodoru
He held classes in the unheated room. The children, dressed in thick clothes and hats, were waiting for him. They were rehearsing carols, just a few days left until Christmas Eve. They left their desks, lined up as they always did, and started softly in two voices: Lord, Lord, let us raise. Joy was evident on their faces, while the music teacher's face showed astonishment. How could they be so serene? The steam swirled into strange spirals like abstract drawings that silently disappeared. Untold, unknown stories. Today, you all get a 10 in the grade book. The bell rings.
(Translated by Ioana Grințescu / 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.