Eric is a blond boy with chestnut eyes. He will be ten years old on the second of June. What if he's a brat? He is. In his soul as big as a full moon. In his unwritten story, in which he is an immortal prince who conquers the world. In the written one, Eric is just a child's face whose smile has the corners of his lips turned down. A face crying for help, to which some respond with tears, others with indifference. A story that no one wants. Buried, on the first of June, in the corner of a sad smile.
Gabriel Rusu
Auntie Floare met JR one evening on Fuego's tiktok channel. After some good old fashioned jokes, it was clear to them that they were meant for each other. The American was looking for an oasis of peace, and Buzău seemed like the perfect place for the final fall of the curtain. Since the movies weren't going too well, auntie Floare sent him 300 dollars on Revolut. Baby, how to run out of compensated prescription? Except that the bastard, after he received all the money, sent one last message. Sorry darling, I made up with Sue Ellen.
Miruna Prescher-Spiridon
I thought I would be the only mother in the world who swallowed her child out of fear. I thought the world was going to swallow us both up. Mom laughed. He told me that all children are born from the fear of women and mortal stories. The woman, the story and the world it was written for all die. Great grandmother gave birth to kill the war story. Grandma gave birth to kill the story of poverty. The mother gave birth to kill the story of communism. I give birth to the stories of their worlds. We'll see who dies from this.
(Translated by Andreea Maria Liceanu / 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.