He grabbed me with both hands and turned me all over, carefully. He seemed to look more at my profile. He readjusted the folds of my skirt and the collar of my blouse. He closed and opened my eyes. For a bit he twisted one of my curls around his finger. Then he lifted one of my hands to my ear, while setting the other one down, by my body. He immediately let both of them down. He placed me on the bed and I thought that was it. But no. A few seconds later, I was next to the ten other dolls he no longer liked.
Cecilia Fofiu
Through the muddy woodland that comes to life with the murmur of thousands of insects in the husks of rotting trunks, I climb the limestone rocks with leafy hats and tufts of hazel tree hair. The tall, young deciduous trees aid my inner peace. Hiking allows me to overcome life in the smog of civilization and its calamities. The green kingdom gives me the feeling of being the mistress of the wilderness. It did until we met. The beast emerged out of nowhere, stealthily, cunning and curious. It shook my left shoulder blade, embraced me fiercely and, with a frostbitten nail, burrowed through my heart.
Ina Moldoveanu
Don Ernesto's yacht sailed smoothly. He approached a small fishing boat, which seemed to be in trouble and asked if he could be of any help. The old fisherman, nephew in tow, was very angry and replied to the toff, Vete al carajo americano de mierda. Carajo is that little basket they put on the top of Spanish caravels on their way to the Americas. Climbing up there was a harsh punishment for sailors. The old man's face, wrinkled by time and wind, stuck with Don Ernesto and after meeting him he wrote The Old Man and the Sea.
(Translated by Bogdan Nicola / 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.