The little table had a few skilled hands building the Lego universe. The teacher's question dispelled the sound of plastic against plastic. What do you think is the meaning of life, children? To put toothpaste on bread. To take a shower with milk. The meaning of life is to have a butler, an unicorn, and a butler for the unicorn. The meaning is to be so old that you steal your mom's cane so you can go for a walk. The teacher's face lit up. She would give her body to the men in white, so they may take the veins to her heart and use it to draw little houses where every child has a mommy.
Mira Wolf
It was evening. Doctor Gavrilescu was in the basement lab with his friends. My dissected brain was laid out on the table. The scientist yelled, as if brought back to life, that they'd never seen anything like it before. The pictures projected on the screen left the audience speechless. The Reptilian Bible, Messages from the Felines of Sirius, The Bucegi Sun Pyramid, Atlantis was in Transylvania, and the Moon Landing was fake. Doctor Gavrilescu slept with me while I was his student. Soon enough, the brain was declared missing.
Monica Bologa
My soul is at peace with this decision. My lungs have gone to London, my liver to Paris, my kidneys to New Delphi, and my heart, ohh, my heart, I insisted it to be sent to Rome. My organs were sprinkled across the world and put under the microscope. The researchers used the parts of me for all sorts of revolutionary experiments. Two years later, all of my organs have been locked back in their place, beneath skin. Only my spine was missing. Even the 21 grams of me need their spine. Now I float above myself with dignity.
(Translated by Adriana-Maria Botea / 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.