On the Stadium

Monica Ciurea
In the heavy twilight air, the sea of ​​empty figures with gaping eyes flows through the streets, the torches burst, the trumpets sound, the great gates swallow all souls, the murmur sings in the nocturnal, they are promised salvation, the guards divide them into ranks, the women of on the left, the men on the right, let the children come to be able to hear from the loudspeakers, a flash splits the lawn in two, short whistle and from the sky, deus ex machina, they are shown the change. The change is the chance. A unanimous Oo. The whole stadium shakes. It's the goal[1] that fills it.
Caterina Tudorache
 I can not hear you. Yes, I'm not at home. Yes, I closed the door. I checked. I'll call you when I go out. Mom, you know you bring us bad luck. I told you we'd talk later. Yes, there is applause. I took magnesium. I also drank milk. Just chicken. No beer. Just water. And lemon. I have socks. The long ones. Hat. Yes. And gloves. How can I leave without them? I can barely hear you. It's noise, mother. Yes, I'm avoiding it. But I have to catch them too. If we fight, turn off the TV. Okay, I'll take you next time. You are not allowed here. Only in the stands. Okay, make yourself some tea. Kiss you.

Paul Dârvariu
Wednesday, at the Cup finals, is that good? No, I can't stand stadiums, I suffer from agoraphobia. What's that? Fear of large and crowded spaces. OK, how about a movie? Didn't I tell you I suffer from agoraphobia? I have panic attacks in movie theatres. Then, I invite you to my place. How many rooms do you have? One, a studio apartment. Do you stay alone? Alone. Great, if you had stayed with your folks, I wouldn't have come. I can't stand small and crowded spaces either. Do you have hot water? I have. Okay, I'll come. I'll bring the cookies, you chill the champagne. But are you sure you have hot water?

(Translated by Ioana Andreea Radu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)


Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In June 2024, the group has 13,100 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)

Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.