There the robbers were taken and punished under the eyes of the crowd, as an example to them. The line of chained men moved forward with small steps. What have they done, a young man asked the bandit standing beside him. They stole. And this one, he asked, pointing to the withered man with long hair and lost eyes, very different from the others. That's the worst, he's a writer. The world in his books is much more beautiful than the one we live in. He's stolen and taken everything beyond. Those people will have their hands cut off, he'll have his eyes gouged out.
Carmen Tot
As a child I hated football, its constant buzz. During the championship season, my dad used to take the Gloria radio out in the backyard on drums and listen to the game while he pruned the grapevines or trees, chopped wood, or did other daily chores outside. Now I sit on the edge of the bed in the hospital ward that only has one bed occupied on 1st of May parlour and debate with him the game we're listening to on the new radio. I learn strategic details and laugh. For a moment, we both forget the water in our ankles and the booklet sitting on the corner of the bedside table: life with dialysis.
Nicolae Popescu
Tică, the coach, gives instructions: today the honour of the village is at stake, the mayor plays the retirement match. All eyes move to the belly on the bench, trying to close its boots. The mayor gets up with difficulty: Guys, I was a starter on the kindergarten team 50 years ago. I haven't played since. Whoever gives me scoring passes today will be a councillor in the new term. Ghiță, the goalkeeper, jumps to his feet: Tică, I suggest we are on offense today. I'd play midfield. He looks up to the sky: it sounds better to be a councillor than a social assisted.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.