Gheorghiță Mircea
He had left the clinic with nothing but death on his mind. He bought a bottle of alcohol, he wanted to get wasted. On the station platform, he sat down on a bench next to an old man. Have mercy. He handed him the bottle. They started talking, and he confessed that he was going to die and not in just anyway, but in agony. You did a poor drunkard a favour, even if it was with bitterness and not with joy. You could hear the train arriving into the station. They stood up. Iam going to return your favour. You can't. Hand me the bottle. And he pushed him. The train covered the scream. See, painless. The old man emptied the bottle and kept it for the return guarantee.
Yuka Brevi
The action is taking place at dusk, on the ground floor. I am scanning the area. There are flowers in the little garden. Clearly, an old retired lady takes care of it. The open window serves as an invitation to the cash pension kept in the drawer next to the phenylbutazone. The curtain is fluttering, reminiscent of a nightgown, hung on ridgetop dry. Quietness. Everything is perfect for a guy like me, a ninja of our times. I climbed. The elderly woman was waiting for me with two hundred lei placed on the table next to a juicy slice of watermelon, with the seeds removed. Serve yourself, son, I was going to feed it to the pigs anyway, she says with joy in her voice.
Cristian Nedelcu
It was just a coal-black and eyeless furball, when old man Ilie found it in the ditch by the roadside. When he saw it shaking, flea-ridden and as skinny as it could be, he took pity on it and took it home. He gave it a bath, fed it milk, and kept it warm wrapped in a blanket, right next to him. Now it had grown into a big dog but it was getting excited and was whining like a puppy every time it saw the old man coming through the gate. The elderly man found a dog to share his loneliness with, and the dog found a human it could share its barking with.
(Translated by Adina-Lorena Dulamă / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / 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 July 2024, the group has 13,200 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, Monica Aldea, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.