Blessed are the Merciful

Marilena Demian
She carefully adjusted her leaf, looked at the blooming jasmine bushes, took a deep breath, then quickly raised her head towards the rosy clouds on the horizon, behind which the cherubs were gathering for choir. She just didn't want to look straight ahead. She had, so far, managed to ignore the glowing sphere swinging on the snake's tail right under her nose. But as she knew that she would still have to give in to the temptation, she grabbed the fruit and bit into it with determination. Crunch. Beside her, Adam, feeling humble, swallowed hard. His stomach growling. Disgusted, Eva looked at him with pity. Fine, come one, you can take a bite, too.

Julia Sandu
It was drizzling and boyar's Tanase carriage was returning on the muddy road that led from the station to the mansion. He was gazing proudly upon the fields that were now, after a lifetime of work, his own. When he had moved here as of the old nobleman's tenant, he had nothing but a suitcase with a shirt and a change of underpants. He was meticulous when it came to accounts and receipts, but harsh when dealing with peasants, and terrible towards the debtors to whom he lent money in the winter as for them not to starve until the harvest. I am merciful, he said to himself, blessed.

Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
He rolled up his sleeves and went outside. He liked to do the work himself. The servant had placed them side by side. He took the whip and struck with a passion. The whip was tickling his ears, and their copper skin was cracking under the whip like watermelons crack under the knife during summer. The wails were rising in the dusty sky. Please, stop beating us, sir. Face me, you useless bastards. Why did you bring me this one, too, he said to the servant, looking at the last one with some kind of pity and disgust. I told you to hand him as slave to the monastery. It had been years since he had abused his mother.

(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.