17.12.2024
Caterina Tudorache
The king is shouting. You fools, I'm starving. Three servants hurried in with a small treat: a suckling pig, six guineafowls and a fat rooster. Five younger ladies fluffed up his pillows. A distinguished wise man appeared from behind the curtains, prepared to write down any word of wisdom coming from His Highness. Everything was done in complete silence, so as not to disturb the balance in the kingdom. One hour later, burping and swearing, His Majesty was yelling for his bedpan. You can have the rest; I'm feeling generous today. The nine servants thanked him deeply and reached for the pile of bones.

Cristina Alistar Gabouty
The priest keeps listing parables, so as to illustrate the main parable, and I want to scream out of boredom. Everyone is looking at me, my organ has been placed up front, unlike in those gothic cathedrals with cool balconies. There are no stained glass windows either, so I can perfectly see the neighbouring building through the huge insulated glass. Let us pray, says the priest. I let them know coldly the page for God is love. The women are singing out of tune, the men are merely moving their lips. I press the wrong key. Sitting with his legs spread, a man is enjoying some sunflower seeds at the balcony across the street. He looks at us, from time to time, sneering.

Daniela Toader
I remember a time when the beef salad was always made with chicken instead, when small people gave great advice, when the flames of whatcouldhavebeen were eventually put out under the thick sole of what should have neverhappened, when the first snow would fall precisely on the very day frustrations without number were winning the war they were waging for years against the unspoken logic of the inner universe. Many years I've been adamant about wanting to change the world. Today I'm happy I couldn't.

(Translated by Adrian-Florin Duță / 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.

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