17.12.2024

Marian Bircea
I needed help and he'd complain that he was hungry. I went to the fair and returned to set the table. Bread, bacon and cheese. He asked for onion and salami. I offered him some. Some plum brandy would go along well. I served him a glass. Have you got some yogurt? What about some fried eggs, with tomatoes? I served that too. He'd chew really slowly. He'd like a cup of wine as well. What could I even say? Done. He drank it with small, slow gulps. Won't you give me some cigars? Be my guest. He was puffing. Eh, some coffee would be nice, and so I gave him some. Are you still there? my wife asks me. Now, let us go! But he would not stand up. What else do you want? That's a pretty wife you've got.

 Bogdan Burjan Sebastian
His soul felt like a late, November evening. With short, cold and frequent rainfall. Mist as well. All around. Yet he kept a bit of spring in his palm. A droplet only, warm and cozy. With plenty of fresh green. With dew on every single blade of grass. A ladybug was struggling to make her way through. Yet she kept falling over. She'd flounder, helpless. He picked it up carefully, in the palm of his hand. He felt a warm breeze. The ladybug opened its wings, small and frail. Are you coming back? Come along. I lack the wings. Come along, towards the sunlight, eyes shut. I cannot fly. Just close your eyes, she repeated with a smile.

Ana-Maria Butuza
All summer long I kept coming across this one puny boy selling wooden spoons and coat hangers. I offered him five lei[1] but he refused it, I'm a sheepherder from Arieș, I'm no beggar, if you want to buy some, that's the price. It moved me so much I could give him a kiss; I offered him a tenner and he let me pick out a spoon. One this week, another the next, and by the end of the holiday I had a full collection. One afternoon, while eating a pie in the park, he even taught me things, like how to play the flute and how simple it is to find joy.


[1] The Romanian leu is the monetary unit of Romania.


(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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