18.12.2024
Monica Bologa
Sitting in his grandma's arms, the child listens quietly to the priest's preaching, words he can't quite understand, but words he likes the sound of, close to a chant. He's preaching something about forgiveness and kindness. One thing of all that he did understand, that one who is kind and forgiving shall also be happy. When he arrived home, he paid a visit to Ionică - the friend he'd been mad at - and gifted him his newest toy car he had so long wished for. Now the child is crying in the attic, in the midst of dusty toys, waiting to be happy.

Sanda Vaideș
Brother, whispered the wounded man in the trench half filled with mud. Roll me a cigarette. I turned my back to the dirt wall so he couldn't see, neither the tears rolling down on my tattered coat, nor my eyes, full of a desperation lighting up blood-red sparkles in the night. I lighted up a cigarette and put it between his blue lips, stunned still at the sight of his guts, spilled from underneath his belt. I pulled the revolver's safety catch, and held him in my arms. I release you from this suffering. May God have mercy upon our unfortunate souls.

Iulia Biro
He kept telling himself time and time again that he'd stop giving in, that it kept getting him in trouble, but he couldn't help being a good man, could he? He could see they were troubled - bitter, neglected, widows, one of them shy, the other ashamed of her own body. So much beauty they were not even aware of, so many sorrows that would have muddied their souls, so much denied happiness. All those orgasms they wouldn't have experienced were it not for him. How could he not put himself at their service? He would give his all, take what they had to offer, map uncharted territories and taste their spices. And only then could he sleep peacefully.

(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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