The fence is tall. Half of it is made of brick, the rest is metal. He hurries alongside it towards the imposing gate. From the gatekeeper's lodge, a massive man steps out, eyeing him up and down. I'll go to my folks, leave them a message, said the scrawny boy fearfully, gliding by like a shadow. He goes straight to the place he knows too well. He sweeps the leaves with a branch, lights up the candle, wipes the photograph with the back of his sleeve, and lies the paper under the vase of wilted daffodils. The others were blown away by the wind.
Cosmin Dominte
In the trenches. Mike is smoking nervously. He's waiting for Mommy and Daddy. John is doing a tarot reading next to him. He'd learned how to do that on the Eastern Front. Suddenly, he shouts over to Mike: Just so you know, Mommy and Daddy are gone, that's what the cards are saying. John, spare me your nonsense. I mean it, Mikey. John, don't you want to go home? If Mommy and Daddy come, we can go. Yes, Mikey, I do. But the cards are saying that one is called Fat Man now, and the other Little Boy. That's all. They're still coming. One to Hiroshima, the other to Nagasaki.
Laura Stanciu
Ana took a doll and rested it against the pillow. She thought about bringing a rubber duck she played with in the water, and place it next to it. Tilting her head, she looked at the family portrait of the mother and child, from which the father was missing. She took a whisk from the cupboard. Then, out of a desk drawer, she pulled a black marker. She went back to the bedroom, pursed her lips, and started hitting the doll hard with the whisk. After beating her senseless, she blackened her face with the marker. All done, dad.
(Translated by Andreea-Nicoleta Ban / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.