How is he, doctor? The same. Unbelievable, started Jimmy. You can't find a single bum in this town who isn't a chronic drunk anymore. Doctor Naum, tall, slender, dressed in a white, unbuttoned lab coat, too short for the long arms handling the test tubes, lay back in his seat, lost in thought. I've told you a beggar is not an option. They can't live without alcohol. So who could we find with clean blood and so little money they couldn't afford walking into a bar? Have you considered a teacher, mister Belu[1]?
[1]Belu is the name of Romania's most famous cemetery - the character's name is therefore a pun suggesting either that he's a vampire, or that he's dying.
Daniela Rusu
Ever since I was a child, I knew dad couldn't live without drinking. So I didn't mind the walk to the tavern. I'd stop at every tree he too had left behind. I know you saw him too, I'd whisper. I didn't mind it when his trembling hands would make me swallow the lump in my throat. His shouting did not startle me, nor did the smashed bottles, mom's bruises, or the times his face couldn't be told apart from the blood flooding him. I'd wipe him patiently, and he'd fall asleep between the palms of my hand, and that's when I knew for certain I could never live without him either.
Silvia Ștefan
My econ' teacher across the bar, Whitesnake playing in the background. He seems anxious, he didn't come to the lecture today. I didn't go to the last lab either. He rolls up his sleeves, takes a greedy drag from his cigarette, and starts typing. Beer trickles down his beard. He's sweating. I watch him from the corner, through the clouds of smoke I launch in circles, like an Indian. I'd tell him that his tie knot looks like hell, but I'd rather not stir things up for no reason. Me and my OCD. I can't take it anymore. I lunge out and yank it off. Just like that. Damn, Silvi, how will you fix this? I quickly pulled my mouth away from his finger.
(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)
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.