Asked by His Holiness, I conduct a survey among the parishioners. The service is over; I ask around. Pious people, happy for the answers received about their what's and how's, for prayers, singing, and crying. For the soul is delicate, and wishes to repent. As I was leaving, the crowd carried me along to a tavern. There was singing, crying, and plenty of laughter as well. I go to a different church. The same scenario. I write in the report: Everyone is glad that, along the road, there's always a church and a tavern, and plenty of holy water to go around. One detail: the competition is spreading much quicker.
Cecilia Fofiu
Big trouble in the village on the road leading to the meadow. Văsălie, having easily obtained the lease through an auction from the former APC[1], has been digging a pit all night long, big enough to hold a banquet. The villagers are shocked and furious. Some curse him, others spit at him. Where are they supposed to take their livestock to graze, through the pit, or God forbid, should they send them on a cable car? Has he gone mad? From the cabin of the machine, the brazen man mocks them: You can shout until you're hoarse, this land is mine, and I'll do what I please. You'll come to the tavern I'm building, but only those who respect me are welcome. You brutes.
[1]Agricultural Production Cooperatives (APCs) were state-sanctioned collective farming organizations where individual farmers pooled their resources and land to work collaboratively.
Diana Cornea
When she remembered, she roared with all the pain she was just now accepting. The red line was the only proof. An unbroken thread. Circle. Her arms were shaking. She was drowning in agony. Half dazed, she rose. The shards, the soles, the absurd floor. The stars danced before her eyes, red as the very loneliness she had chosen. She left. An aimless shadow. A wraith. Do you want it? And the ruby glass passed from hand to hand. I tried it too. Look. And their circle was crossed. A scar. Let's drink. Let's forget. She gazed deeply at the sea. And said no.
(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.