Relaxation

Neti Niculae
I wrest myself from next to him, after watching him finally fall asleep, and I know that only then does my day start. Even though it is night-time. Inner screams gouge out eyelets of water in the sea of silence that flows from hushed walls. I gather the toys. I separate the Lego pieces from the pieces of me, and I gather myself up from the sticky wood floor. Why did I shout like I did? I will punish myself later, now I have to clean up. I wipe the stains with a force that melts away like the ice cream that bears his little fingerprints. An effective solution: Water. Detergent. And tears.

Monica Bologa
The children have long been awoken; I hear them frolicking in their room. My husband is smoking on the balcony. I go into the kitchen, I push the coffee maker's button, and get the eggs from the fridge for an omelette; the kids are chasing one another around the house; they run towards me and hit me; I drop the eggs, I get the mop and clean up, my husband doesn't want eggs, he wants frankfurter sausages, I forget to drink my coffee, the kids are yelling, they beg for candy, my husband has poured himself a glass of wine, I put my shoes on and exit. I'm running. In the park, a blind man is playing the violin. I sit down on a bench and cry.

Adina Drag
He is hurriedly crossing the cobblestone alley in front of the building. A cloud swallows up the sun. With the ensuing chill, the man's steps lose their momentum. He stops in front of a flower bush and throws up the rounds of applause that are resounding through his head. A woman with a wig and a gaberdine throws him a quick glance and goes about her way disgusted. When he straightens up, he's no longer the God he has been on stage. He gets to the parking lot, gets in his car, and revs up his clunker to the rhythm of his favourite tune.

(Translated by Francisc Csiki / 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 August 2024, the group has 13,230 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.