My legs were trembling from exhaustion. Blisters on top of blisters had burst, gluing my socks to the wounds. I felt the pain in every step, as if thousands of blunt knives were stabbing brutally from the soles up to my right eye. I had bitten my lower lip so much that deep teeth marks and smeared lipstick had actually changed my face. Moving felt like the sad sideways shift of a pawn, with clenched fists and nails digging into my skin. How the hell did I end up here? One night of dancing in 12-inch stilettos, that's how.
Cristian Nedelcu
He focused all his attention on his latest creation. He had nothing better to do, so he created man. Big mistake. Still, it wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't also given him free will. That was the cherry on top. The real problem was that man needed to be kept in check from time to time, or he'd go completely off the rails. This took up all his time and irritated him beyond measure. He kept trying to find a solution. One day, before his morning coffee, he made up his mind: Satan, you've got a job. What job, boss? Mankind. Handle it.
Daniela Rusu
He loves possessively, awkward yet at ease. He takes his time, shaping his existence around my fluid movements. When it seems like I'm pulling away from him just a little, he desperately searches for me and pulls me back with gravitational force. He constantly watches me with a glacial stare, threateningly reminding me that I am his, that I owe him. Sometimes he takes my hand and leads me through dark, winding streets to see how much of a child I still am. But I haven't felt like a child for a long time. Not afraid of assassins. Because I know how I ended up here.
(Translated by Marian-Cătălin Niculăescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.