I didn't really like my dad. Because he wasn't around much, and when he was, no, he didn't hit us, he only came to change his clothes. There were many of us. I forgave him because he left me a shirt. Now I'm a father myself. An avant-garde by nature. Keeping up with the trends. Not quite, though, sometimes it gets ahead of me, and other times I fall behind. I remember once I unbuttoned the top two buttons. Dad's shirt. And I rolled up the sleeves. Twice. In December. To hit my child. I promised I would never leave him.
Cecilia Fofiu
This holiday I am working shifts at the biscuit factory to save money for the end of summer. I am operating the conveyor belt, sorting out rejected products, half-heartedly paying attention to my boss, a short, mean, potbellied, greasy guy. He often hangs around me, and I can feel his gaze burning my legs, then he struts off with his hands shoved in the lab coat poackets. This morning, I noticed him behind me on the cramped tram, He blew sticky air on the back of my neck, I'm making the prize list today, do you want to subscribe? I wheeled around, elbowing him in the jaw. Unintentionally.
Cristian Nedelcu
It lifted its little head out of the sand. The beach was glowing under the moon's silver rays. To the left, hungry seagulls were clicking their beaks, preparing for a feast. To the right, bald eagles were flapping their wings, anticipating the attack. The salty breeze brought the sent of the ocean to its nostrils, awakening its survival instinct. It set off along with thousands of its brothers in the race for life. How many little turtles would become food for the hungry birds, and how many would find safety in the life-saving waves?
(Translated by Alina-Lorena Dulamă / 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.