Hopless, Oblivious People and Their Journals

Yuka Brevi
Old Petrică, carve a new page from my journal into the stone, I said. In the past few days, I've created a new galaxy, with suns, planets, rivers, seas, mountains, and valleys. I added trees, fish, reptiles, mammals. I want to perfect my creation with a special specimen: MAN.Wait a minute; it feels like I've had this déjà vu before. My Son Christ, I've done this once before. I should go check on those guys over there, I left them mushrooms and uranium too, he said desperately, slamming the gate behind him. He's starting to forget, thought Petru, crossing himself.

Ruxandra Donose
The phone is pressed to her ear, cut out from the gray hair, Sweetheart, however you want, tonight, a kiss. She hangs up. Well, madam, how can I help you? She looks at me suddenly, sternly, professionally.I try to speak, but the phone rings. She raises a finger, smiling awkwardly, and answers, Yes, darling, of course, however you want, by tomorrow, a kiss. Her gaze fails again, falling on me. I tried to speak immediately, but the phone rang again. She answers, embarrassed but proud, Kitten, of course, the day after tomorrow, however you want. In response to my gaze, a shoulder shrugs back, I can't remember what they're called anymore.

Ana-Maria Butuza
Alzheimer, it was written in black and white. She let the envelope slip between her fingers, her gaze lost beyond the window. The trees seemed more beautiful than in other springs, with flowers like pink and white angels, their wings frozen, half open. She wished she wouldn't forget them, but she knew it wouldn't be that way. She began to search feverishly, rummaging through the drawers, until she found the journal with the red covers, untouched. She opened it and started to write, line after line, day after day, until the letters swallowed her memories.

(Translated by Teodora Anghelachi / 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 November 2024, the group has 13,480 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.