Hopless, Oblivious People and Their Journals

Beatrice Chivu
The women washed their white clothes in the river from the village. They were looking at each other in silence. Their hands scrubbed the cloths, while their mouths sang doine[1] to pass the time more easily. The men were working the harvest. The love for bade[2] Ion united them because they kept it in their memories. Lelița[3] Maria started to speak with them. They wouldn't weave flowers into each other's hair and dance under the moonlight, nor would they watch each other through the keyhole anymore. Some answered her, others didn't. Lelița wished them well and kept going on her way.
Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
You forgot about the wedding. I was late. You left me in the hospital with the baby. I missed the birth. You overlooked the birthdays. I postponed growing old. I think you've even forgotten my name. I had a lapse. Sometimes. I know you're Ioana. I hope you remember the divorce. Old man, did you take your pills? Did my wife write them down for me in my journal? You're crazy; you've been divorced for 40 years and ended up alone in a nursing home. Yet, she comes and writes down what I'm supposed to remember. Look, the notebook is full. I read it every day. On every page, a single word. Ioana.

Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
He had forgotten to tell her he loved her, while she had dreamed he was cheating on her with a blonde. The next morning, Lola woke up furious. She found him in the kitchen, calmly sipping his coffee. So, how was it with that blonde in my dream? she suddenly shouted. Alec looked at her, confused. What blonde? The one with the bleached hair and a plastic brain, Lola replied. He burst out laughing, but she wasn't backing down. I'm thinking of filing for divorce. He leaned in and whispered in her ear, I can't wait to see the judge's face when you tell him about the blonde. Lola paused and sighed. Yeah, right.

(Translated by Alexandra-Ecaterina Sandu / 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.