Man, there's no use yelling at me. Grab your stuff and go. The flood is coming, what's there to understand? Petrică just stood there, staring blankly. Deputy, he muttered softly, where am I supposed to go? This is my home. Home, not home, flood will sweep you away, man. You and your whole family. Pack whatever you can, nooow! I shouted at him. The man finally budged, but the torrent was faster, sweeping us all away, with houses or not, each one caught as they were. Only little Lică, Petru's youngest, passed by us, standing calmly on a plank as if he were walking on water.
Horațiu Dudău
The rain fell relentlessly from the gray havens. He watched the torrent carve through the village center, a distributary of another, now seeking its own uncharted path. He should have left two days ago. This was his first year as a university lecturer. Right across, on the porch of the parish house, the priest was also staring anxiously at the raging waters. From dust we came, and to dust we shall return. He wrote to the professor. Trying to offer solace. The screen flickered. From water we came, and to water we shall return, dear father.
Alina Ilie
You are in over your head with problems. You're overwhelmed because, at first, you can't tell the difference between what's urgent and what's important. I get it, but what do I do now? she asked. You take a step back, and you make order in your thoughts, just like you did with your bookshelves last summer, by category: romance, fiction, horror. When we reached the last one, I saw how her face went pale. It seemed I had unwittingly awakened some hidden fear. So, I reassured her: Monsters aren't real. She looked at me like a child one would think they can't understand.
(Translated by Maria Loredana Constantin / 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.