Death Comes to the Slots

Gabriela Marinescu
Marișica, 6 coins! Resounded just before the massive body made its entrance into the small room. On the right, two machines had been set up. On the left, behind some bars, Maricica sold lottery tickets and coins for slot machines. Since Ion had first entered the room, the neckline had dropped drastically, revealing the pale skin untouched by time. You know what, he said, today I'll win and give myself to you. He pulled the lever, and the images spun. The woman panted. Surprised by the enormous win, Ion gave himself to Death.

Lucian Pătru
Once they saw Ivan coming out, his bag stuffed with lemons, they agreed and entered. God squeezed an aura into the coin slot and pressed the button. 666. Damn it, they said. Satan, sitting nearby, freaked out at their words. He pressed his horn against the button and exulted. 777. Thank God, he grinned. Girl, bring me a shot. Death, swirling like a vortex on the Orinoco, came up with a jug filled to the brim, from which two straws stuck out. Both jumped at once, and their lips met. A black light arose in the sky. People stopped blinking.
 
 Florentina Bordeianu
The curtain of smoke grew dense in the middle of the room, like the breath of a dying person in the stillness of the last breath. The dark-tinted glasses slid down to the tip of his nose. The white cloak, dusty like an endless hemp field, caught on one of his sandals. He fed another coin into the machine. Three lemons popped up on the screen. Please, insert another coin. God slid in another coin from Judas's bag, A scythe, and three lemons. Annoyed, he produced another one. Bingo. Three scythes. Peter, watch, another one went down. Go bring him back.

(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)