George Dometi
A forklift driver engaged with one hand in a recreational digestive activity, and with the other one manipulating the mustard-smeared steering wheel, hit a fleet of self-propelled two-wheeled vehicles, equipped with electric spark-ignition engines and displacement under 250 centimetres; they had streamlined bodies, which transported moderately intoxicated people. As a result of the avalanche of rattling metal, a fight between them broke out and some cat-like therianthropes sneaked in. They were perched on a saddle, too.
Iulia Stavre
Her IQ score was above average. One could hardly get close to her soul. She was a tomboy, independent, with no superstar attitude, kind-hearted. She had returned to the small provincial town forced by circumstances. Her wings had ceased to hope their dreams would come true. Among the words she was throwing, one could guess, but never know, what bothered her. In order to shock everyone, one day she bought herself a scooter. It was the only one in town, a girl was riding it. I could still remember the chalk drawing on the pavement and the white angel dress.
Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
Leana told them she will marry a guy with a car. Her doctor had told her she was infertile and she couldn't have children and she had seen in a movie on Netflix that all those who made love on the back seat got pregnant. But she ended up with Mitică who had a scooter. So she tried out all the neighbours' cars and even went farther on a couple of streets. Mitică, for her sake, was saving money for the car. And this is what he gave her for her birthday. And he couldn't understand why Leana was yelling at him: have you lost your mind, man, what should I do with the tractor?
(Translated by Irina Vild / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.