12.07.2025

Răzvan Drăgoi
I am a stupid poet with the spirit of the proletarian plebians, I feel the need to recite communist slogans about every 17 minutes. Not out of conviction, but out of rebellion, which still have a little left of, on the bottom of the bottle. In the winter I go carolling in the yard with my friend, C. Ghe. In the summer, we sit on a bench, drink tea mixed with rum, and we hit the foundation of capitalism with a bat made of a poplar tree. Stalin and the Russians had struck terror into the bourgeois people. Excuse me for I've made a compilation. Anyway, here they hid me. Hitler is on the 2nd floor, Napoleon on the 6th and Einstein on the 9th. Hello.

 Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
I hid in the dilapidated attic, hoping that no one would find me. The air is thick with dust, but I don't even care. Tears are running down my cheeks and their words still echo in my mind. So, is it true? You liked him, you disgusting artist! one of them shouted. Another one was smirking. What are you going to do now? Are you going to write a poem about it? Then they shoved me and the kick to my ribs happened quickly after, followed by their laughter. They pressed me against the wall, as if avoiding to touch me. I bury my face in my knees. Who could protect me, now? No one. Or maybe my mother.

 Nicolae Popescu
I am 12 years old. I hid in the perfect room. There, in a big TV box, I have my books and records. That is my library. I search a little and find The Three Musketeers. I place it on the lacquered coffee table, next to the doily. The book doesn't have covers but it is not missing any pages. I am the only one in the town who has it, I stole it from the library. The boys are calling me to play football, but I can't go out at the moment. Mom is calling me down for dinner, but I am not hungry. I wait for Corina by the door leading to the garden. She comes inside brushing against me, I could never forget that moment. We hold hands, read and daydream.

(Translated by Adina-Lorena Dulamă / 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 January 2025, the group has 13,600 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.

0 comentarii

Publicitate

Sus