Two sheep were absent-mindedly chewing in the evening's silence. Girl, have you noticed that in the evening, you are two? The other one turned her head, pretending not to hear. Girl, the light disappears behind the hill in the evening, and then I can't see anything. The other closed her eyes, took ten deep breaths in her mind, and managed to stay silent. Girl, are the shadows still us? The light brings our sister to accompany us. The other stood up and walked away, muttering. This fool thinks about lights and shadows. Who does she think she is? Our purpose is to give milk and wool. And meat, shouted the shepherd, sharpening his knife.
Andra Toropoc
He sat on the walnut shells of his soul and whipped himself with memories. In solitude, he wore the mask of pain on one face, while on the other, he painted a smile when he held his child in his arms. He caressed the little one's cheeks-lifted in wonder-with hands heavy with sadness. But where is Mommy? He couldn't tell him and waited for the child to forget and drift into sleep. Then, in the silence of the night, he began his penance. He called her in his thoughts and sobbed his guilt aloud, for he had been the one driving when- Two tiny hands shook him gently. Daddy, I don't want you to cry.
Ionuț Morariu
Ion was a photon. But everyone called him Nelu and thought he was a proton. That's where the confusion came from. Wave or particle. But Nelu couldn't have cared less. Until one day. When it started getting darker and darker. Pitch black. The night of the mind. Then, those who dwelled in the shadow of death cried out for a great light to shine. But the light no longer descended upon them. Frightened, they remembered God and Ion, the photon. In vain. A painted crow[1] had already convinced them both. That the sparrow dreams of cornmeal[2]. That darkness does not exist.
[1] In Romanian, there is an expression - to walk with a painted crow - that is used to highliht a lie. For example, when a person tries to trick someone, but they get caught.
[2] This is a Romanian proverb that means: Every man has his own aspiration that he pursues.
(Translated by Ioana Levîrdă / 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.
