IR 1234 Train

Monica Bologa
My seat is right by the window. A striking stranger sits across from me. I try to read, but he stares at me - bold, unwavering. My eyes keep snagging on the same word. I can't turn the page. I glance out the window, pretending to watch the scenery, though I see nothing. He's still looking at me. The tunnel is approaching. Darkness emboldens him. He lunges forward, cradles my face in his hands. I don't resist. Our lips meet in a fierce, breathless kiss. The train whistle snaps me out of my daydream. Across from me, a toothless old man is grinning.

Anca Chimoiu
It don't even exist on goagle. IR 1234 isn't real, miss. I asked for a one-way ticket to Nicolița. I'll figure out the return trip later. Want me to be clearer? Sure, I didn't say what train it is, that's true. But what, the station doesn't exist? Of course it does! How could it not? I've been there - I had a glass of plum brandy and lost my bag with all my papers. That's why I'm going back, to get it. A railway worker found it on a bench. I'm not drunk. How could I be drunk at this hour? Maybe it's leftover from yesterday, I won't argue that. But you, miss, you sold me a ticket for a train that doesn't exist? Well, that's just not right.

Monica Aldea
Your suitcase looks heavy. Let me help you. The man lifted the bulky bag, surprised by how paradoxically light it was - like a feather. You didn't pack much. Just a few dreams, the woman said with a smile. Enough to last me, though they're never quite enough. Are you sure this is the right platform? It's completely empty. The woman stepped onto the train. Ma'am, you forgot your bag! Now, the suitcase was unnaturally heavy. IR 1234, which direction is it heading? A suitcase has been lost. From behind the information desk, the mysterious traveler replied in a calm, matter-of-fact tone: Dreams stay behind. Only people leave.

(Translated by Carmen Badea / 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.