The dwarf in the red cloak and long white beard, knocked on the balcony window. When I opened it, he spoke in a voice as smooth as chocolate: Would you like three tickets for the train to the Land of Shattered Stars and the Moon Devoured by Werewolves? I hesitated, but the girls jumped with excitement. The dwarf handed us three tickets that looked exactly like biscuits. No sooner had he vanished than the train appeared. The doors closed, and in an instant, it soared straight into the sky. The Earth shrank until it was no bigger than a noseprint on the window.
Arthur Ianoși
IR 1234 train had been out of service for nearly two years, but she still lingered there, by what used to be Platform 5. You could still spot bits of metal here and there, peeking through the wild, tangled brambles. They had never suspected her of causing the derailment, yet she couldn't understand how a mine of that size - the one she had buried - hadn't done more damage. The man who had betrayed her got away with little more than a few bruises. Only a child had died, struck hard in the head. Why him? Of all people. The sudden click beneath her foot snapped her out of her thoughts.
Anca Postescu Stancov
The twins, in their flowing dresses, shimmer with excitement for their first New Year's Eve among adults. My husband - their father - offers me his arm as I step out of the elegant car. We carry fine champagne in our hands. We have danced together for so many years, through good times and bad, always side by side. And even when storms pass through our days, on New Year's Eve, the sky is always clear. It could have been like this - if I had taken that miserable 12:34 IR train. But no. I insisted on the Vienna international. And so, on December 31st, I'm feeding swans in the park. Alone.
(Translated by Carmen Badea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.