Three Days of Fasting

Gabriel Rusu
Father, I believe our pig had a devil's rib inside it. Early in the morning, when I go to the back of the yard to take a leak, I hear whispers from the smokehouse. I repentantly step forward, make the sign of the cross three times, spit in my blouse, and open the door. Nothing there. Just the rib hanging on the hook. But when I see it, so battered by the smoke, my mouth starts watering like in the stories of Noah and the Flood. I know that only tomorrow is not today, but it's hard, father, just like it was for the Savior in the desert. I don't know how much longer I can hold on.

Paul Dârvariu
I don't like fasting. It messes up my metabolism, my ears ring, I get vertigo, and at night I dream of tripe soup, caltaboși[1], stuffed cabbage rolls, and pornhubs. Still, for the good of our little country, I've kept these three as prescribed: with spring water, not that bottled stuff contaminated with chips. The first one, for local elections, the second one, for parliamentary elections, and the third one, for the presidential elections. The problem is that I'll have to repeat the last one next year. If it falls during Lent, I'm in trouble: that one lasts 48 days.
Victoria Gârlan Grigore
Three days of fasting had passed slowly for Clara in the chaos of the city. She had tried to empty her mind of thoughts, but the street tempted her with the smells of bakeries and the hustle of hurried people. On the third day, at the busy intersection, her gaze stopped on a man. He was handing out flowers to passersby. He asked for nothing. He smiled. He reached her. He offered her a pale freesia. Without words. A simple gesture, enough for her to feel that the fast hadn't been just about hunger, but rather about discovering a silent connection with the world around her.  

(Translated by Laura-Monica Doroiman / 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.