With the Sack

Caterina Tudorache
That's all we food do. What? He said do? They both laughed. I think he said could. What food? So, have they decided? Quiet, woman, I can't hear. They're announcing it now. Let's get batteries for the remote once we get our pension. And what do we cut? The pig. They laughed, then frowned, turning their eyes back to the TV. Want some cozonac^[1]? Yeah, but we don't have any. We cut that when we had to change the faucet. Never mind, we still have stuffed cabbage rolls. They laughed. We cut those when we had to get our prescription drugs. Shut it. He's saying something important. Oh no, they're cutting everything. Woman, we're at the bottom of the bag. What bag? What bottom?
Titela Durnea
He arrived late. He had saved them for last on purpose. The building stretched out, white, along the edge of the forest. Guarded by four towers, it promised a fairy tale. A fairy tale where princesses didn't have golden locks. He could feel the sharp pain in his chest. It didn't matter. He stepped in quietly. The walls greeted him, covered in stories and smiles. Presents overflowed from under the giant Christmas tree. Santa's sack must have been really heavy. His was light, like a snowflake struggling to cling to the beam of a house. He blew a gentle breath over the princes and princesses. That year, in one hospital, the recovery rate was 100%.

Alina Ilie
With the sack pulled up to her waist, Măriuca gazed at the grand prize, the little calf with daisies behind its ears. She hopped like a wild rabbit towards its mother, but Ilinca, the priest's daughter was still ahead of her. The priest had plenty of cows and calves, she only had her little brothers and four chickens to take care of. As the wild race unfolded, the villagers cheered frantically for their favorites, no one cheered for Maria. She clutched the sack tightly to her chest and, with a final burst of unexpected strength, overtook the brat. From behind, she heard: beggar! People were shaking their fists in the air. She just hugged her prize, her blessing.


(Translated by Andrei-Bogdan Nicola / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / 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 February 2025, the group has 13,650 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.