It was my first and only little home, I was imponderable there, twisting in the sweetest, warmest swim, I was pampered and nurtured, why did I ever leave? Now I'm like a stray dog, the wind freezes me out on the streets, oh, mother, I can't stand my wandering through this world that calls me homeless anymore. How lovely it was to be anchored to you, I was happy. If only you knew what I've become, what a bag of bones I've ended up, you probably wouldn't want to give birth to me a second time.
Mona Zelenco
With clenched fists, gritted teeth, and a trail of sweat trickling down his right temple, he delivered the final blow with all his might. Dazed by the moment, he wondered what had driven him to it. Maybe it was the first punching bag he got for Christmas the year his parents divorced, maybe the kids who bullied him for his name, maybe his mistress who had given him an ultimatum. No, no, today, it was her fault alone. She was asking too many questions he couldn't answer. Leaning over the fallen body, he wiped the blood off the corner of her mouth with careful, almost tender strokes, then thought about calling 112.
Dan Banu
It was a storm unlike any other I'd experienced. Trees snapped, the sky torn to pieces, souls left in turmoil. I couldn't close my eyes all night. Toward morning, the wind settled and the sky cleared. That's when I heard the humming. Shadows carrying sacks moved along the shore, gathering what looked to me like fish carcasses washed up by the storm. They glimmered under the first rays of sunlight like living bodies struggling to no avail. Someone handed me a sack, and I started collecting them, shoulder to shoulder with the others-the bodies of days torn apart by time.
(Translated by Andreea-Nicoleta Ban / 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.