Cecilia Fofiu
After listening to the sorcova carol sung by Maria's great-grandchildren, brought by their parents to the old village, forgotten by the world, the widow of Cătană Ion locked up the birds and set Grivei free. Groaning, she sits down on the handcrafted chest adorned with birds and flowers, she turns on the transistor radio that hums Romanian traditional music, which she loves very much. It reminds her of the traditional dances from her youth that lifted her skirts so high, leaving Ion flabbergasted. Loud explosions, she swiftly grabs from the pantry her deceased's gas mask and puts it on, she bursts out into the street with the dog, shouting: run, the Russians are coming.
Gheorghiță Mircea
He had always relied on fireworks, using his natural cleverness to decorate or alter the reality surrounding him. His childhood had made him hate rooms with moldy walls and garbage thrown out the window between the blocks. He plastered and painted all 33 square meters of walls and ceiling of the room as he had seen in pictures taken of The Last Judgement from the Sistine Chapel. He opened the window climbed the pile of junk among the firecrackers and fireworks, poured gasoline on everything, checked his watch and set it on fire. Happy New.
Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
Man, what a beautiful woman she was. I still don't know why she chose me. She extended her finger, with a ring on it and bent it as a beckoning sign. I have no idea what she saw in a middle-aged man, wearing a wedding suit such as me. Going down the aisle, towards her, I could feel dozens of fireworks going off in my stomach, making me grin like an idiot. It was as if I were Pavlov's dog. And the night we spent together? Firecrackers, man. Scratch that, hell, it was a nuclear bomb, I swear. My whole body hurt for a week. I was living in a bubble of infatuation. My bubble popped when the pruritus started.
(Translated by Adina-Lorena Dulamă / 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 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.
