Fireworks, Firecrackers, Poppers

Cristian Palade
It's New Year's, a time for celebration. In a forgotten corner of the world, a child sits in his mother's arms, shivering from the cold and hunger, in a bunker amidst bombings. His father died on the front just two days ago. On the other side of the globe, in the center of a large city, a street child has a firecracker explode in his hand, injuring him severely. Just a few steps away, another child laughs joyfully around a lavish table, gazing out the window at the fireworks. Ah, world, as beautiful as you are, you are just as complicated.

Caterina Tudorache
Boss, they're looking at us funny and then laughing. Why are they laughing? Ask them. Well, I don't speak their language. Then curse at them. Boss, I did. One of them laughed, and one went over to his boss and whispered something in his ear. That guy made a phone call. It's not good, boss. A bang calls the next one, who calls the next one. The official entourage looks at their watches, puzzled. But it's not yet midnight. But we can hear the fireworks. The minister coughed and started his wooden speech. In the back, with the border as a net, two groups of people were throwing insults, fists, and firecrackers at each other in turn.

Cecilia Fofiu
He reflects his Oblio-like elongated face in a droplet of dew hanging from a leaf. He makes funny faces, pokes it with his nose, and a rainbow unfolds, surprising a snail bored with the world. Two cones clink, dribbling along, tapping all the ripe puffball mushrooms with the tip of their feet, scattering brown clouds. The smog of spores tickles the nostrils of the drowsy roebuck, whose sneeze tosses it onto the back of Madam Muscaria. Delicately, she shakes her spots, lifts her pleated skirt, and she closes the merry little sprite within the dome, whispering, ready for bedtime.


(Translated by Miruna-Camelia Baicu / 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.