Under the night sky, we gaze at the neon sign: Heaven's Gate - Inn & Restaurant. A warm light spills from inside, and the scent of grilled meat and fresh bread tempts me. Let's go in, Ioana says, smiling. Inside, the atmosphere feels like an embrace. We order red wine, something to eat, and laugh like never before. This place is perfect, I tell her. Ioana smirks knowingly. TripAdvisor says it's amazing - but every review mentions that the owner never lets anyone leave.
Magdalena Daminescu
When she discovered that gate, life became bearable. She would open it, sit among them, close her eyes, and they would come to life. She saw her grandmother coming in from the garden, her apron filled with everything needed for lunch, while two little girls played in the yard with a baby goat. Then her mother, in her only coat, smelling of joy as she kissed them. Her father, gently tending to the piglets while cleaning their pen. The neighbor, leaning over the fence to ask for a cup of sugar. And everything fell into place, and life carried on.
Yuka Brevi
I was. That's what they called it, so you could understand. Picture a tall gate, wrought iron twisted into curves and ivy leaves, sharp spearheads pointing menacingly at the sky. Bolts and heavy locks - hard to open, right? Only saints, with their bony white fingers, could move them. Through it, glimpses of paradise, like looking through mist. Trees, cathedrals, healthy and full people, peace. The laughter of children, the songs of nightingales. And the only thing keeping you out is that gate. Doesn't that seem a bit too simplistic?
(Translated by Alexandra-Ecaterina Sandu / 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.