Lately, the light doesn't turn on when I enter the house. I have a sensor bulb that used to activate automatically. The same thing happens in the kitchen. Yesterday, I waved my hands in the air, trying to trigger it. The one in the yard suffers the same fate. Only when raindrops, carried by the wind, hit it does the cold light reveal a cross, overgrown with weeds. And Rocky, the neighbor's Rottweiler, barks at me. Stop barking, there's no one there, I hear - though I stand in the light's glow and see them.
Monica Bologa
I put a bottle of wine in my basket and head to the checkout. The cashier smiles at me and says, You have such beautiful eyes. I leave the store without touching the ground, floating home. I turn on the music, open the windows, wash the pile of dishes, dust the shelves, throw out the empty bottles - and the full ones. I take a shower, look in the mirror. I'm fine. I'm fine. Today, I go back to the store. I buy a bag of cheese puffs. I wait in line. In front of me, a guy. The guy pays. The cashier smiles at him and says, You have such beautiful eyes. I step firmly on the ground as I walk home and close the windows.
George Dometi
after he drowned me. I'll take two medium-sized onions, chop them finely, then do the same to the carrot, celery, parsnip root, and bell pepper. In a cast-iron pot, I'll place them alongside two tablespoons of pork lard. I'll sauté them well, then I'll carve you up and add just enough water to cover you. That's what Jeffrey Dahmer said to my severed head, which stared back at him cross-eyed from the wooden countertop - while my soul sank through the table, the floor, the earth, all the way home.
(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.