I Felt Like a Different Person

Elena Fermuș
Not even a year after the wedding, Elodia was becoming increasingly unhappy. Her husband became a brute, he threw punches at her face without mercy. The woman hid her bruises with foundation cream whenever she left for the market. One day she disappeared. Her man looked everywhere for her. In the bed, under the bed, under the tiles in the bathroom, in her mother's basement, in the fiery forest. His mind got him looking everywhere but Japan. That's where the poor woman hid. Long years of martial arts training had passed, and then she returned. A new person, especially with her black belt in karate. Is your foundation cream ready, hubby?

Titela Durnea
The day was already breaking. She took down the cloth from the window. Her dim eyes sparkled when Voicu began wagging his tail. She moved with difficulty. She warmed up the bone broth for him. Added more wood to the fire. Then she sat down on the chair. Her right hand trembled less than yesterday. She took the photo album from the bench. She talked for about half an hour with the girls and the grandchildren. She looked at her husband, standing proud on the wall, hand on his hip. Nothing is the same anymore, Ilarion. But I have to hold on a little longer. Marta is coming on Saturday. She's bringing the kids too.

Gheorghiță Mircea
I was leaning against the fence, taking a hit at Tase Hangedman's cross. He never had a cross, his poor mother put one up for him. I take a drag from the joint, good stuff. I glance over, Father Agheasmie is next to a coffin, singing for the dead. Sing, priest, maybe he'll wake up and slap a grand on your forehead. I look closer, damn, I'm in the coffin. Hell no. Suddenly, I see the sky closing shut like a lid. Yo, priest, wait. The people saw what looked like smoke coming out of the coffin, but they said it was the soul leaving. On their way home, they found Fane-Nail still, leaning against the fence with a cigarette stuck to his lip.


(Translated by Laurențiu-Gabriel Niculae / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / 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.