I Felt Like a Different Person

Cristina Daniela Dumitru-Pascal
I knew I wouldn't stay long on Earth. My heart had a little hole. So small that death couldn't pass through it with its scythe. And it kept postponing me. I didn't want to be a blade of grass, living in fear of the upcoming harvest. For me, an extra hour, a day, a month, one way or another, didn't matter anymore. I drank, I smoked, I had sex, I had fun, I sang, I danced, I hurt, I caressed, I laughed, I screamed. When I recovered after the surgery, I looked in the mirror. I recognized my features. That's all. In my chest, I had the soul of another person.

Dorin Vasile
I saw her again after many years. She was coming out of a store, arm in arm with a young man. Without realizing who she was, I noticed her teenage silhouette and fashionable clothes. She leaned toward her partner, whispered something to him, and then burst out laughing. It wasn't until I got closer that I recognized her features. Still, something had changed, and it wasn't just the subtle wrinkles or the different way her hair was styled. She seemed calmer, more confident. Looking at him as if the world was made only for the two of them, she introduced him to me: My son, Andrei.

Ionuț Morariu
He had heard that the most fascinating journey is the one toward yourself. That the road is long, but the reward surpasses anything you can imagine. Filled with hope, he made a caravel out of a cave and sailed for seven years on the waters of knowledge. He befriended Socrates and delivered the truth as one delivers a child. He dived with Maimonides into the depths of the Kabbalah and saw the dance of the letters from the Emerald Tablet. In vain. The only comfort he found was the company of Sheitan. Who would comfort him like this. Neither did I, whenever I searched for myself, ever find anyone at home.


(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.