Footwork

Lucian Pătru
The brimstone bubbled and frothed. Satan deftly scooped up some embers and set them down while crouching. This isn't Heaven, is it? he pondered, his red eyes catching the glow of the burning coals, as he tossed an apple into the fire to roast. Didn't see you there - want one too? he asked, noticing Death, who had settled beside him. But what's with all that junk you're dragging around, you fool? he added, nodding toward the pile of black swaddling clothes and pacifiers stacked on a little stool beneath the curve of her scythe. Eh, I'm trying to stage my own birth, she sighed, but with no success. I don't want an apple. I want dust and ashes.

George Dometi
Man, you've got the face of a goody-two-shoes. At best, I could cast you as a priest, an intellectual, or some born-again Christian. If I want a laugh, I'll have you play a woman. But a bad boy? No way. Sorry, but you know what other kind of face I have? I say, after listening to this director - who, by the way, still asks his mom: Mommy, what did you make for dinner? I've got the face of a chameleon. I can make anything you want. Once, I went a whole week without eating just to slim down for a split-second shot - don't you think I could pull off an ankle dance in Underground?

Horațiu Dudău
I was eagerly waiting for him to invite me to his birthday party. Besides the fact that I love a good party, the guest list was another reason - high society would be there, and it'd be the perfect chance to make myself known. I got ahead of myself and started bragging left and right that I'd be there, that I'd already been invited. But the last day came, and I got nothing. Ion asks me what time I'm coming. Bro, Ion, I'm not coming anymore. The time has come for me to stop crawling home drunk on my knees, begging my wife for forgiveness. I'm staying home. With dignity.


(Translated by Marian-Cătălin Niculăescu / 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.