19.12.2025
Elena Fermuș
I tossed the bouquet over my shoulder and hurried off with my brand-new husband. Wow, the honeymoon. He had tears in his eyes. I thought it was from the grandeur of the moment. But no. He told me it was his first trip without his mommy. That's how the nightmare began. A picture of his mother on the nightstand, his childhood teddy bear on the bed. And everything had to be filmed, for mommy to see. The cream in his coffee, the coconuts. How he hopped around all day, unable to stand still from missing her. At night, he'd collapse. Sleepy time. And just like that, I returned from my honeymoon exactly as I had left. A miss.

Ana-Maria Butuza
Zofia had driven the heels of her shoes into the parquet, as if she had anchored the earth. Darling, today we're rehearsing the ocho cortado, she said with a charming smile. Mr. Bielski, tense as a statue, whispered, I don't dance. But she was already executing a boleo in the air, throwing him promises of chaos. Tango is not optional, she said, pulling him by the lapels towards her. After three hesitant giro turns, his ankles trembled, unable to follow the rhythm or the logic of the steps. Darling, he groaned, I feel like I'm dying. She gently bit his ear: Since when have you been promising that?

Nelson Ciotoi
The railway was long and cold. The soles of his feet cooled at the contact with the metal. He had kept his balance for so many meters, and now this switch forced him to step to the side. He had no choice but to step between the iron forks. Crack, it was suddenly heard, and his ankle broke like a matchstick. He screamed as loudly as he could, out of fear and pain, but there was no one to hear him in that wasteland. Perhaps a stray dog. He cried so loudly that he didn't hear the train approaching at high speed.


(Translated by Claudia Garofina Greculeac / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / 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.

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