I had fell asleep late last night. Thought I would be exhausted today, but I feel strangely rested. The day is bright, and through the window, not a single sound of honking cars comes in. No cutting sound from that metal cutter that's been at it for months. No tramway rattling down the main street. And... harp music? Who plays the harp in our neighborhood? I speak. My voice is hoarse. Instead of words, I hear croaks. I realize the high-rise across the street has vanished. I flinch - and then I see the yellow feathers on my arms. Well, I've always liked yellow.
Nicolae Popescu
The two collared doves, a male and a female, are almost pecking at the window. Vera scatters millet on the sill - it's their daily ritual. She stays by them until they finish eating. The male fights for the grains, puffs up, and pecks at the female. Even plucks out a feather. Vera waves her wand in the air. That's right, Pricop, struggle as much as you want. Food is the priority now, no more wooing. Looks like you're learning. You've got fifteen days left of the curse, and then I'll lift it, only if you behave. But you should know, neighbor Gilda stays a dove.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
Nothing I ever do is enough. My father looks at me with his heavy eyes, and his words strike like claws. As he scolds me, a giant vulture emerges from his mouth. It has black feathers and a hooked beak sharp as a blade. It lunges at my chest, tearing into it with anger. It rips out my heart and swallows it completely. Then, the bird remains there, in my chest, its wings folded tight, beating slowly like a strangled pulse. I feel myself changing, each beat becoming an echo of his anger, and I disappear into the silence between us.
(Translated by Constantin Grigorescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.