Aunt Mia couldn't sleep. Melancholy took over her, early in the morning: mornings are so beautiful, bathed in the May sun's gentle rays. But, something that's even more beautiful is the aroma of the hot coffee, drank out of this porcelain cup: It's a bit chipped, so what? She said this, as if saying it for herself, but out loud, in order for Puiu[1] to hear. She swung faster on the porch swing, making the decaying planking squeak under her weight. The old man placed his pillow over his head and faced the wall: Oh, dear woman, silence is such a beautiful thing too... he sighed.
[1]Puiu is used as a name of endearment in this context. It means chicken or baby.
Iulia Biro
It was a rare copy: white and pink, immaculate, no impurities or asperities. You could tell the previous owners took care of it. He was the third one, the one who will make it a piece of art. His Japanese-style painting would make it spectacular, an enjoyment who only a few members of the HuPo Society, Human Porcelain, will experience. He checked its vitals and conscience. The copy was healthy and under anaesthetic. He played some music, prepared some needles and paints and started with an arm. He's going to work on the face tomorrow, Friday is his lucky day.
Răzvan Dițescu
Everyone was telling her that her beauty is indescribable. Smooth skin, flawless, like the finest porcelain. Her eyes - big and luminous, but also stony. A beauty that is to be admired, but not to be touched. When people asked her if she was happy, she smiled. When people asked her if she was suffering, she smiled again. No wrinkles, no traces, not a sign that the porcelain could break. One night, after she got home, she touched her cheek. She wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come out. Porcelain doesn't cry. It slowly breaks, on the inside.
(Translated by Cristina-Paula Grosu / 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 March 2025, the group has 13,700 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.
