This blanket crushes all terrors. That's what mommy says. The monsters are only in your head, is what daddy says. In my head. I pull it over my head. Ah, a cold wind is blowing. It was me, I breathed close to my hand. Thump. He gets out from under the bed. I freeze. He's cold. I patter quickly across the floor. Bang. Something flies from the bed. He's coming. I push the door open like Hulk. Something shatters. Daddy is covered in shards from the good plate. Mommy comes into the room and we discover that I got scared from a toy car forgotten in bed. I sleep between them smelling blood and candle scent.
Varinia Mitrea
I look at each piece closely and place it carefully next to the others, as if I arranged fragments of a precious memory. Each fits perfectly with the next one, like a puzzle in which not only the shape matters, but also the story of each bit. When the shards meet, I start to regain my outline broken by the darkness. The light passes through the cracks, making me more fragile, but also more valuable. I am a piece of clay, and each chip makes me unique among other porcelain figurines.
George Dometi
The clouds, a paste made of quartz, kaolinite and feldspar, were hanging over the streets. The wagons were ready. The passengers were on the way. The platform was empty. An incredible racket, pushed by the points of bayonets, announced the forming of the convoy. They were leaving behind orphanages and shelters emptied of little boys and girls. Get on quietly, if you cry you get a bean between your eyes. Understood? The frail, tired bodies were like vessels in which a priest was pouring hope through the prayers he whispered.
(Translated by Raluca Sălcianu / 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.