Emiliano's masks were a scarcity at the Carnaval in Venice, made of such fine ceramics that the light shone through them with a divine thrill. Whoever wore them discovered, with a strange fascination, the hidden faces of the others; those faces were faithfully moulded according to the wickedness of the soul. Amazement soon turned into chaos: tears, break-ups, quarrels. The festival was called off and Emiliano was forced to swear never to create masks again. But in his workshop, the lights were burning bright till very late, something which never happened before. People wanted to see the truth.
Răzvan Dițescu
Curiosities, it was written above the door through which strange sounds crept at nightfall. The little girl stepped through the door of the shop. The faces of the dolls on the shelves were frighteningly perfect: their eyes made of glass seemed to watch every movement of hers and their pink lips seemed to whisper something. What are you doing here, child? asked a hoarse voice. From behind the counter, the old woman stared at her. The little girl felt a shiver on her spine and rushed out. She would never know how close she was to become a porcelain doll herself.
Ana Ludușan
Sit down next to me, mommy's dear one, let me hold your hands in mine and talk. I had a thousand chores to do in just two hours, as many as in six, I couldn't leave the house in a mess, I couldn't leave them starve. Let's talk, mom, I said as I tidied the house. There was a dead silence. I turned around. With her back turned, mom was crying so I couldn't hear her. I stroke her head and went back to my chores. After a short period of time mom left us. My soul was a millstone. I didn't offer the best medicine to my mother, my hands.
(Translated by Irina Vild / 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.