07.02.2026

Monica Bologa
See that toy shop? OK. Walk past it, on the corner there's a bakery, walk past it too, then turn left on the little street. Near a fence you will notice some construction workers digging a ditch, just walk straight ahead, watch out for the manhole without a cover, watch your steps. At the end of the street, you will see a woman holding a phone. That's me. Can you see me? I can see you. OK. Now you can hang up and come hug me. He hung up. Then he disappeared. I forgot to tell him about the pit in front of him.

Eduard Baranovski
I don't know what I've done wrong, ever since we were kids, he has spoilt all my chances. I didn't do my homework, he would tell on me, I copied on a test, more of the same. Then he told dad I was smoking. I endured some serious beatings, and an entire vacation spent inside. In high school, he was the one who told Ana I was seeing her cousin, she nearly knocked out my eyeballs. A year ago, when he made my wife file for a divorce, I wasn't surprised anymore, it was nothing new with him. Today, a romantic dinner with the new fiancé, ring at the door and him standing there full of mud. That's to say, he who digs a pit for another had better dig it deep.

Gheorghiță Mircea
He had started late and daylight was approaching. He hated digging downhill, but that's how all cemeteries were in Aiud. Cheapskates, so much land on even terrain, yet they still choose a hill for the cemetery. The rain was still pouring after so many days and a portion of what he tossed out came back down turned to mud. Finally, the shovel scratched something. He threw the mud out and used the crowbar to crack the lid open. What the hell took you so long? Your man sat drunk with a candle in hand until evening by your grave. The impotent was crying, wasn't he? And in that moment, the earth soaked up by all the water came sliding down over them.


(Translated by Andreea Grințescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / 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.

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