Iulia Stavre
I took a seasonal job as a bartender at an exclusive seaside villa. Summer break, sunny long, hot days. Like American coffee. When word got out that the entire villa had been rented by an Oscar-winning actress and her staff, the whispers roared louder than the waves in a storm. We work hard. Last night, I dedicated a cocktail to her and told her I'd put it on the menu with her name. She took a selfie with me and posted it on Instagram. Overnight, I went viral. And so did the job offers.
Monica Ciurea
At the prom, the prince had made up his mind, he was going to be a dragon. After all, his old man was the richest guy in town. So, this guy rolls up, parks his convertible in the street, and waits. Keeps shifting on his heels, eyes locked on a tiny thing who-no matter what she wore, even a sack, still turned every head. Because, really, being raised by a widowed mother who made a living with just a needle? That was something. Beyond the gossip, the fairy tale says that night, in his car, she flat-out refused to be his queen. That is, until he got down on one knee, slipped a ring on her finger, and signed over the kingdom, along with himself, to her name.
Camil Popescu
Good morning, Decebal. Good morning, my queen. I've prepared breakfast for you: goat cheese with tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and those long yellow things that grow in our lands across the ocean. Decebal looks at his wife and swallows hard. He'd eat the whole goat that's how hungry he is, but he's on a diet. Wake up my father, says the king, peeling a banana. Père Scorilo, come to the table. From the bushes of Sarmizegetusa, a voice grumbles: Trajan, are we attacking again or what? They're gonna finish all the bananas.
(Translated by Larisa Marta Mreană / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.