20.02.2026

Monica Aldea
Isabela had been doing her research for the unusual experiment-A Study on the Fear of Death. She had full freedom and an official document to keep her from being committed to a sanatorium. The key element would be handled by Nick. He assured her everything would seem utterly real. Night had already fallen when she tossed the mannequin's head into the street, right beneath a lamppost, for a touch of authenticity. Everything had been carefully planned. Or so she thought. Nick handed her the bag and vanished. Isabela followed shortly after. A few drops of warm blood stained the silk of her dress.

 Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
Joy, wonder, and an unnamed fear swelled in his chest that day, threatening to split it open. Then came the sleepless nights, the weeping like a knife to the temple, the cracked skin, the diapers, the milk fever, the rocking, the colic, the reflux, the regressions, the teething, the mental leaps, the fever, the snot, the tantrums. Countless evenings where two strangers meet in the same bed, back to back, eyes fixed on their phones. Sometimes, she wants to turn him around and shake him. Who are you? she wants to scream in his ear. But instead, she falls asleep with a tear clinging to her lashes.

 Cristian Palade
On a beautiful summer's day, seated at the stone table in the garden, Pythagoras sipped dry red wine, shaped a triangle from olive twigs, and etched some calculations, filling parchment after parchment, and emptying glass after glass. Pleased with his achievements, yet hopelessly drunk, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. He awoke, hungover and disoriented, no longer recognizing his own work-and tore it all to pieces. This curious cycle repeated itself daily, until one afternoon, more inebriated than ever before, he stirred from slumber, forgot what he had done, and, moments later, forgot that he had forgotten. The rest, as they say, is history.


(Translated by Ioana Andreea Radu / 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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