12.04.2026

Ana-Maria Butuza
Gore opened his eyes wide, read it again, was amazed, rejoiced, shouted for himself, then shouted so his wife, children, all his family, the building, and the city could hear that he, Gore Țugui, had been chosen. Out of everyone, he had been chosen. It was written in black and white. He didn't know for what, but that didn't matter as much as the fact that someone had deemed him worthy to be chosen. He grabbed the magazine and ran to show it to everyone. From now on, he would not allow anyone to laugh at him. At the entrance of the building, he found a stack of magazines. He flipped through them, hoping, but in everyone, he found the same announcement.

 Elena Fermuș
Like any young lady who values her ancestors' traditions, on the night of Epiphany, I too placed some basil under my pillow. Maybe, just maybe, I'd dream of my chosen one. I don't even remember how many times I had done this. And time, tick-tock. Me, thinking, maybe this year. Damn if any dream would stick to me. Out cold. Right on that very night, because the rest of the time, I dreamt like a madwoman. I thought maybe I hadn't put enough basil, so the last time, desperate, I filled my entire bed with it. Green, green. And I dreamed of a flock of sheep. Without a shepherd, damn it.

 Arthur Ianoși
Alec, as the prince of poets in Sufi tradition used to say, may his Persian be light, the wound is the place where the light enters, and you are right in this situation. You are not wounded, you are pierced. All you need to do is welcome me into your soul, and I will explain to you what promiscuity means. You see, my cursed friend, the judge has decided. It's called child support. Even though the twins don't look like you, I'll call you father. Hey, Costeluș, your coat is riddled with moth holes, I came to ask if you know any good tailors.


(Translated by Claudia Garofina Greculeac / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan, coordinator of the translations / Edited 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 April 2025, the group has 13,740 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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