Ruined

Răzvan Dițescu
The smell of mold is stronger today. Or maybe it just seems that way. It rained all night, and the humidity has seeped into the walls. Into the clothes. Into me. I grab my phone and look at the call list. The last time someone called me, it was for a subscription offer. I only answered to hear a voice. On the table, an envelope. Eviction notice. Two weeks. In the fridge, a jar of pickles and a bottle half-empty. If I lay down on the floor and stayed still, maybe I would also become a stain like the mold on the ceiling.
 
 Arthur Ianoși
It was the third day when I opened the window to air out, and the cat's carcass was still there, next to the trash bin. It had begun to stink of death mixed with cabbage juice, and despite the calls made to the sanitation service, no one did anything. I stood with my mouth open in a silent scream. The flapping of wings almost made me rise from my wheelchair. I watched in admiration as the bird began to tear apart the cat's stomach. There was nothing left of the creature. The raven returned within me. I closed my mouth. It's full.
 
 Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
He was hidden beside the sacrificial stone. He lit the lamp and prayed. The clatter of weapons, the thundering of rams, the marches and the screams did not disturb him. Hunger haunted the city, leaving death in its wake on the cobblestones. At night, livid creatures emerged from the walls. They met their end in a forest of crosses. The wails rose to the sky, the scorching heat scorched the earth, and people devoured one another. Not a stone will remain upon another, that One had said. But the holy place could not perish. Yahweh, have mercy. Then the fire erupted in the atriums.

 
(Translated by Teodora Anghelachi / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)