Ruined

Horațiu Dudău
He rolled down the car window, took the package, paid without checking its contents. Pressed the gas pedal, glanced at the sky for a second, and headed home. He walked in, sank into the armchair, turned on the TV, tapped Smart View on his phone, and played the last film he'd made a month ago. It looked like a world that had never existed. She was still just a child. Seventeen. He opened the package, smiled, then walked out. Fastened his seatbelt, turned on the Bluetooth. Kill 'Em All. He had no doubt about it. Metallica. For her-his miracle.
 
 Lavinia Petrea
Hello, Dad, tomorrow we're coming over and leaving him with you for the night. Alright, son, I'll wake up early to take my pills, air out the place so it doesn't smell like sickness, your mother will make some carp with garlic sauce and polenta, and I'll have a sip of wine with you. I can't wait, I miss him so much. Are you sure you're up to it, you're not feeling too sick? Son, it's taken a piece of my gut, a piece of my lung, it's ruined my body, it'll take my life too, but to hell with cancer, I won't let it take the joy of holding my grandson in my arms.
 
 David Brescan
From the scaffolding, above the crumbling stones and mortar, he hears the whoops and joy of the apprentices. Like a madman, he throws his hands and the shadows in his heart into the air. Black swirls rise, covering the sun and darkening the blue sky. Beneath the heavy clouds come thunder, storm winds, and downpour; trees creak in the wind and burn in lightning. Streams of water rush down, sweeping up haystacks, branches, fences, and animals, tumbling and cramming them in front of Ana. Ana pushes through; Manole falls to his knees. The last stone falls.

 
(Translated by Larisa Marta Mreană / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)