Almost every night I go outside and look at the starry sky. All is quiet. The city is resting in sleepy bliss. Only in the distance the roar of guns can be heard. By listening to it, you calm down. It’s far away…
I’ve been like this for six years. When the war started, I was too young and didn’t think about the fact that someone is suffering. What can you understand at 5-years-old? You can remember something, but precisely to understand and worry about others – no. But time goes on. I’m growing up. I am afraid not only for myself, but also for others.
My parents watch the news, where they show the same war. And I understand that we are similar to the children in Syria. We are all children of one great war. My friends-journalists told me that in one of the shelters in Europe, a Syrian woman reads fairy tales to orphaned children. I also write fairy tales and tell them to everyone. Because I know that the war can’t go on forever. Just like rain, which necessarily ends, and then there is bright sun.
And even though we children who live in war get used to explosions and deaths, we continue to believe in a fairy tale. Because magic does not allow you to give up, giving hope for the world. So far, only hope. Because life, unlike my stories and the stories of that Syrian woman, can be unfair and cruel. But still, every night I go outside and look at the starry sky. I believe that my dreams can come true. Perhaps in Damascus or Aleppo there is a girl like me who believes in fairy tales and writes them for the children of Donbass. And no matter how scared she is, she tells her magic story. And as long as it is told, the world lives in hope.
Faina Savenkova (resident of the Lugansk People’s Republic)
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