They came at night, when there are dreams of angels…

 They came at night, when there are dreams of angels…

The soul moves away from the body, making the farewell circle.

Am I dreaming? Is it fear? What is it? It is burning and there are flashes around.

No, no, no!

They came at night, when it is the sweetest dream and angels in.

-         What happened? – scared mother-in-law whispers.

-         It is a war! They came for our spirits!

Everyone gathered and rushed to a bomb shelter.

But I stayed. It matters to me – I have to learn to hate him strongly, to the point of crunching in fingers. Him, who had called himself a brother, a kind neighbor, a friend! Enemy…

And now he has come to kill my friends, my family and my kids! The air was vibrating, a fire had broken out somewhere nearby, ambulances and firefighters rushed there.

Save our spirits!

…I often had dreams. Everything that was close to my heart. Hills shrouded in morning fog. The huge and incredibly pretty Usury taiga. And our tiny house with the sun ray in the window. And just a human desire to walk down the streets of my childhood one more time…

I was standing on the balcony, in the roar of breaks and was hating those who stole my dream, who shot with rockets the childhood of my kids.

My relatives were tired, they were losing hearts, there were under-eye bruises due to lack of sleep.

There were fights near Kyiv, really close. At night it is easy to hear.

Polina said once:

-         Dad, you all presented me the life, they want to take it away. I am scared. Save me!

There was a veil of tears in my eyes. They say a man cannot cry. Do not believe it.

-         Now, - I said in a choked voice. – pack up!

-         Daddy, I will take paints, brushes and I am going to paint. There it is quiet and they do not shoot. I took my women and we went. Son stayed. We drove for a long time by detours. We had gotten under rocket fire, but got there safely. The war left far away. About it were reminding only rockets, which flew above our heads.

-         Daddy, when the war is over? – Polina asked me.

-         I guess, not soon, - I answered. – There is a maniac in the Kremlin, he is not going to let go of us so easily.

-         You have grown and was born there. Explain, what they want from us?..

She is just a young girl, how can I explain that I ask these questions and cannot find the answer to them?

-         Come to me, I will hug you.

She came, we hugged. We were standing for a long. I heard her heart beating.

-         Daddy, let us maybe sell my pictures and help our soldiers. We will buy bulletproof vests by this money. And they will come back to their mothers alive!..

And again the veil covered my eyes.

-         My girl, lovely daughter, you have grown up so fast! – Great idea, - I whispered. – You have a kind soul. We will win immediately, because evil is not supposed to triumph in the world. I know that you dedicated to these pictures a part of the heart. And they will warm those who buy them. Children will come back to their mothers. We saved them, all together!

Years will pass. There will be a picture, painted by a girl, on your wall. Time has stopped in that, it has no power over art. A piece of your soul and goodness is in the picture. This is your contribution to our Victory over evil.

Let everyone be happy!

Yevhen BUTSYK, Ukrainian writer

The author is in the picture