May 6, 2022 #Antytvir: Darya Kryvets

Flash essays from the collection “Wars. Ukrainians. Humanity” tell about the insights, experiences, and beliefs of Ukrainians, that ignited their society in 2022, when the full-scale russian invasion of Ukraine began.

The Cultural Hub community and curators carefully collected, translated, and illustrated these texts to capture the values ​​of Ukrainians — Freedoms, Bravery, Dignity, Responsibility, and Humour.

A series of publications in partnership with Chytomo introduces this collection to the English-speaking audience. Volume 18 continues to present the series. You can get acquainted with the previous collection here.

This essay was written in 2022 for Antytvir, a writing contest for teens. It is an educational project by Mystetskyi Arsenal at the International Book Arsenal Festival. Its goal is to promote creative writing among high school students and create a platform for expressing yourself in a non-standard way. The organizers designed this project in 2020 and 2022 to support Ukrainian youth in highly stressful situations by allowing them to write and make their voices heard. Cultural Hub translated into English, illustrated, and added these texts to the “Wars. Ukrainians. Humanity” programme as a special series of wartime writings.

Darya Kryvets, 16 years old
On the verge of madness

I was so much afraid of the war that I was petrified with the very thought of it. Recently, we have been hearing about the possible attack from all media, and I could not sleep in the nights. I was tormented with obsessive terrible thoughts, and a lot of awful pictures appeared in my mind. I remember that once I got so nervous that burst into tears right at my geography class. Only the dreams about the expected graduation party could turn my flow of thought towards the bright future.

On February 23 martial law was introduced. We realized that disaster was approaching us. Mom was reassuring me, though she was rather trying to calm herself down. My brother, who is two years older, already a student, spent a lot of time writing some notes and looking for information in social media. We don’t have a father, he left us after my birth, that is why my brother is my only defender.

And here is this morning of the 24th… It got carved in my memory for all my life. I fell asleep only at 2 pm, and already about five I was awaken by a loud explosion. I did not wake up, I “jumped” from my bed. I rushed to my mom, but she was just staring at me, with her eyes scared. Then several more explosions came. The walls of the house started shattering. I fell to the floor, scared, and my mom, not getting up from bed, twisted into a circle. Andriy, my brother, rushed to mom’s sleeping room and sat down at the wall.

“We should collect things: first aid kit, water, documents. Take some warm clothes”, he commanded and ran to his room.

Mom, finally recovering, jumped in her bed and started looking for documents. And me… I crawled to the wall and was sitting their, embracing my knees with my hands. I kept silent, while hot tears were running down my cheeks. It seems I was not even thinking then, it was emptiness, dark awful emptiness. Fear was absorbing all my energy, and it seemed to me that if I moved, I would just split into atoms.

I don’t know for how long I was sitting so, but my mom and Andriy were ready and tried to make me move.

“Bring her some water. Find some sedatives”.

My brother disappeared behind the door, and mom started petting me on my head and saying something. They did not find any sedative, but tried to give me some water to drink. And when they understood that everything was in vain, Andriy took me to the basement on his arms. We found some old mattress and blanket. Luckily, there still was some electricity in the basement.

When the explosions subsided, I finally recovered and just started crying. Even Andriy tried to calm me down, but I could not subside until the tears finished.

We stayed in the basement for several hours. Mother was hugging me, and then she fell asleep, while the brother was monitoring the news. Closer to the evening time we intended to get back to the building to have some shower. The relatives said that “we will be bombed at night”. We spent the night in the basement, if that can be called spending of the night. I did not sleep at all, the mother slept for some time, and Andriy fell asleep right away.

Luckily, we had something to eat (mom bought some foodstuffs on the 23rd), but the shelves were already empty in the shops. But they started bringing humanitarian aid soon.

The days were passing by: in the evening — explosions and the basement, in the daytime — at least some sleep. We started being afraid of the night, like of the horror movie. It seemed that the evil was getting awake in the twilight. Everything left was to pray. And every night and morning we prayed with tears in our eyes.

We were offered to leave, but we did not dare. We did not want to leave our house. Sometimes I even had some optimism when I read some good news: about the “Ghost of Kyiv”, about the destroyed convoys of the enemy’s machinery, about assistance and support from Europe, about volunteers from other countries… But such illusory joy lasted not for long.

A week later our urban village was occupied by the invaders. The explosions could be heard so close that windows collapsed, and the plastering fell from the walls. We did not leave the basement, even when we already had no water. Planes seemed to be flying above our heads.

When orks started searching at the buildings, a neighbour with two children joined us. Her husband, a paratrooper, went to the war on the second day of the invasion, and she could not get in touch with him. She explained that she was forbidden to use phones for safety reasons. The children, a boy of five and a girl of three, were crying, scared. They were clinging to the scared mother who was already on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

The noise of explosions and the exclamations of those… could already be heard more and more often. I even don’t know what to call them. I don’t realize: do they truly believe in their innocence? Are they not afraid of God’s anger? They easily kill and even don’t hear any voice of conscience. But there arises a great question; do those savages, barbarians generally have conscience?

And those villains finally visited us. At first they laughed, wildly laughed at how a baby was clinging to the neighbour. And then some order came by their walkie-talkie, and they took Andriy somewhere, at the gun shot. Mom cried, prayed, and then cried again.

He was brought back in the evening. He was all beaten, with his clothes torn away, full of blood. We started treating the wounds. Broken nose, several ribs and fingers, bruises across the body, swollen lips and eyes… But we were happy anyway, since he was alive.

When he started recovering, he told what had happened. He and twenty other boys were taken to the russian checkpoint. They were examined for availability of tattoos. Those on whose bodies tattoos were found were interrogated and executed. Some were killed just for vulgar words. Andriy and three more boys were beaten for their now knowing anything, and everything they had with them was taken away. They were told that they would be interrogated several days later.

The next day food they brought us some food. Threw it to us as to dogs and told to eat it slowly since such “gifts” would be rare, if any. Some food was given to the children, Andriy, and me. Mom with the neighbour ate just several slices of bread, though they wanted to eat no less than we did. Luckily, two days later Andriy’s friend, Oleksii, came to us and brought some food. He was beaten together with his brother, but he was beaten less, and he was a boxer, so he could better tolerate this. He said that three days later some residents were intending to escape in the night time across the woods. russians refused to arrange any green corridors, so here people got at least some hope for rescue. He also decided to escape. It is better than to be waiting for the orks’ “mercy”. There was only one question: how to take Andriy, since he could not walk. Though he said he would tolerate this and would go together with everyone. But it was not the case…

As promised, russians started taking boys once again. Andriy was taken, though mom asked to leave him. He was brought back in the evening, bleeding again. When mom saw his injured face and almost all fingers broken, she could not but say “bastards, savages” and spit on the ground under orks’ legs. There were three of them, two — low, with narrow eyes, and the third one — with a dark beard and dense frowned eyebrows. The latter angrily looked at my mom and said:

“Repeat”.

“Bastards, savages”, said mom, sitting on her knees near Andriy.

“Good”, said the russist and viciously smiled. He directed the machine gun at Andriy and… shot at his breast.

At that moment something broke in me. I could not breathe, awful pain pressed my heart, and some sand seemed to have appeared in the lungs. Then everything was like in the mist. Mom was crying, but no, she was just howling. She attacked the ork, but he hit her on her face. I wanted to come up to her, but my neighbour took me by the hand.

“One more word about me”, he roared to my mom in russian, “just one movement, and all your family will follow your son of a bitch. Clear?”

Mom was keeping silence and was rudely staring at his wolfish eyes.

“Clear”, he said and went away inviting his allies to follow him.

Mom burst into tears, hugging our dead Andriy, hitting his body, asking him to wake up. But he was just lying, in solitude, unmoving, already calm.

I went to the corner not to hear those heart-breaking cries. I could not even cry so much shocked I was. I could not realize that he had just left. No! He could not leave us like that. That was unfair. I was angry with him since he was just lying, keeping silent, the blood in his veins was getting cold, since he had left me.

That was an awful night. Mom kept crying non-stop, shouting “My little son!” and desperately trying to wake him up. Our neighbour clasped her children to her breast trying to close their ears for them not to see and not to hear that sinister weeping. But children were afraid anyway, they were still shaking from the recent shot, and could not sleep. I still don’t understand how I could generally fall asleep in that hell.

And I leaned against the wall again and was embracing my knees with my arms. I was not crying, tears were just rolling down my cheeks in thin streams. But the dark abyss in my soul torturing me became even wider, darker. And I fell into it the moment he was killed. I fell and collapsed, died together with my brother. That awful dull pain destroyed me. Fear crushed me as an insect. It seemed that I was on the verge of madness. Death was hanging above my mind as a black cloud, as a flock of black ravens incessantly pecking my brain. Their eyes were glittering with fierce fires. But no, those were not raven’s eyes, those were the eyes of that ork who had killed Andriy. That rude barbarian whose soul was as black as those raven’s wings …

Oleksii came in the morning with some food, and he wanted to ask whether we would try to escape that night. He was all in bruises and was limping. When he saw killed Anrdiy — he went pale. I saw him cry for the first time ever. They had been friends since the first grade. They had been sitting at one desk, going for walks together, going to picnics together, they even tried smoking together. And here was his best friend — cold, with a bullet in his breast.

“We must burry him”, Oleksii said in a weak voice. “Let me go and dig a grave under the pear tree, it’s breakfast time for orks, they will not see it. Say goodbye to him in the meantime”.

Tears again, tears of the injured female wolf. The neighbour kept sobbing to herself. When her husband was on his business trips, Andriy often helped her at her household, and then he got some souvenirs from the trips, and he made a collection of them. He was kind…

An hour and a half later Oleksii, all in dirt, came to us. He took my brother on his arms to the grave, and there was a large sack near it, with grain stored there before.

“No, that is wrong”, shouted mom on looking at that sack.

“I know”, Oleksii said in a low voice. “But there is no other choice”.

Tears started rolling down mom’s cheeks, but she was no longer shouting. She approached Andriy in silence, kissed him on his forehead, and went back to the basement. Nobody stopped her, just followed her with sad looks. Oleksii looked at me, with the question in his eyes. I shook my head in denial and whispered just with my lips: “I cannot”. How painful it was! Tears betrayed me and started pouring from my eyes, but I wiped them off with the dirty sleeve of my jacket. I will not allow myself to cry. I will become stronger. Not for my own sake, but for Andriy’s sake, for mom’s sake. I will not cry.

The neighbour also kissed my brother, and, together with the children who had been clinging to her like moss all the time moved away from the pit.

“Will you help?”, asked Oleksii in a low voice.

I nodded, and we put the sack on Andriy together. I tried not to touch him not to feel the cold of his body. Making a heavy sigh, Oleksii put the sack into the grave, made the sign of the cross, read a prayer. Then he threw a handful of earth three times into the grave. I did the same. And Oleksii started silently filling the grave. orks’ laughter could be heard somewhere close to us…

“Go to the basement. I will fill the grave and come”.

We obediently went to the basement. Mom was sitting against the wall and looking into nowhere. I sat down side by side with her, but she did not move. Then Oleksii came. He sat down near me and just hugged me, and I put my head on his shoulder. And so I fell silently asleep. Oleksii also leaned his head against mine and fell asleep. And when we woke up, mom was quietly singing together with the neighbour. The neighbours little daughter had high temperature, and they were trying to lull her with a lullaby after giving some syrup to her. Me and Oleksii agreed to try and escape that night. Then he left.

The sun was slowly going behind the horizon, it was getting colder. The sky was black with darkness and smoke. Oleksii came against at midnight. He took the little girl on his arms. We took our belongings and started our way.

Thanks God, it was moonlight, and one could see the silhouettes of damaged buildings. There were dead bodies — large bodies, but also little, children’s bodies on our way…

I was terrified with just one look at those perished children. What had they done to them? Were they afraid? Loved their parents? Wanted to live? Or, maybe, they had threatened them?

“Barbarians, savages!”, my mind was full of such thoughts.

Some people were already waiting near the forest. About fifty dark figures. Old man, Mykola, the forester, was the chief one. He knew that forest like the back of his hand.

Waiting for some half an hour, we moved into the forest darkness. We were silently walking between pine trees, afraid of stepping on a mine. The eyes were already accustomed to darkness.

We walked for about a kilometer when some shots came. We were persecuted. Everybody started running to different sides. The cannonade of shot came again, followed by some cries. Mom caught me by the hand, and, passing by the trees, was running after Oleksii. But soon we lost sight of him and were just running, without thinking where.

The shelling was becoming louder. And suddenly mom’s hand got weak. She left my hand and started falling to the ground. I caught her, — and became petrified. There was blood soaking through her clothes on the back.

“No, no, no!”, I leaned upon her.

“Run… please, run… ”, she whispered and closed her eyes.

My eyes got dark… My heart just collapsed. The last of the people near and dear to me died in my arms. How much I failed to tell her. Why? Why was I left again? I cried, though I promised I would not. I was sitting and hugging my mom, so young. There was blood on my hand, it was burning my soul. Death again. Again on the verge of madness.

I stood up and started going, as if in some mist. Going backwards. “Let them kill me as well. Why shall I live”. I was going without turning my head back. Explosions were coming. There were killed people lying under trees. I heard some unclear sounds close to me. I came closer — my neighbor was lying there, and her little Serhiy, with tears in his eyes, was trying to wake up his mom who was already in eternal sleep. My legs felt numb, and I leaned above the boy.

“Serhiy, calm down. Shush. That’s it, calm down. Everything will be fine”.

“What is wrong with my mom?”, he asked.

“She is sleeping. She has got tired”.

“I must save him. He must live!” — the idea flicked in my mind. And I took the boy by the hand.

“Let’s go with me. Let’s go”.

“No. Mom. I will not go without my mom”.

“Shush. She will wake up and follow us. Listen, let’s go”.

He looked at me with a scared look. Shots came again. The boy shuddered, and, after his last look at his mom, said:

“I will go with her, fine?”

There was no answer.

“Let’s go”, I whispered, and we went away.

We were going slowly, making pauses all the time and listening, whether there is no one close to us. Suddenly some shots came very close to us. We hid behind the tree, but one bullet still hit me. Hot blood started running down the arm. Thanks God, the shooter failed. The bullet passed by but hit the arm, a bit below the shoulder. When everything subsided, I tore a piece of my sweater and put some bandage on my arm. I did not cry, though it was really infernal pain. The main thing was to take Serhiy out. I took his small hand, cold with frost, and took him across the woods.

An hour later the boy got tired. We sat down to have some rest. And there came some quiet steps somewhere amidst the trees. I was petrified. Serhiy clang to my leg.

“I feel scared”, whispered the child.

“Shush”, I hissed, but it was already too late.

A heavy man’s hand was placed on my shoulder.

I turned back — it was Oleksii. Zoriana, Serhiy’s little sister, was sleeping on his back tied with some clothing. I hugged him. He put my body close to his, and I gasped (because of pain in my arm).

“Are you wounded?”, asked Oleksii.

I nodded and showed my arm. He took the bandage out of the pocket of his jacket and a small bottle of spirits.

“I have taken it with me, just in case”, he smiled.

I took off my jacket. Oleksii carefully treated my wound. We sat down, leaning against the tree. Zoriana was quietly snoring, while Serhiy leaned his head on my leg.

“Is this Serhiy?”, whispered Oleksii.

I nodded.

“I found him near Natalia. She…”

I could not utter that word. I have already seen too many deaths.

Oleksii slowly got up.

“We should go. It is cold. The children will get sick”.

I got up, took Serhiy by the hand, and we went on.

Day began to break. The sun rose an hour later. And we kept going. Serhiy was already not going, but rather crawling. He was too tired and hungry. But he kept silent, even did not cry. All of a sudden Oleksii stopped. He looked at his leg and got pale.

“What, what has happened?”, I asked, being at a loss.

“A mine”, he whispered.

It seemed to me that I started losing conscience. But I somehow took control of myself.

“What shall I do?”, I asked in a trembling voice.

“Calm down, for a start. Listen attentively. Now you will carefully take Zoriana. And go, go until you reach the road. Stop some car. And call the Ministry of Emergencies, tell them everything. When they take me from here, I will find you. Just don’t cry”, he implored me.

But tears were already running down my cheeks. I will not stand one more death.

“Calm down. Shush. Take Zoriana and go. Just watch the ground. Good?”

I nodded. I took Zoriana who was still sleeping. Oleksii helped me tie her to my back. I took him by the hand.

“Everything will be fine”, he whispered and kissed my palm. “Please, go.”

I carefully hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. He smiled.

“Good. But live, please. Don’t leave me”.

“I will not”, he said, producing a sad smile. “Go”.

I took Serhiy by the hand and went across the woods. I turned back. Oleksii was still smiling. We went on. I looked down watching at the dark ground full of branches and yellow grass. There were no more mines on our way.

We were going for some half an hour, and I then I heard some distant car noise. “The road” — it occurred to me. We started going quicker.

Finally we reached a highway, but it was empty. We waited. I was afraid of going anywhere since I could lose my way to Oleksii, and I was afraid of losing him as well. He was the only one left. The only memory of my house, brother and mom, the only one I loved. The last person near and dear to me. He had always been staying side by side with me all my life long. He always supported me, took care of me, defended me. Even Andriy was sometimes jealous. And by no accident. I loved him more that my brother. I did not tell this, I was afraid to. And now I am not afraid. But I still did not tell this, postponed it.

“Why are we standing?” whispered Serhiy.

“We are waiting for some car”, I whispered in return.

I did not want to speak loud. I was afraid of scaring this silence.

“And why Oleksii did not go with us?”

“He will catch up. He…”

The noise could be heard in the distance. A car. Finally. That was a moment of blessing. I seemed to have recovered. A red foreign car was going towards us. On seeing us, the driver, an old gray-haired man, stopped the car.

“Children, where from have you got here?”, he asked us in astonishment.

I told him everything. About our escape, about the children, and about Oleksii. He let us inside the car, gave us something to drink, and called the rescue brigade. We waited. Serhiy immediately fell asleep. He was so tired. Zoriana woke up, cried a bit, and soon calmed down. An hour later the rescue brigade came. I told them everything, and they went to the forest.

“I will take you to my place, good? You will have some shower, something to eat.”

“No. Let us wait for Oleksii.”

“Your Oleksii will not disappear anywhere”, smiled the old man. “I have given my phone number to the rescue brigade. The moment they find him they will give me a call. Is he already eighteen?”

I nodded.

“Well, so he is already an adult. Let’s go”.

We went to the old man’s place. That was a short trip. Later I found out that in the night we covered at least thirty kilometers. I still don’t understand how Serhiy could stand such a long journey. He is my hero.

When we came, there was some hot dinner served for us. We had some shower, had dinner, and had some hot tea. The most difficult thing was to explain to Serhiy what had happened to his mom. But Halyna, the old man’s wife, explained it to him in a very delicate and careful way. “We should tell the truth. You will not be able to lie to him for a long period of time”, — she replied when I started imploring her. The boy cried a bit, but then calmed down and started playing with his sister.

Soon Kyrylo, the old man, was given a call and informed that the mine had been disarmed. For the first time over the last month I felt real joy. And then there came a doorbell ring. I was allowed to open the door. That was Oleksii. I literally knocked him off his feet. He hugged me closely, touching my hair with his nose.

“I told you everything will be fine”, he whispered.

“I was so much afraid.”

“Everything is already in the past.”

Then I finally let him into the house. Oleksii was given something to eat and some clothes of the old man’s grandson. These kind people helped us with accommodation until the moment we were taken to the shelter. I am incredibly grateful to them. Thanks to them I managed to recover, to leave that darkness that engulfed me after my brother’s and mom’s death. I am still petrified when the night comes, I still see the death of my relatives in night horrors. Everything I experienced is worse than one can see in any horror movie. But I am glad that I have survived, that I have managed to save Zoriana and Serhiy, that I did not give up. And how much more terror there still is in those invaded towns, where people are tortured, killed, humiliated, raped…

The main thing is not to go mad, to overcome despair, not to cross over the verge of madness, not to give up.

The editorial “rule of small letters” or the “rule of disrespect for criminals” applies to all the words related to evil, like names and surnames of terrorists, war criminals, rapists, murderers, and torturers. They do not deserve being capitalized but shall be written in italics to stay in the focus of the readers’ attention. 

The programme “Wars. Ukrainians. Humanity” has been created by joint effort and with the financial support of the institution’s members of the Cultural Business Education Hub, the European Cultural Foundation, and BBK — the Regensburg Art and Culture Support Group from the Professional Association of Artists of Lower Bavaria/Upper Palatinate.

Author: Darya Kryvets, 16 years old

Translator (from Ukrainian): Halyna Pekhnyk

Illustrators: Nastya Gaydaenko and plasticine panel by Olha Protasova

Copyeditors: Yuliia Moroz, Terra Friedman King

Proofreader: Tetiana Vorobtsova, Terra Friedman King

Content Editors: Maryna Korchaka, Natalia Babalyk

Program Directors: Julia Ovcharenko and Demyan Om Dyakiv-Slavitski