Ukraine Versus Russia.

Written in response to: Write a story about someone forced out of their home.... view prompt


Kids Sad

(This is a real problem these days. I am so sorry for the Ukrainian people, and honestly, horrified for the terrible things happening. I am so grateful for the people who are taking them in. I am especially grateful for the people who are helping out the children. Thank you for all of your help, and I am sure these kids are so grateful for you. I heard about those who had been taken in by an adult who had an empty house in a poor village. I dedicated this story to him. Thank you so much. You are a real-life hero. Thank you so much, you have made such a difference.)

I am four years old. Recently, only a couple weeks ago, my dad and my mom said that my mom and I were going on vacation. My dad said he wasn't coming back. My mom and I walked for a few days before I came to a village. My mom started crying and told me to wait for her here. She said she would be back soon. "Stay in the village, ok? Don't go with strangers. I love you. Stay brave." I smiled and nodded. Anything for my mother. Soon, it was night. It became apparent all too fast that she was not going to come back. I went and spent the night in the park, and I slept soundly. I woke up crying. My mother was still not back.

I went door to door asking for food. No one let me in after I explained. They didn't really do anything, as sorry as some of them looked. But I knocked on the door of a scary, unkept-looking house. Well, most of them were unkempt, but this one was the most unkept of all the ones I had come across. An older man opened the door. He grunted. He looked like a man who you did not want to cross. I felt honestly scared of him. You would to if a giant man in underwear and a white shirt came to the door with a grunt. He asked me why I was here. I put on my little speel, but halfway through I started crying. I realized my mom still had not come back. Her words to stay brave. But how do you stay brave when you don't have your parents anymore? Do they remember I am here? Did my mother look for me?

The man let me in. He gave me some of his breakfast and comfort. He made me feel safe. His name was Samuel, but I could call him Sam. Sam also had no family left. He said that he was so sorry. He asked me where I used to live. I told him Ukraine and his face darkened. He told me why we went on so-called "vacation." My dad had to stay in Ukraine to fight in the war. I had to be separated from my mother, as she couldn't stay with me at the refugee camp. I was too little to walk to the nearest one. He told me that I could stay with him as long as it took for the war to pass so I can find my mother. He gave me my own room and food. He got me clothes, which I did not have, and entertainment. Which was mostly the news and a few old toys.

It wasn't long before there was another little boy, who Sam also took in. And then more children, and before we knew it, there were nine of us. Sam started to play with us, debate meals, and do other things. We shared clothes, rooms, and toys. Sam started to become like our grandfathers. We called him Pop-pop instead of Sam and crowned him our king. We made him a paper crown he wears in the playroom. One day, weird people came into the house. They asked Pop-pop some questions about us and then asked us about how we felt about living with him. We told them all about what a savior he was to us, and how much we loved to be with him. Even though we missed our families very much, Pop-pop was there for us. Soon the people left, and we saw ourselves on television. We got letters about gratefulness toward Pop-pop for taking us in, and the town got more funding. (The town was very pleased by this, and took in a couple of children as well.)

And Pop-pop got some money for himself to pay for all of us. We got some better clothes, meals, bedroom equipment, and toys. I am so grateful for Pop-pop. It's like he brought us all together to make one big happy family. Once my mother comes back for me, I will have her meet Pop-pop. Once I see my father again, I will tell him of all my adventures of living away. I can't wait to see them again, as I miss them dearly. But living here with Pop-pop isn't terrible. I like it here. I am proud my father is fighting for my mother and me. I am proud my mother was able to think of a plan to keep herself and be safe while the war rages on. Every day I fear a little more than my dad might be dead. But Pop-pop tells us to be brave because that's what our parents are. He makes living here good. It may not be ideal, but this is it for now.

Please let the war end. I, and Pop-pop for that matter. All the children who were here before in the town and now, are begging the person who has caused this war to end. We want our families. We like living here, but we still do miss our parents. Please let the war end. We don't want anyone to get hurt or sick. Please let it all be over with, so that we can all go back to our lives and be happy once more. I am begging you. I don't want my daddy to die because of a war, or my mom to forget me or where she left me because we got separated. The chances of her finding me are so small. Let it end before it's too late?

March 11, 2022 22:09

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