Cheberko Mariia, 13 years old

Winner of the 2024 essay contest, 1st place

Municipal Institution "Vinnytsia Lyceum № 7 named after Oleksandr Sukhomovskyi"

Teacher who inspired to write an essay - Olena Ivanivna Zasimovych

 

«1000 days of war. My way»

I am three and a half years old. There are strange sounds in the sky. My mum says it's thunder, but I feel something is wrong. The house trembled. Mum closes the windows and says it's thunder again.

We leave the house. It is hot. I see soldiers and big cars. We are leaving Donetsk. Mum says we are going to the sea.

Autumn. The leaves are turning yellow. And we are still at sea. How does it happen?

I am finally going home. I'm happy. I will see my grandma and grandpa. I missed them so much!

There are those strange sounds again. I'm scared. For some reason, I am not allowed to sleep in my lovely room, and we often go away.

This is the first time I've stayed with my grandmother for a long time. For three days! And all because my brother was born.

I am five years old. Music comes into my life. Sometimes we run to class to these terrible sounds. But I am happy!

I am seven. My brother recently turned four. Mum and Dad say we are leaving. It's interesting, but it's strange to leave my home, my friends, my classmates, and most importantly my big family. What about music?

But I'll be living by the sea. My friends say I'll be covered by a tsunami, but I don't believe them. And then what?

Almost four years of sun and sea. The city of Mariia, which I now consider home, my second home. Sunny, warm, blooming. There was a lot of music and my first big projects - a flash mob on Sloboda Square to mark the 30th anniversary of Ukraine's independence, the Summer Art Academy. I am in the middle of the action, in my place.

It's the morning of February 24, 2022. I wake up to strange sounds. Is it again? I don't like it. Today is the Olympiad, and my mum won't let me go to school. I hope we don't have to leave again.

It's cold. It's scary. We often hide in the corridor. There are oranges on the shelf. We sit on the floor and play UNO. We seem to be having fun, but I feel scared inside. Mum bakes bread and says that we are not afraid of anything now.

The lights go out. My fear grew. Mum knits and I read Harry Potter out loud. It's loud outside, very loud! One look from my mother tells me whether I should run to the corridor. I still hope we don't have to leave.

We have shifts. We cook on the fire. There are many people in the yard. We are collecting branches. It is better than sitting in a cold apartment without light. Dad went to look for water. The sounds around us are getting louder and closer, but I know for sure that it is not thunder.

It is night. Something big and shiny flies past the windows. It looks like a comet. It better be.

I never thought that the word "airplane" would be so scary, so heart-stopping. We are playing hide-and-seek with the plane, just like when we were kids. Mum says, 'The airplane.' We run into the corridor. Today, we had to sleep in our hiding place.

March 12. The plane found us.

I was finally warm. The cat purred next to me. It's cramped, but it seems safe. Explosions woke me up: first, second, third, fourth, fifth... Bricks were falling. Is this our house? There was dust, soot, people, chaos all around. The neighbours lost their dog. My cat clutched my mum with his paws. She is holding him tightly, but he is trembling. I hope we can leave.

We are in the shelter. It is safe and finally relatively warm. There are a lot of us. Azovstal is close by.

The plane is looking for us again. I hope it doesn't find our dads when they go to the well for water. The water is bitter and smells like smoke. We are thirsty.

March 15. A journey into the unknown.

The broken, burnt city of Mariia, mined roads. An endless number of checkpoints.

You are greeted by the State Emergency Service of Ukraine. You are in the green corridor. Finally, clean water.

Zaporizhzhia - Kropyvnytskyi - Kamianets-Podilskyi - Vinnytsia.

A bright, friendly city on the Bug. A new life. A new me. New friends. Musician friends - people with whom we are on the same wavelength. I want to become a musician. I choose a way where there is only the beautiful, the good, and the eternal. I want to give the world other sounds, the sounds of life.

My war is not 1,000 days old, it is 10 years old!

I hope I don't have to go back again.