"Witches' Monastery" was four years in the making, but just like a mischievous kid, it decided to see the light of day with the "best" timing possible: during the greatest war in Europe since the second World War.
The novel was born among screams of countless missile alarm, soul-crushing noise of someone's home falling to dust, mothers' heart-wretching screams and their prematurely gray hair.
"Witches' Monastery" was four years in the making, but just like a mischievous kid, it decided to see the light of day with the "best" timing possible: during the greatest war in Europe since the second World War.
The novel was born among screams of countless missile alarm, soul-crushing noise of someone's home falling to dust, mothers' heart-wretching screams and their prematurely gray hair.
Probably, it happened the way it was supposed to happen.
Our characters in the book are learning about their beliefs, while our country, our people strive to find theirs. We believe in Ukraine, its Armed Forces and ourselves. We have no-one else to believe in.
We know too well how stories can drink away a person's pain, since those bloody lines mark the scariest course of history. The right to tell a story about one's pain even that cannot be put into words is the right every Ukrainian has.
Unfortunately, this right has been brazenly blurred by an apathetic and tolerant sign "this content might disturb you".
This platform is ours. Fortunately, we, the creators behind this project, are well-versed in English and Japanese and we shall translate and tell the world your war stories at worlds.in.ua.
Here Facebook won't delete a picture how someone's father lost his arm.
Here Instagram won't hide a post where a 12-year-old kid has to bury his mom and dad next to the ruins that once were their home.
We won't keep silence. And our words shall be louder than rascists' bullets.
You can tell us your war story at any of our social media outlets, then we are going to translate it later and post on our website.
