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Short Fantasy Story: The River Rises – Chapter 1 (FREE)

Eons ago, when human beings first developed in them a thirst for power, there was a Great War. First, they conquered the land — made weapons out of the earth. Then, they conquered the beasts and trained them to do their bidding. Finally, they conquered each other. Just as it appeared as though there was nothing left to conquer on dry land, they took to the waters. 

Their earliest expeditions were touted as endeavors of scientific inquiry. But pretenses were quickly forgone when they discovered that, beneath the depths of the River Prudence, lurked an entire civilization. A civilization of aquatic elves known as the Qa’Varim whose technology was so advanced — their customs so rich — that humankind could not help but claim it for their own. And, so, they’d found themselves yet another creature to conquer. The Qa’Varim, however, once a peaceful race, had no interest in being conquered. 

The Great War began — a war that would last for centuries. The elves could fare better on land than the humans could in water, but humans wielded such instruments of brutality, a barbarism of which the Qa’Varim were far from capable. Through many years of battle, however, the  Qa’Varim learned to think like humans. Organize like humans. They invented weapons of their own, and trained themselves in the way of combat. They fought underwater to become faster and stronger on land. 

By the end of it all, the Qa’Varim had evolved into a race of warriors. The tides of war had turned in their favor. In the war’s final days, The Counsel of Elves weighed their options: exterminate the humans or enslave them. For, even if they could trust the humans not to violate any terms of surrender they might offer, which they certainly could not, why should they? After everything that’d happened? After what they’d been forced to become? If the Counsel agreed on one thing, it was this.

But Kerithlan was not of the Counsel. He was a young general who led the most skilled unit of warrior elves to ever emerge from the River Prudence. Many would argue that he was the single greatest thing to ever happen to the Qa’Varim war effort. But, despite his facility for it, Kerithlan didn’t care much for war. And, unlike the Counsel, he struggled to muster the constitution to hate the humans. For, just as the elves had learned to fight from their enemy, the humans had slowly but surely learned to love — to care — from the elves. 

Unbeknownst to the Counsel of Elves, Kerithlan had followed in the footsteps of a decades-old faction of elves who secretly established and maintained “safe-zones” to protect human civilians from the throes of war. It was in one of these camps that he met Elsidore, a human girl who put herself in harm’s way time and time again to tend to wounded soldiers on both sides of the war. When he asked her why she would help the elves, she simply replied, “Because they needed my help.”

Kerithlan and Elsidore began to meet in secret. The young general would find any excuse he could to “collect intel” or “scour for supplies.” Anything to justify his absence. He’d trained himself a nearly unstoppable unit, after all. 

He’d fallen in love. And so had she. So, when rumors began to circulate that the Counsel of Elves saw no viability in a peaceful resolution, Kerithlan begged to differ. He requested an audience before not only the Counsel, but his soldiers, as well as civilian elves — as many as they could gather round. He spoke of the Old Ways. He pleaded passionately for peace and harmony among the two races. He even told them of his beloved Elsidore. 

When they objected, “Humans and elves could never live together in harmony,” he said, “If we cannot live as a family, we must live as neighbors.” He’d awakened something among the elves — especially among his fellow soldiers, who, like him, had only encountered a gentler humankind that had long lost its taste for dominion, and had oft looked into the tired, dying eyes of a generation that wondered why it carried on the war of its fathers —  a generation much different than the one their elders had faced. 

Even when the Counsel found itself split down the middle, the warrior elves rallied behind their general and swore to lay down their weapons. There was but one more siege before the war could end. The Qa’Varim, fortunate to be removed from a war that occured mostly on land, were happy to keep its hands clean — to be done with such senseless violence. Little by little, Kerithlan had sold his people on the promise of a peaceful end to the war. Those who refused these terms cast themselves out and took up life on the other side of the river. The truth was, they themselves had developed a taste for war. But, separated from their homes and marred by pride, this small faction of elves died out over the course of the next hundred years.

And so it was that, on the last day of war, the humans surrendered. Kerithlan laid out the terms of peace. The elves would return to the river, and the humans would never again invade the Qa’Varim. To be sure of it, Kerithlan would remain landlocked to spend the rest of his days with his betrothed, helping the humans to rebuild what the war had taken from them and teaching them the peaceful ways of the Qa’Varim. It was his duty, he felt. After all, it wouldn’t be long before he brought into the world a child, whose heart pumped the blood of a human. So began an era of harmony between humans and the world around them. But, such is nature, when their conqueror’s spirit was laid to rest, they slowly but surely made way for the emergence of a new race of conquerors.

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Short Fantasy Story: A Fall of Silver – Chapter 1 (FREE!)

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A Fall of Silver – Chapter 1 (FREE!)

Swells of dark waves lapped against the wax-sealed sides of the Swallow as it made berth in the Felltaen harbor. A steady breeze rippled down the white sails, granting it one final nudge as the anchor dropped and the crew scrambled to unload the precious cargo. Captain Ceri had been at the helm of the Swallow for nearly twenty years, and in all that time she had learned not to take any chances when it came to transporting the steward’s precious Kestel spice. While the steward demanded it, and paid handsomely for it, his interests in protecting it only went so far as the Kestel itself. Protecting the crew from thieves and scalpers was entirely the captain’s jurisdiction.

Ceri grasped the handle of a burning lantern and squinted to peer through the darkness. She held the lantern up as high as she dared, not keen on drawing any undue attention towards her ship while they were still unloading. The steward’s retinue was approaching already, and a hard lump formed in her throat that she forced herself to swallow down. She could only pray that she had not kept them waiting. Despite all her years of service, she did not doubt that the steward’s sorcerer would toss her over the deck for any infraction. That man made every hair on the back of her neck stand up.

The sorcerer approached, leading a group of men clothed entirely in black with the exception of a wide stripe of silver running down the center of their cloaks and the steward’s insignia stamped onto the leather breastplates. They moved like shadows in perfect unison, mimicking the sorcerer’s gait as if they were led by some enchantment to follow his exact steps, and no more.

The sorcerer, for his part, was cloaked in red—the same shade as a poppy flower with no need for obscurity. From the shadow of his hood, the light of Ceri’s lantern caught a glimpse of yellow eyes like a jungle panther. The reflected back the light, appearing almost white, and she lowered her lantern so quickly that it hit the ship’s rail with a ‘thump’.

The sorcerer held up a hand to the first mate, flashing the steward’s seal ring. They exchanged a few words, which Ceri did not hear, and the sorcerer reached into his cloak. Ceri’s fear formed a ball of ice in the center of her chest as she watched money trade hands. The sorcerer withdrew a heavy leather purse from the folds his cloak and held it out to the first mate. The first mate extended his hand and bowed his head, no doubt muttering the proper obsequious words whilst scraping a little lower than usual. The sorcerer stood there, motionless throughout the ritual, until the first mate finally accepted the purse and backed away slowly while remaining bent at the waist.

The sorcerer lingered for a few moments while the steward’s men checked the cargo. They dipped their fingers into the spice jars and rustled around to make sure that there was nothing filled with stones or grain to give them more weight. Once they seemed satisfied, the sorcerer turned, and the entire steward’s retinue melted back into the night-covered city.

Captain Ceri breathed a sigh of relief.

#

Kestel was the sole reason for so much despair. Even the shining shores of Edelgrund were not immune to its effects.

Those who could not hear the water were often none-the-wiser. To them it all seemed the same. As long as the sun still glinted off the rippling surface and as long as the water still rolled in with the push and pull of all three moons, many were willing to turn their heads. The coastal dwarves, even, who pulled gems from the walls of grottos did not care to listen to the ocean’s plea. There were times when Inola felt that she, herself, was the only one who was left listening.

For those who knew what they were listening for, the ocean was deathly still. Churning waves and blowing ship horns were not enough to cover the grim silence that settled once one pushed their head underwater and opened their ears. He ocean had become a veritable graveyard, now that the dolphins had been driven away.

Men, a vicious race of over-indulgence and driven by purely selfish motivations, had been the ones who started hunting dolphins for their livers. At first, they took no more than a few at a time. The elves who lived by the water, Inola’s people, were distressed by the poaching and did what they could to protect the sea-dwelling creatures they had come to love. The dolphins were too friendly, too trusting, and they had been living in peace with the shore-dwellers since the New World began. They did not fear the humans as they should, and by the time they seemed to understand the dangers (despite all the warnings from Inola’s people), it was too late. More and more began to die until they were being netted and slaughtered in droves. Their livers were harvested to be squeezed and ground down into the main component used to make the Kestel spice.

Kestel went by many names. It was called “Silver” by the aristocracy and “Nettle” by those too poor to even get their hands on a pure pinch. An ounce of the stuff was worth its weight in gold. Men could buy acres of property for much, much less. Even the aristocrats did not have access to its purest form. For the poor, it was cut through with cheaper ingredients—flour, sometimes, or charcoal powder depending. As long as there were enough granules for them to get to their kick, that was all they needed. Only the steward ingested it unaltered. It was all the rage in court to carry it around in little silver tins with painted tops that the aristocrats would tap on before pinching up enough to snort.

Furs, acreage, lumber, silk, perfumes—all the bustling trades of the Old World had come to a grinding halt with the fall of civilization. There were so many who had hoped that new opportunities would come rising out of the dust of the old. Some fools still dreamt of a world where those who inhabited it maintained peaceful relationships with one another, but that was not the case now—not for Elu.

Spice was the only currency. It was the only thing anyone ever wanted. The entire New World was obsessed with it. It did not matter that the dolphins were dying and had been driven so far from the shores that the ocean was silent. It did not matter that the world was suffering because snorting Kestel drove you mad. There were elves living close to Felltaen who had become so hooked on ‘Nettle’ that they could think of nothing else. They lived and breathed for it, even as lesions broke out across their skin and made them fall deathly ill.

The steward of Felltaen did not care about an of it. The coastal dwarves and the woodland elves, both of whom the human civilization treated as less than dirt, were so eager to make a decent living that the did not care about what a plague Kestel was, or how it infected everything it touched.

Inola had not been around to see the Old World fall. It had all occurred before her time. But she had heard tales of what the had then called Arentse, and it sounded like a better world than the one they were living in now. At least then, there had been something to live for other than the consumption of a powder.

The steward believed that it made him immortal. He believed that ingesting spice would keep him young and grant him life everlasting. Inola did not know how true that was, and she did not care. She could not see the appeal in living forever when the world was falling down around you and your own court was too busy scratching boils on their skin to enjoy the beautiful things surrounding them.

And once all the dolphins had died, what would come then? What would the steward hunt to extinction next, in the pursuit of the unattainable?

There was no answer that sounded right, or good enough for Inola. She balled up a thin blanket and shoved it into her bag along with a wineskin and some kelka, unleavened Elvish bread made with olives and wrapped in grape leaves.

If the steward was not going to stop, she would have to make him stop. That meant going to Felltaen and putting an end to it all herself. And if that also meant going so far as to cut off the steward’s head and kicking it out a window, she would do it. She was not afraid.

She should have been, was what her brother told her. She did not have enough fear, and that was her greatest weakness.

And perhaps he was right. But she could not bring herself to sit in her home and do nothing while the ocean fell silent.

 It was dark outside when she pulled up the latch that kept the small, round wooden doors of her window in place. The rest of her family was not yet asleep, otherwise she would have gone through the front door. As it stood, she folded up a note and stuffed it underneath her pillow before climbing onto the bed so that she could reach the sill. Her brother, her grandmother, and both her uncles were all downstairs. Her uncles would be filling their long reed smoking pipes and talking about mundane things such as the upcoming storm season and how it might affect the fishing. The strings of her brother’s mandolin carried soft, mournful music up through the floorboards, and Inola paused to listen to it for just a little bit longer.

She knew that she shouldn’t linger, but it was tempting to fly back downstairs and throw her arms around her brother’s neck one last time. She did not do it, only because she had to cling to the idea that she would see him again—or everything she was trying to accomplish would be for nothing.

After a moment’s more hesitation, Inola slipped through her window and dropped down to the soft earth on the other side. She swung her bag around her shoulder and pulled the strap across her chest before disappearing off the side of the main road that fed into Felltaen.

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The Birth of Max Erro

Finally! After decades of being a huge fantasy fan, I’ve decided to get my feet wet into fantasy streams under my new pen name Max Erro.
Max Erro will write epic fantasy, shot fantasy stories, mystery & love stories. Basically, all fictional works will be published under Max Erro, while I’ll use my real name for non-fiction titles.

Why Max Erro?
Well, Max is the main character of “Wild Cherry Blossoms” novel that I’m writing, and has an important personal meaning to me.
Erro comes from the Latin verb “to wander”. So yes, I’m the maximum wanderer, let’s hope I’m not the lost one.

Since I’m a huge Tolkien fan, my works are expired by his lore. I hope in time I’ll publish some stories that will impact other lives, just like Tolkien’s works had an impact on my life. Literally, Tolkien saved me when I was in a very dark place.

My first fantasy stories are wrapped around sea elves that live deep underwater on the ruins of the Old World. The New World that is taking shape now is much different; although these worlds are never set to connect nor collide, life always finds a way.
My main character is Inola, a young sea female elf whose friendship with animals, especially dolphins, will make her break the magical boundaries of her world. Inola is fierce and stubborn, but her faith is not sealed underwater; however, there are some things much deeper, much darker, and older that will hunt all protagonists of the stories. That’s the realm of Aquastell.

These stories will be available to my subscribers – some of them you’ll be able to read for free, while some are connected to special subscription tiers. I hope you’ll like them and I hope that you’ll join me on the adventure of creating a magical new world.

Please subscribe to my newsletter to start receiving updates about my literally projects

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Gollum’s Memoirs: The Chief Hero Who Destroyed the Ring

„In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit“.

Well, I’m one of them and I’m sharing with you my life story. I’m the true hero of the saga as I destroyed the ring. Hopefully, after these memoirs, we can clean up my name so I can enjoy some Precious perks in this bitter afterlife.

As a Hobbit, I was a hard-working one. My overall resume contains just a minor flaw of strangling my boring cousin Deagol, who was rude enough to deny me my birthday gift. What a cheap asshole he was.

I took the ring, yes. Because it belonged to me. It was mine. My precious. The stupid folks that lived in those filthy little holes started to avoid me. They named me “Gollum” and I bit their legs because they were raw and wriggling. After a while, my grandma banned me from our home. Truly a sad story. At that time there were no ngo’s that protect grandsons from crazy old bats, so I was forced to find a new home. My Precious and I lived in a king-size cave, quite a luxury all-inclusive accommodation in Misty mountains!
WE had our own private stream and I ate fish every day. I invented the Raw & wriggling diet program – no carbs, no sugar, no tasty little shit, just raw food. Centuries later some THIEEEFS invented the raw food diet program and made millions. We should eat them whole. Sometimes on Sunday, I had smaller goblins. They didn’t need their legs but after chopping them off, the flesh would rot quickly. So I ate them whole. I was a pure muscle, no fat.

Anyway, I had an amazing life for nearly 500 years. I had the One ring. But just like in any relationship, things can get boring. So my love abandoned me. I cried. I was in despair. I realized there was no life for me without Precious, so I went on a quest to find it. I traveled light.

I felt lucky to stumble upon my next supper. Baggins they called him. Just like my Precious, he was lost. I promised to help him after some riddles in the dark. His legs looked raw and wriggling to me. Since I always did pretty well with riddles I thought Baggins can only lose.
But the little THIEF got me confused and escaped with my Precious. How could I know what he has in his pocketsess? See dear readers – Baggins is a filthy thief later called Hero and WE who destroyed Sauron are hated by all. NOBODY LIKES YOU – I KNOW!

To be continued …

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Social Media Guide: Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author

You’ve put in endless hours of typing, coming up with complex characters and plot devices, and doing the research that gives your book shape, structure, and authority. In essence, your book is ready to be sent out there into the wide world of readership… but in order to make the kind of impact (and the kind of sales figures) your hard work deserves, it’s got to reach your target audience, and create the buzz it needs to succeed. In order to achieve this, and in order to gain the required momentum for stellar sales, you’re going to have to use all the tools at your disposal. Your first port of call? Facebook – the world’s busiest, most vibrant, and most populated social network.

Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author, by SEO and social media marketing guru Slaven Vujic, is your one-stop shop for everything you could ever need to know about utilizing social media as a self-published author. Based upon first-hand experience, and brimming with expert tips, tricks of the trade, and innovative approaches to relationship-based sales building and exposure, it’s the ideal guide for those seeking to improve their sales by making use of Facebook’s extensive network of potential customers. Quite simply, if you’ve written, edited, and published a book, then this guide to improving your book’s performance is nothing short of essential in today’s social media-dominated market.

Make no mistake, Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author manages to succeed where other self-published author guidebooks fail. The reason for its effectiveness? This guide isn’t about direct sales, nor does it teach how to use Facebook as a straight-selling tool. As the title suggests, Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author intuitively assists self-published authors in establishing relationships with their target audience. By creating communities of loyal fans who will not only purchase your books, but who will be your cheerleaders, standard bearers, and the ones to start an enduring buzz about your work, you’ll establish a tribe of your own, which – with the right techniques and approaches – will grow, and grow, and grow.

The world of self publishing and self-promotion is one that changes with the wind and never ceases to evolve with each passing year. As such, today’s self-published authors need to stay thoroughly on top of every development and know exactly how social media and contemporary forms of communication can benefit their work. Slaven Vujic, with his years of experience helping authors succeed at the cutting edge of the digital marketplace – most notably on leading platforms like Amazon – is the ideal tutor to unravel the most effective and rewarding ways to get your book into the right hands. Clear, concise, and easy to follow, his methods are consistently backed by real-life examples of success, allowing authors everywhere to build their tribe, find their voice on social media, and lay the pathways to success that their hard work and dedication deserve.

…

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FREE eBook: Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author

You’ve put in endless hours of typing, coming up with complex characters and plot devices, and doing the research that gives your book shape, structure, and authority. In essence, your book is ready to be sent out there into the wide world of readership… but in order to make the kind of impact (and the kind of sales figures) your hard work deserves, it’s got to reach your target audience, and create the buzz it needs to succeed. In order to achieve this, and in order to gain the required momentum for stellar sales, you’re going to have to use all the tools at your disposal. Your first port of call? Facebook – the world’s busiest, most vibrant, and most populated social network.

Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author, by SEO and social media marketing guru Slaven Vujic, is your one-stop shop for everything you could ever need to know about utilizing social media as a self-published author. Based upon first-hand experience, and brimming with expert tips, tricks of the trade, and innovative approaches to relationship-based sales building and exposure, it’s the ideal guide for those seeking to improve their sales by making use of Facebook’s extensive network of potential customers. Quite simply, if you’ve written, edited, and published a book, then this guide to improving your book’s performance is nothing short of essential in today’s social media-dominated market.

Make no mistake, Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author manages to succeed where other self-published author guidebooks fail. The reason for its effectiveness? This guide isn’t about direct sales, nor does it teach how to use Facebook as a straight-selling tool. As the title suggests, Build Your Tribe on Facebook as a Published Author intuitively assists self-published authors in establishing relationships with their target audience. By creating communities of loyal fans who will not only purchase your books, but who will be your cheerleaders, standard bearers, and the ones to start an enduring buzz about your work, you’ll establish a tribe of your own, which – with the right techniques and approaches – will grow, and grow, and grow.

The world of self publishing and self-promotion is one that changes with the wind and never ceases to evolve with each passing year. As such, today’s self-published authors need to stay thoroughly on top of every development and know exactly how social media and contemporary forms of communication can benefit their work. Slaven Vujic, with his years of experience helping authors succeed at the cutting edge of the digital marketplace – most notably on leading platforms like Amazon – is the ideal tutor to unravel the most effective and rewarding ways to get your book into the right hands. Clear, concise, and easy to follow, his methods are consistently backed by real-life examples of success, allowing authors everywhere to build their tribe, find their voice on social media, and lay the pathways to success that their hard work and dedication deserve.

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Transformative memoirs “I see You”:

t was a beautiful sunny in early February and snow was reluctantly retreating from sun-kissed surfaces. Happy boy Vito had been spending a couple of hours in his new kindergarten, and I was busily approaching the colorful building. I paid no attention to the beautiful day or the cheerful colors because I had a hundred things on my mind. Work, work, and more work. Frustrated and forever dissatisfied, always hungry for success. Yes, that would sum it up nicely today. Back then, to myself, I was someone who enjoys his job, who is ambitious and does great things. Time changes your perspective and it does so quite quickly.

I arrived to the kindergarten where I was met by the nice gentleman, the kindergarten psychologist. We’d met before and had had a chance to briefly discuss Vito’s problems. I was glad I ran into him so that I could jump on him with a gleeful “Told you so!”, implying that Vito had adjusted to the kindergarten just fine. My triumphant stance was greeted with a compassionate smile and a friendly handshake. This nice gentleman had no need to defend himself or fight my arguments. He told me I could see for myself how Vito behaved in the kindergarten by taking a look through the window of his kindergarten group room- This group was not actually kids his age, but a group of younger children, where he was placed so he could fit in more easily.

It was all but a normal look through the window. This was an insight into the world I constantly tried to ignore. . An insight into something that could not happen to me. Not me, not my Vito. Why would it happen? Why us? But that was also a moment when all the forces fighting against accepting his state disappeared. My beautiful little bear was a lot taller than his little peers. The whole group had a common spirit and was dedicated to functional activities. My angel was in his own world. . He passed by the kids like they were trees in a forest. He was focused on an object and accidentally knocked down a little child, unaware of his surroundings. He played with his little piece of ribbon, far from everyone else. He didn’t look happy and he wasn’t smiling. He was… nothing. Undefined, absent. Different. Special. He ran through the room, occasionally letting out noises, each time attracting confused looks by his peers. Some of them brought him toys, but he didn’t take notice. He was licking the window.

I was known as a tough guy people would often come to for level-headed support. Crying wasn’t my thing; I handled my issues in a different way. But this one I could not handle. Tears began rolling down my cheeks as I stood before the window to that world. I broke down. I had to get some air. I sat down on a bench in front of the kindergarten and covered my face. I didn’t care that I was crying like a baby. I no longer saw the snow, the sun, my business problems. I saw only him. My son, caught in the web of a world I constantly claimed didn’t exist. I felt weaker than ever before. I felt weaker than ever before. Images flashed before my eyes – Vito as a baby, his restless nights and days. I felt guilty I saw only short flashes. I hadn’t been there for him. And now he’s waiting for me inside, in a place he doesn’t belong. In a place that improved my image as a father, a delusion that led me to believe my Vito was fine, too. He wasn’t fine. Not at all.

With my feet heavy, I returned to the kindergarten. . I stood at the door silently and, gesturing, asked that they bring me Vito. e saw me and, like countless times before, came to me emotionless.

I was putting on his shoes and couldn’t look him in the eye. I kissed his hair and said: “Forgive me, my son.” I took him into my arms and held him tightly. I felt I needed him at least as much as he needed me. Even though he couldn’t display any emotions, he saw something different on my face. A tear. He touched it with his finger and it disappeared. He observed his wet little finger. I observed it as well. That tear is gone and I’ll never know what was in it. A moment goes by, and so does an eternity. I didn’t want not to know anymore. I want to know, I want to live and I want to feel. I knew it at that moment, but I had no strength..

Excerpt from I See You

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Bloody Saturday in Dnipro: How Homes Became Graves

It began like any other quiet Saturday afternoon in Dnipro Families were enjoying the outdoors in local parks, walking their dogs, or relaxing at home. The air was filled with the sounds of children playing with their parents and pets on another day that offered apparent peace some 70 kilometers from the war zone.
And without warning, the playful laughter and squeals of children was replaced with the roar of rockets, followed by screams of terror, grief and loss. Lives were changed forever.

A little after 3 p.m. local time, a Russian rocket found its target in a crowded residential area of Dnipro, where it struck a block of residential buildings. More than 70 apartments disappeared instantly when the rocket knocked out several floors of the residential structure.
While some apartments have been completely destroyed, others have been left in ruins, mere shadows of the homes that were once filled with loving families, many of whom have been wiped out entirely, others cut in half, their loved ones taken from them at the hands of Russian terrorists.
*

Below I bring you a few stories that I collected from our friends who lived in that building, as well as from local volunteers.

My girlfriend Iryna is from Dnipro From the moment she found out about this rocket attack, her heart has been bleeding. People she knew personally lived in that building. Nastja, one of Ira’s closest friends, also lived there.

Nastja and Sasha with their kids

Anastasia and Sasha were looking forward to a pleasant Saturday afternoon with their children, Gleb (4) and Zlata (13), who is only one year younger than Iryna’s son Maksym, when their lives were turned upside down in an instant. Two weeks ago we spoke via video call and everything was filled with hope for a better tomorrow for all of Ukraine. The children were laughing with Ira, the dog was barking in the background.
Last Saturday, while the children played with their dog, and Nastja and Sasha enjoyed some relaxation, a powerful rocket hit their building, forcing all of them out into the street through a thick cloud of smoke and dust. As Nastja carried her son Gleb, he asked after his friend, Zahar, who lived a few apartments away. His apartment was gone. When Nastja looked at the building where they lived, she saw that all the apartments up to theirs had been obliterated, Miraculously, they survived, narrowly avoiding being buried under tons of concrete like their neighbors. It was hard to celebrate life in the face of so many deaths, but they were grateful to be alive.

Evgen and his family

36-year-old Evgen, the father of two children, recently bought an apartment for his parents in the very building that was hit by a Russian rocket. His parents had not yet moved in. On that fateful afternoon, Evgen, accompanied by his parents, came to the apartment to take measurements for a new door. His wife Svitlana and two lovely daughters were at home making dinner, anxiously awaiting his return. Evgen never made it home for dinner.

Boxing coach Mikhail

Mikhail raised numerous generations of children in his boxing club.
That afternoon, his wife and daughters went to a nearby shop where he planned to join them, not knowing that they would never see each other again. In the rocket attack, their apartment was destroyed, killing Misha instantly.

Dimitro, Tatyana, and their son Maksym

Maksym recently started high school. He lived with his parents Dimitro and Tatjyna on the seventh floor of building number 118, which was struck by a Russian missile. He was home alone at the time. Dimitar and Tatjana lost everything – their child and their home.

Kateryna

Katerina has been deaf and mute since birth. At the moment of impact, she lost her orientation, and due to her congenital condition, she was unable to call for help. Rescuers found her, but there was no happiness in her eyes. Somewhere under the ruins her child was left lying, in a stone bed with his father.

We are also speechless today, as we struggle to make sense of the devastation that does not come from the battlefield. It comes from a quiet residential area where families spent their weekends preparing meals, playing with pets and living their lives in peace. They lived their last moments at the kitchen table or in the bedroom. The Russian terror has devastated not only homes, but also lives. Families cut in half as some of them miraculously survived, only to be left with a gaping hole in their hearts as they grieve their loved ones who weren’t so lucky, their lives cut short by Russian evil.

Weapons designed to destroy enemy aircraft shattered children’s dreams and destroyed peaceful families. Such reckless hatred cannot be called anything other than terrorism.

At the time of writing, more than 40 people have been confirmed dead in a Russian terrorist attack on a peaceful residential area of Dnipro, and the death toll is expected to rise. There are dozens of people in hospitals who were injured during this crime, which once again shows the harsh reality of life for average citizens of Ukraine under constant threat from Russian aggression.

We organized Dnipro Relief Program to raise funds for families who lost everything in this attack. Donations are going directly to families with whom we have direct contact. Thank you for your donations!

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I See You – Transformative Memoirs

I See You is a powerful true story of many facets; of transformation, discovery, denial, hope, fear… and ultimately, of love. A reluctant father comes to the realization that Vito, his son, is a child with special needs. He hears the words spoken by his son’s teachers – and by a range of specialists, who try to explain that Vito is developmentally challenged – but hearing is rarely the same as listening. Denial is quick to set in, and Vito’s father buries himself in his a distraction from a truth that is increasingly difficult for his son is on the autism spectrum, and the path they must take together will not be the easiest of roads to walk.

Vito’s autism leads his father, Slaven, into a corner from which he must ultimately escape. His home life is put in a perilous position, and mask upon mask is worn in order to deal with the struggles of denial. However, Slaven comes to the understanding that life deals us the hand we have to play, and his role as a father must come before his pride. His journey is one he cannot walk alone, and a trickle of hope slowly turns into a wave of empathy, acceptance, and parental love.

Walking onwards with his son at one side and his Christian faith at the other, Slaven sets out on the path that God has laid before him. The challenges they face together may not be easy, but the lessons they teach lead Slaven to be the man his son deserves. As they march forward, dealing with disabilities, the struggle of parenting, and the overcoming of prejudices, the truth is Vito is a blessing, a gift, and one with the power to enrich the lives of those who love him.

This transformative memoir offers:

A unique insight into the realities of parenting a special needs childA journey of discovery and parental loveAn honest and frank understanding of autismA Christian perspective on the struggles of acceptance

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