Intro: The story takes place in Mariupol, Ukraine, 2022. Ivan is a Ukrainian soldier in his 30s protecting his country from foreign invasion. He has a wife and two small children.

The sun hadn’t woken yet, so the pale, yellowish moon dominated the starless sky. It was a humid and dank morning, heavy and smelling of sweat; Ivan called his family before going to the battlefield. He feared every call might be his last.  His wife’s stories about their daughters school accomplishments motivated him to fight and end this war to see his loved ones again. Today, his younger daughter Masha went to kindergarten for the first time. After hanging up, he prepared his gun and put extra ammunition in his bag. He also snatched a flare gun in case of an attack.

Now Ivan and the rest of his comrades were in the line and ready to listen to their commander. Every soldier in front of him was standing tall, ready to fight– none cowered. They were all scared but kept their fear to themselves. The goal was clear– to protect their homes and country from the incomprehensibly inhumane invasion.

Ivan’s troop’s mission was to protect Mariupol, a thriving Ukrainian city with a  history steeped in rich culture. They got word that the enemy planned to attack the Mariupol military airport at noon that day. Still, Ivan was uncertain that they would, as it would be unwise in broad daylight rather than strike at dusk or the heart of darkness.

Ivan asked his commander for permission to walk through the city one last time to enjoy the unmarred buildings and streets before the barbarians came through and scorched earth. The citizens had been evacuated, so the city was without a soul. 

As Ivan walked through the city, he saw empty malls, grocery stores, and gas stations - places usually teeming with life. Suddenly, his eyes landed on a building. It was a kindergarten. Ivan thought about his youngest daughters excited voice as she was about to begin her first day. He imagined driving Masha and Misha to kindergarten when he returned and seeing them playing “Jungle-Jingle” with other kids. The cold and bleak darkness wrapped the school like a blanket. The menacing scene gave him the shivers. For a moment, Ivan thought that the sun would never eclipse the thick layer of dusk, losing the light forever.

He kept walking. Mariupol was the home of his friend and comrade Dmitri. Dmitri lost his life fighting in Kharkov, and now Ivan found himself standing in front of Dmitri’s childhood home. He remembered how tirelessly Dmitri fought on the battlefield, working himself to exhaustion. This loss was different. Ivan closed his eyes, and he could see Dmitri standing in front of him in his favorite red shirt with the word “motherland” on it. This flashback pulverized his heart into microscopic pieces, and he wondered why he was the lucky one – the one who stayed alive. He wished he wasn’t alone right now. Tears came to his eyes as he stood frozen in his memories.

Suddenly, he heard something. It was footsteps, but whose?

“I was the only one to leave the military base, and according to our intel, the enemy was supposed to be here by noon – and it’s only three in the morning,” Ivan said to himself.

He hid behind nearby bushes, squinting to see the flag on the uniform. Finally, it appeared - the enemy’s flag. His nerves tightened, and his heart began racing.

Suddenly, a crisp sound. The result was the bullet now lodged in his back. Ivan floundered forward. He could feel every inch of it as it ripped through him. The booming laughs of the enemy soldiers mocked him. He tried to yell out for help, but blood filled his mouth. Another bullet pierced his heart. He knew that he had one chance– his flare gun. He mustered up the energy to take out the gun and put his finger on the trigger.

Boom.

Ivan landed on the ground. Now, the sky was bright and illuminated by the fire of the signal.

“I hope they see it,” he thought.

He closed his eyes. The blood was rolling down his hands. He wiped his eyes and thought of his family, his children’s future, and the troops. When he blinked, he saw himself in front of his daughter’s kindergarten classroom with his 5-year-old daughter Masha running at him with a warm smile. They were hugging tightly. And when he tried to open his eyes again, he couldn’t, neither did he want to. The ground was frigid, but it felt warm to Ivan. It was his motherland.