Writing a story based on what you heard

A large bush of viburnum grows near the grandmother’s house. Hata seemed to hide in the shade of a bush – such a magnificent and magnificent rose viburnum. In autumn she inclines her brushes to the ground, as if she is asking at hand: take me. I admire her red berries and remember what I heard from old people.

. It was a very long time, even when the Turkish invaders and Tatar hordes often flew to the broad Ukrainian steppes. The conquerors were extremely cruel, and after their raid, houses were burning, mothers and children were crying, old and feeble people asked for protection, for many years the land became a wasteland. The enemies had a stony and ruthless heart: they cut everyone with their crooked sabers. Blood was shed, tears streamed, groaning and child’s crying spread over the Ukrainian land and rose to the very sky.

But not all killed the enslavers. Young girls and children were taken captive and driven to a distant and unknown country. The children

were turned into soulless janissaries, and the girls were sold into slavery on the slave market.

In one village an extremely beautiful and hard-working girl grew and flourished. One day, when the Tatars attacked the village, a brave and very beautiful girl, having deceived their enemies, led them into impenetrable thickets – supposedly brought to an expensive one. And she led them into such a slum, impenetrable swamps, that they all died there. Khan ordered the execution of the girl, and his faithful servants carried out the order. Hot blood was poured. and where that blood fell to the ground, she became a Kalina.

They say that it was from that time that the berries of the viburnum became like droplets of blood, and the seeds of the berries – in the heart. This is the legend associated with the viburnum, which is why these berries are so respected in Ukraine.

I admire the viburnum, which stretches out its brushes to me, as if it conveys a greeting from the distant past.

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Writing a story based on what you heard