"My mum has this feeling that I'm about to come into the room any minute. But that will never happen again." Children killed by Russia tell their stories

On 1 June, the world marks International Children's Day. It's a reminder that adults must protect children's rights and do everything they can to ensure they grow up happy, have access to education, and are free from grief and war.

All children deserve to grow up in a peaceful world, free of violence or fear because of non-stop bombardment. Ukrainian children have been cut off from this by Russian aggression. According to UNICEF-confirmed data alone, almost 1,500 children have been injured since the start of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine. A third of them died.

If they could speak now, what would they tell us about themselves and the day they died? These stories have been written with the help of the deceased children's families.

"I really wanted to learn to ride a bike"

Artem Korniichuk, aged 19 months

Kryvyi Rih, 16 December 2022

Artem Korniichuk

Hello, I'm Artemko [a diminutive of Artem – ed.]. I'll be 19 months old forever now. I was killed at my home in Kryvyi Rih when a Russian missile hit the building. My mummy and daddy were with me. They are gone too, and so is the lady next door. Another man from our building died in hospital a few days later. Our apartment isn't there any more, and neither are any of the apartments round our stairwell.

My parents had two children: me and my older brother Maksym. When my mummy and daddy found out that I was going to be born soon, they were very happy. But Maksym was really jealous. All that changed when I was brought home from the hospital, and my brother became my best friend! If my parents needed help, he could look after me or play with me. That was especially useful when the three of us – my brother, Mummy and me – were living abroad. We moved there for a while to get away from the war. I was very little then, about a year old.

My daddy was waiting for us at home. I just adored him when I came back! Of course, I loved my mummy too, but everyone called me daddy's boy. I looked just like him.

The day we were killed, my brother wasn't at home. He'd stayed at Grandma's house the night before. And we stayed in the apartment that morning, even though we used to go to the shelter when it was dangerous. Now Daddy, Mummy and I are Maksymko's guardian angels.

"I was killed instantly by shrapnel, and then the car where my body was exploded"

Kyrylo Piakhin, aged 8

Vinnytsia, 14 July 2022

Kyrylo Piakhin

Hi everyone! My name is Kyrylo, I'm 8, and I'm from Kherson, but I was killed in Vinnytsia. That's the city I evacuated to with my family after two months of living under occupation.

On 14 July, a Russian missile hit an office building in the centre of Vinnytsia. I was in the car with my uncle at the time, and my grandma had gone to the bank. I was killed instantly by shrapnel, and then the car exploded with my body in it. My uncle was lucky: the shock wave threw him out through an open window. That missile killed 27 people, including me and two other children.

I grew up looking like my dad, but my personality was like my mum's. I said my first word early – it was "Daddy" – and soon I took my first steps.

I was a quiet boy who loved playing with Lego. I had dozens of sets and used to make huge buildings. I wasn't a difficult child, because I always did what my parents said. In my spare time, I used to go to art classes and football practice, and I played chess after school. 

I loved reading and Ukrainian at school, and I used to learn poems fast. I remember everything pretty much the first time I hear it. My parents and I used to go for a lot of walks, and we'd drive to the village to visit our relatives there. 

A week and a half before I was killed, we celebrated my birthday. My parents gave me everything I wanted: a toy gun, my favourite Lego, and a radio-controlled car. And then, exactly 10 days later, I was killed by a Russian missile.

Dozens of people gathered to bid me a final farewell, most of them strangers to me. They just wanted to support my family. They put a cuddly toy in the coffin – my favourite bear, Potap.  

After I died, my mum got divorced from my dad. She lives abroad now. She says it's really challenging for her, so she takes each day as it comes, and she goes to a therapist. My mum always has the feeling that I'm about to come into the room, to ask for something or ask her a question. But that will never happen again.

"I was my parents' little princess"

Anna Fihurna, aged 15

Dnipro, 14 January 2023

Anna Fihurna

Hello everyone! Now you're looking at my smiling face. Let's get to know each other better. My name is Ania, I'm 15, and I lived the whole of my short life in Dnipro. That's where I was killed. On 14 January 2023, the enemy hit a building in the Pobeda residential area with a missile. My whole family had gathered together in one apartment: me, my mum, my dad, my grandparents, my auntie and her husband. Only my grandma survived.

I was my parents' little princess when I was growing up. Mum and Dad did everything they could to make me happy. 

Friendly, open, sincere, smiley, helpful – that's how family and friends described me. I enjoyed studying, took part in competitions, memorised poems quickly, and I liked to take a leading role in any activity. 

I really wanted to become a psychologist in the future – I liked to listen to my friends and help them with advice. I was always willing to take on the duties of a leader. 

I spent a lot of time with my mum and dad. We used to go on holiday to campsites and travel out of town, and we'd get together with our relatives to celebrate all the holidays. 

My auntie often used to joke that in 15 years, I had turned from a bald little baby into a long-legged beauty with a slim waist and lovely thick hair. Mum and Dad always used to smile when she said that. They were so proud of their daughter. 

We were always together in life, and we were together in death.

That Russian missile that flew into the apartment building on Peremoha (Victory) Street on 14 January killed my family. There's no more me, no more upbeat Dad or caring Mum, no more Grandad, auntie or uncle. And instead of my family's cosy apartment in that building, there is just a huge hole. 

"I spent the last month of my life in a shelter"

Illia Chekh, aged 9

Chernihiv, 20 March 2022

Illia Chekh

Hello everyone! My name is Illia, I'm 9, and I'm originally from Chernihiv. I spent the last month of my life in a shelter with my family. My hometown was always being attacked by Russian soldiers.

We were going to leave in the middle of March. But we were too late – a Russian shell exploded near my family, and we didn't have time to get down to the shelter. Me and my mum and dad were injured. I died, although the doctors spent 24 hours fighting to save me. My family survived.

Ever since I was a child, I used to love it when my mum read to me. Her voice was mesmerising. I was always active, so I used to do gymnastics, and I always showed my mum all the sports exercises so that she could do them after me. And my dad and I used to go and practise on the horizontal bars.

A few months before I died, my parents signed me up for hip-hop classes so I could burn off some of my energy. I was really excited, especially when I first went on stage. We dreamed about winning a cup, and our teacher promised to take us to the competition in the spring of 2022. But you know what happened to me and my dreams during that time...

At school, the teachers thought of me as curious, gentle and sensitive. They used to affectionately call me Iliusha. I had a lot of friends in my class. I tried to get involved in all the extracurricular activities – I took part in events and went on trips.

In our spare time, me and my parents used to walk around the city, go on picnics, and relax in the forest and by the riverside. I liked throwing stones into the water. I would always find a branch and wave it around like a real ninja.

My mum and dad weren't told about my death for several weeks because they were in a serious condition after the attack. Although their bodies are gradually recovering from it, their hearts are grieving for me. They still haven't learned how to live without their Iliusha.

"My mum still remembers how she screamed when she saw my dead body"

Rostyslav Pichkur, aged 13

Buzova village, Kyiv Oblast, 28 February 2022

Rostyslav Pichkur

Hello, I'm Rostyk [a diminutive of Rostyslav – ed.]. I'm 13. My family was living in Kyiv when the Russian army invaded Ukraine. My parents decided that our high-rise wasn't safe, so we moved into our house in the country. But we had to flee from there as well. While we were attempting to evacuate, our car was fired on by a Russian tank.

We managed to jump out and hide in the forest. But soon after that there was another explosion that took my life. My grandparents, auntie and godfather were with us as well as my parents. Luckily, they survived.

I was in 7th grade at a school that specialised in German. I was a straight-A student until 5th grade. I grew up to be obedient, polite, kind and generous – my mum always said I was the perfect son. Sport was one of my main interests. A few months before I died, I got my red belt in taekwondo. I often used to go swimming and play football with my friends.

Dad and I would play on the games console and go karting. Our family used to go fishing and pick mushrooms. After school, my grandma would often treat me to my favourite fast food, and my grandad used to let me help fix his car. 

I was passionate about cars. I used to dream about having a BMW. It turns out that my dad wanted to give me one for my 18th birthday. I didn't know that, and now I never will know. It would have been the best gift ever! But until I had a real car, I bought collectible models. Unfortunately, all of them were burned in our car when it was fired on from the tank.

My mum was almost six months pregnant at the time. I was so happy when I found out I was going to have a brother! I always went with her to the scans, as I wanted to be the first person to find out how the little one was doing. I never got a chance to meet him. He was born four months after I died. He was named Yaroslav – I chose his name.

My family is really sad without me. My mother still remembers how she screamed when she saw my dead body. Now they are devastated, but they carry on living for my beloved little Yarik's sake.

This piece was prepared especially for Ukrainska Pravda by Memorial, a platform which tells the stories of Ukrainian civilians and soldiers killed by Russia. To report data on Ukraine's losses, please fill out the forms: for dead military and civilian victims.

Natalia Kulidi and Maria Morozova, especially for UP. Life

Translation: Artem Yakymyshyn, Yuliia Kravchenko, Kamila Fomin

Editing: Teresa Pearce