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The original was posted on /r/truescarystories by /u/Putrid_Honeydew2164 on 2025-07-05 07:31:10+00:00.

We were displaced from our home because of the bombing. We found a place to stay — it wasn’t ours, but we tried to feel safe.

Then suddenly… The bombing started. One shell after another. The house shook, and everything turned to smoke and dust.

I felt a burning heat from the explosion, like fire passed right beside me. I couldn’t see clearly, couldn’t hear… but I saw my sister’s children in front of me — crying, terrified.

I don’t know how I carried them, one by one. It was like God gave me strength that wasn’t mine. Everything around us was chaos — screaming, smoke, fear. But deep inside, a voice kept telling me: “Take them and get out.”

And my brother… Even though he was injured in both legs, he managed to get out — strong, silent, and standing.

We got out with shrapnel wounds, trembling, scared… But we got out alive. And that alone is a miracle.

Since that day, every bombing around us takes me back to that moment. Same heat, same fear, same silence.

But I always remember — God was with us. And still is.