Shaman - Р’рўрўрђрќр•рњ (рјсѓр·с‹рєр° Рё Сѓр»рѕрір°: Shaman) Site

He looked at the photograph and whispered, "We did it, boys. The town is safe, and the children are happy."

"Thank you, sir," the boy said, handing the flowers to Pyotr. "My teacher told us about your friends. They were heroes." He looked at the photograph and whispered, "We did it, boys

The old man, Pyotr, looked out his kitchen window at the bustling town square where the annual founder's day celebration was underway. Children were running around, music was playing, and the air was filled with laughter. They were heroes

Pyotr took the flowers and smiled through his tears. "Yes, they were, son. Yes, they were." "Yes, they were, son

Pyotr reached into his pocket and pulled out an old, faded photograph. In it, a group of young men in worn-out uniforms smiled at the camera, their arms draped over each other's shoulders. They had been his best friends, and they had gone off to a conflict decades ago to protect their homes and families. Pyotr was the only one who had returned.

As the ceremony ended and the crowd began to disperse, a young boy walked up to Pyotr. He was holding a small bouquet of wildflowers.

This year, as the names were being read, Pyotr stood up. His knees were stiff and his back was sore, but he stood as straight as he could. He wanted to show his friends that they were not forgotten.