Hello and welcome to day 26 of 30 Days of Terror.

How you do? It's still hot just to let you all know. It's very warm. That's that's a

surmising of our current conversations in general at the moment. But I'm not

down with these people that are wishing autumn on us. No, I actually have to say I agree.

If you don't be wishing bad weather to be clean. If you get autumn and you're all happy about Halloween,

no posting about our cold it is all being wet on miserable. I'm not over that. I'll be letting you know.

So I've got three stories for you today. Okay, any picnic's involved? Nope.

Dumb. Sorry. And story number one that comes from David. To give it at the

background, I am an American ex-pat living in the Ukraine with my wife and daughter.

My wife is Ukrainian and although we both live in Kiev, she's from a remote village

near the Polish border. It's a tiny village overflowing with a rich sad history. It's deep in the woods,

about 45 minutes from any major highway and they just got a paid road last year. Some of the

houses here are decrepit beyond anything you would believe over a century old sunken into the

ground rife with decay and yet people still live in them. Other houses are big, beautiful and

built only in recent years and there are lots in between. It's a dying village that seems to

get a little bit smaller every year. The young children who grow into adults here either stay and

slowly drink themselves to death or took tail and run to the nearest big city as soon as age or

opportunity can afford. But being so old and in the heart of Eastern Europe means that the people

there have seen a lot. They saw the Second World War. They saw the Nazis coming through, the SS

and then the Soviet army at the end of the war. Then when things finally settled, it was a face

off between the partisans freedom fighters and the KGB and it always seemed to be the civilian

villagers who took the brunt of it all. So many things have happened to this little village and as

...