Frightening Writers Reveal the Most Terrifying Stories They've Actually Read
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- By Christopher Cooper
- 02 Mar 2026
Lesia Danylenko beamed with pride as she displayed her newly installed front door. Local helpers had given the moniker its ornate transom window the “pastry”, a whimsical nod to its bowed shape. “I think it’s more of a peafowl,” she remarked, gazing at its twig-detailed features. The renovation effort at one of Kyiv’s turn-of-the-century art nouveau houses was funded through residents, who marked the occasion with a couple of neighbourhood pavement parties.
It was also an demonstration of defiance in the face of an invading force, she clarified: “We strive to live like ordinary people in spite of the war. It’s about shaping our life in the best possible way. Fear does not drive us of living in our homeland. I had the option to depart, moving away to Italy. Conversely, I’m here. The new entrance symbolizes our commitment to our homeland.”
“We strive to live like everyday people in spite of the war. It’s about arranging our life in the most positive way.”
Preserving Kyiv’s built legacy could be considered paradoxical at a moment when missile strikes regularly target the capital, causing death and destruction. Since the beginning of the current year, aerial raids have been significantly intensified. After each strike, workers board up shattered windows with plywood and attempt, where possible, to salvage residential buildings.
Despite the violence, a collective of activists has been striving to conserve the city’s crumbling mansions, built in a playful style known as Ukrainian modernism. Danylenko’s house is in the downtown Shevchenkivskyi district. It was constructed in 1906 and was originally the home of a affluent fur dealer. Its facade is decorated with horse chestnut leaves and intricate camomile flowers.
“These structures stand as symbols of Kyiv. These properties are increasingly scarce nowadays,” Danylenko noted. The building was designed by a designer of Central European origin. Several other buildings nearby display similar art nouveau characteristics, including an irregular shape – with a gothic tower on one side and a small tower on the other. One much-loved house in the area displays two sullen white stucco cats, as well as owls, masks and a demonic figure.
But military aggression is only one threat. Preservation campaigners say they face profit-driven developers who raze historically significant buildings, unethical officials and a political leadership indifferent or resistant to the city’s profound architectural history. The severe winter climate imposes another burden.
“Kyiv is a city where money wins. We are missing genuine political will to save our heritage,” said Dmytro Perov, an activist. He claimed the city’s mayor was friends with many of the developers who flatten important houses. Perov stated that the concept for the capital is reminiscent of a bygone era. The mayor has refuted these claims, attributing them from political rivals.
Perov said many of the community-oriented activists who once defended older properties were now engaged in combat or had been fallen. The protracted conflict meant that everyone was facing monetary strain, he added, including judicial figures who inexplicably ruled in favour of questionable new-build schemes. “The longer this persists the more we see degradation of our society and state bodies,” he contended.
One glaring location of loss is in the waterside Podil neighbourhood. The street was the site of classical 19th-century houses. A developer who acquired the plot had pledged to preserve its charming brick facade. In the immediate aftermath of the 2022 invasion, excavators razed it to the ground. Recently, a crane excavated foundations for a new retail and office development, monitored by a unfriendly security guard.
Anatolii Pohorily, a heritage supporter, said there was faint chance for the remaining turquoise-painted houses on the site. Sometimes developers levelled old properties while stating they were doing “scientific study”, he said. A previous regime also inflicted immense damage on the capital, redesigning its main thoroughfare after the second world war so it could accommodate large-scale parades.
One of Kyiv’s most renowned advocates of historic buildings, a tour guide and blogger, was killed in 2022 while engaged in a eastern city. His colleague Nelli Chudna said she and other volunteers were carrying on his important preservation work. There were initially 3,500 stone mansions in Kyiv, many constructed for the city’s wealthy entrepreneurs. Only 80 of their period doors remain, she said.
“It wasn’t foreign rockets that eliminated them. It was us,” she admitted sadly. “The war could last another 20 years. If we don’t defend architecture now nothing will be left,” she continued. Chudna recently helped to restore a characterful ivy-draped house built in 1910, which serves as the headquarters of her cultural organization and operates as a film set and museum. The property has a new vermilion portal and period-correct railings; inside is a historic washroom and antique mirrors.
“The war could continue for another 20 years. If we fail to protect architecture now nothing will be left.”
The building’s tenant, artist Yurii Pikul, described his home as “very cool and a little bit cold”. Why do many locals not cherish the past? “Unfortunately they are without education and taste. It’s all about business. We are striving as a country to go to the west. But we are still not yet close from that standard,” he said. Soviet-era ways of thinking remained, with people unwilling to take personal responsibility for their architectural setting, he added.
Some buildings are falling apart because of official neglect. Chudna showed a once-magical villa concealed behind a modern hospital. Its roof had caved in; pigeons made their home among its smashed windows; refuse lay under a storybook tower. “Frequently we lose the battle,” she admitted. “This activity is a coping mechanism for us. We are attempting to save all this past and splendour.”
In the face of destruction and commercial interests, these activists continue their work, one facade at a time, believing that to save a city’s identity, you must first protect its walls.
Elara is a seasoned writer and digital storyteller with a passion for exploring diverse literary genres and empowering others through words.