The End of Baba Yaga

The End of Baba Yaga

A Russian Tale

In a land far from here, there once lived three sisters, well, two sisters and one stepsister, to be exact. Vasseila, the youngest, was beautiful, but her sisters could not abide her beauty. Everyday she was forced to work her fingers to the bone for her sisters: washing, cooking, ironing, cleaning, tidying and tending to their every need. However, Vasseila accepted her place in the world with good grace and served her sisters with a smile. Yet she ached for a friend to talk to, a confidante or companion, someone she could trust.

One night, as she sat sewing by the fire, her sisters plotted to be rid of her. They planned to dampen down the fires, extinguish all the candles and send Vasseila out into the darkness to fetch light from Baba Yaga’s house at the other side of the forest.

Baba Yaga was well known in those parts. She held the only source of light for miles around, but was also a witch woman with iron teeth and the unpleasant habit of eating people! The sisters gloated together at the prospect of being rid of this smiling sibling, their stunningly lovely stepsister.

The desperate scheme went according to plan. They starved the fire and blew out most of the candles. Then, in an apparent fit of sneezing, the eldest sister snuffed out the last wick and Vasseila was sent in search of light.

‘Why not try Baba Yaga’s house?’ her sisters suggested as Vasseila drew her thin cloak around her and disappeared into the blackness of the night. ‘Hurry girl, hurry!’

Vasseila did hurry, for the icy wind whipped at her ankles and stung her bare skin. She stumbled through the edge of the wood until she heard the heavy fall of horses’ hooves upon the earth. Cowering behind a tree, Vasseila watched as a great white knight on a pure white stallion galloped past her, heralding the daylight which followed in his footsteps. The morning mists cleared gradually and she was able to make her way through the forest with relative ease. Later, resting for a while on some moss, Vasseila was disturbed by the beating of hooves again. This time a scarlet knight riding a chestnut mare hastened past her and the sun set in his wake. As Vasseila clambered to her feet and set off down the path, a third horseman thundered by. When the dust kicked up by the black horse and his rider settled, darkness reigned. Vasseila was once again alone, but this time on the other side of the forest.

There before her stood a strange house perched upon a cockerel’s foot which twisted this way and that. Vasseila knew this was Baba Yaga’s house for she saw the bone fence, the gate (whose catch was composed of a human hand with all flesh removed) and the seven skulls around the door. The sockets where their eyes had once been glowed with a knowing strength; it felt as though they were watching her. Determinedly, however, Vasseila pressed on. Avoiding the gate, she climbed through the fence and peeped in the windows. There she saw a young girl about her own age sitting alone by the fire sewing. Vasseila knocked and was welcomed inside by Baba Yaga’s daughter.

The two girls talked and talked, shared tales and memories, and much laughter. The time sped by and it wasn’t long before Baba Yaga came rowing home across the sky in her pestle and mortar. Her daughter, afraid lest her mother should find her new friend, turned Vasseila into a sewing needle and stuck her in a pin cushion.

‘Do I smell human flesh?’ her mother demanded to know.

‘Oh no, Mother, it was but a ….passing stranger. He has gone now’ replied her cunning daughter.

When Baba Yaga rowed away in the morning, Vasseila was returned to her human form and the two girls spent many more happy hours together, baking and sewing, chatting and dancing until hearing the witch woman’s cackle, Vasseila was changed into a needle once again. On the third day the girls were so involved in what they were doing that they did not notice that the suspicious Baba Yaga had silently returned. She climbed down the chimney and leapt into the room with glee.

‘My dinner’, she announced, grinning menacingly at Vasseila and instructed her daughter to stoke up the fire and told Vasseila to sit upon a large wooden spatula. She intended to bake her in the oven! Vasseila obliged, but her legs hung over the edge.

‘Sit the other way, girl!’ commanded Baba Yaga, and Vasseila turned. But still her legs dangled over the edge and she could not be pushed into the oven.

‘Let me show you’, screeched Baba Yaga impatiently, and sat upon the wooden spatula with her legs tucked up in front of her. Seizing their chance, the two girls shoved Baba Yaga impatiently into the oven and clanked shut the iron door.

They raced out of the house, stopping only to take some lace, a cake and a single skull. They knew that Baba Yaga could chew her way out of the oven and so on as they ran along the forest paths, they heard her awful voice shrieking behind them as she gave chase. She was gaining on them when Vasseila dropped the lace woven in friendship. Where it fell a huge lake opened up and Baba Yaga was force to swim across it.

Now swimming is slower than running, but once out of the water Baba Yaga caught up with them again. Desperately Vasseila dropped the cake baked in companionship. An enormous mountain arose behind them and Baba Yaga was forced to gnaw her way through, rocks and all.

As they reached the other side of the forest, the girls stood before the stepsisters’ home. They dropped the skull and its eyes glowed, throwing a ball of fire towards the house which ignited instantly. Where the skull hit the ground a huge void opened up and the screaming witch woman fell down, deep down into the dark chasm which quickly closed over and deep around her. She was trapped beneath the earth’s crust, held tight for ever within the rock strata.

It is said, however, that if you visit a forest and see a single weed growing alone, outside the company of others, you may have stumbled on the spirit of Baba Yaga who continues to search for a way out of the earth below.

Be wary of where you tread!