Oiga's story.

This is a back-ground I wrote for a goblin shaman that I play online in World of Warcraft. She is a fun kind of character that people generally like because she has a lot of energy and I wanted to play with the idea of there behind something more sinister behind her smile.

The sun was only just rising over the top of the jungle as a lonely figure approached the small house in the clearing. The hooded rider got off her mount and patted it absentmindedly.

“If everything goes to plan girl, we will soon be gone from this place forever.” Oiga felt sweat running down her back despite the air being chilly. She leaned against her trusty bear for a moment while she contemplated what she was about to do. Just treat it like any other spirit calling at a deathbed, just think of the others you have helped pass over and it will all be fine.

Quietly she slipped inside the house, carefully treading over toys and various objects scattered around the corridor. A stench of sick reached her nose as she entered the living space which was now occupied primarily by a large bed. She moved across the floor, carefully avoiding the floorboards that she knew from experience would creak and moan under her weight. She couldn’t count how many times she had snuck through this room and out into freedom from the very man who stirred in the bed. She paused, holding her breath and praying that he was not awake. This would all be so much easier if she didn’t have to talk to him. A feeble snoring indicated that the man had once again fallen asleep. She silently exhaled and left the room, not yet having the slightest intention of letting her presence known. Back in the hallway she picked up her luggage and made for the kitchen where she knew her mother would be waiting. The hallway was dominated by a large painting of her father surrounded by the wonderful trio as she had dubbed her three brothers. As always she was not present in the picture and neither was her mother, the women of the family were not worth mentioning as her brother had often said. Her father had expected to receive another boy, four in a row would be a good number, but it had taken too long for her mother to be with child again and in the end it was an Oiga and not an Oigan that was born into the candy imporium. From that day on it had been a fierce competition to win her father’s affections, but she had always lost. There was no room for girls in his world and especially not one that was more interested in beating up other kids or playing foot bomb instead of learning how to keep house. She drew herself away from the painting and continued to the kitchen where the smell of sick was finally replaced with a lovely smell of coffee and freshly baked bread. As long as she could remember the kitchen had been her safe place.

Minea Lupo looked up as her daughter entered the kitchen and quickly dabbed the tears away from under her eyes.

“Oh my little girl, you are finally home.” Oiga nodded and sat down, not quite sure how to react to this warm greeting. Her mother placed a giant mug of steaming liquid and a plate in front of her, before she disappeared to the pantry and brought back some cold ham and fruit. Oiga noticed that there was no offering of jam or chocolate spread made to her. It seemed like the message had finally gotten through to her mother! Having been raised in a family of candy makers and seen firsthand what sugar could do to a goblin who didn’t exercise, Oiga had always declined to test any of her father’s products. Maybe another reason why they had drifted apart? Her mother sat down next to her and helped herself to some bread with butter. Oiga found herself pondering what it must be like to have given up your whole life for another person. What did her mother have to show for it really, an exiled daughter and sons who thought themselves more important than they really were. She knew her mother had wished for a daughter she could train in the art of housework, someone who she could share gossip about the latest fashion with and instead she had been given a daughter who didn’t even have the ability to mend her only dress. Almost on key her mother’s eyes fell on the hole in the sleeve, the grease spots on the hem and what looked to be dirty handprints of oil, worry spreading on her face. Oiga had done her best to wash out the blood and grit, but she knew her mother saw right through her attempt.

“You can have some of my old ones. They are getting too clingy for me anyway.” Oiga forced a smile and thanked her mother in short gruff words.

“So tell me how your new deployment is, any new friends?” Oiga smiled and held back a chuckle. She doubted that her mother would want to hear about her new “friends” anyway, better to stick to the safe things.

“I have been made treasurer I think, it is kind of hard to figure out exactly what is in my job description these days.” She thought of Lady Alyx and the horror on her face as Oiga had presented the contents of the vault for her. It was nice feeling like she mattered for once. Her skills with an axe could always be discussed but her ability with numbers was something no one could take away from her. She owed her father at least a bit of gratitude on that account although she had received most of her knowledge through spying on meetings, “borrowing” his books at night and changing the numbers slightly to erase his mistakes and listening in on her brother’s teachings.

“I am making progress I would say, I think I might be able to turn the situation around and keep them from losing their home at least. Even if some might not welcome the changes as easily as I had hoped.”

“That sounds exciting deary. Now how about friends, do you get out much?” Oiga was glad of the red light of the sunrise escaping through the window behind her and how it hid her blushing. Who could she tell her mother about that would be safe? Myloh, her fellow goblin that had made her wonderful gadgets and always had a smile ready for her, but also had been the main reason that her dress was in a terrible shape after failed experiments and contraptions blowing up around them. Could she tell her mother about Kerelan who had trusted her with an important job when no one else would have her or Vrek… No her mother should definitely not be told about Vrek. She felt the usual pang of worry that she had still not heard from him. So far as the old saying went that a girl always found a love that resembled her father, Vrek would be the perfect match for her. He was as pig-headed, insensitive and cold-hearted as her father and yet… No she would not allow herself to think in those lines again. Instead she turned her gaze to the cupboard behind her mother’s head that she had not studied the contents of for years. This was where her father would proudly display any medals or other tokens of achievements that her brothers brought home. Her mother followed her gaze and sorrow filled her eyes. A noise in the hallway indicated the presence of another family member. The door opened slowly to reveal her youngest brother. She sighed and took a large bite of her bread while she watched the exchange of hugs that did not involve her. If Jonah was here it meant that the others were right behind. Of her three brothers Jonah had always been the one to take care of her. Being the youngest boy he had suffered partly in the same way as she had, always struggling to be accepted into the family.

“Hi Kiddo.” She shot him a vague smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Mika and Fritz on their way?” A glance was exchanged between mother and son, a look she had so often shared with her brother.

“Why are they not coming?”

“They couldn’t leave the business in times like these.”

“You mean they are cowards...” Her voice was rising and she bit her lip to not wake her father.

“Oiga…” Her mother’s protest trailed off. Probably because she knows I am right, Oiga thought bitterly. They had always received all her father’s affections and yet on his deathbed she was the one who was here to say goodbye. The warmth she had felt entering her body by sitting here in her mother’s kitchen and thinking of the people who mattered to her, escaped her now and she involuntarily shook. Her brother rested a hand on her shoulder and for once she didn’t shrug it off.

“Why did it have to be me? There are plenty of more qualified shamans you could have hired.” Her question went unanswered for a while. Her mother stood up and cleared away the dishes, while her brother sat down next to her and started picking a left-over chunk of bread to pieces.  Suddenly her mother spun around, dishcloth still in hand.

“He has been asking for you ever since he was forced to stay in bed. He would hear talk of no one else performing the rituals for him.”

“But why…”

“People on their deathbed ask strange things Oiga,” this time it was her brother interrupting her. “He must have his reasons to want to say goodbye to you.” Oiga nodded but a bitter taste entered her mouth as she thought about her father’s reasoning for not wanting to see her all those years. She had not been invited to come back after she had nearly run away to Orgrimmar to have a change of scenery. When she had joined a military company he had even stopped sending her his weekly angry letter asking her to reconsider her life, telling about the various suitors he had lined up for her should she chose to live a normal goblinette life, get married, have children, make the family proud by adding more members to it. After a couple of months he had sent her an ultimatum Give up your rebel ideas and come home, last chance, after this you will never hear from me again nor will any other member of our family have permission to contact you. She had not caved in, she wanted her freedom more.

The medic had entered the room without Oiga noticing. He nodded to her to indicate that it was time. Everything happened in a blur from that moment on. Her mother pulled her out of the room and into her old bedroom which now served as a general closet space for the rest of the family. She helped Oiga out of her dress and pulled another one down over her head. It smelt of lavender, her mother’s favorite herb and she sniffed in the sweet scent as her mother combed down her hair and braided in the holy symbols that their family had always worn at times when a family member was about to pass over to the other side.

When they entered the living space again, the windows had been opened to let in some fresh air and to allow for her father’s spirit to leave freely when that time came. Her instruments had been brought in and placed on a table close to the bed. She stared at them for a moment, as if they were strange objects that she could find no use for, but then instinct took over and she started the ritual, saying ancient prayers that had been passed down to her from her master and someday would be passed on to her student if she ever got one. No one cried or made any noise as she finished the preparations for the soul to leave the body peacefully. They merely looked at her like she had materialized into some weird being in front of her. Her master had always said that you should never perform these rituals for family members because emotions and memories could cloud the sacred bond between body and soul, possibly even forcing the soul to stay in the body after the person had been cremated.

She had gotten to the part were the loved ones usually participated and just as expected she heard her brother’s deep voice joining in with the chanting. Her mother remained silent while she held her husband’s hand. She looked so small and lost that Oiga felt a great temptation to stop the ritual and just hug her mother until the pain went away, but she stood strong and did her duty.

Silence filled the room, only briefly interrupted by the hackling breathing from the bed. Now they only had to wait until he actually died before they could perform the rest of the ritual. She made to leave the room but should have known that she wouldn’t get away that easily. A wheezy voice drifted out towards her and she stopped. The once so commanding voice now had an air of desperate want.

”Come closer daughter.” She sighed and bit back her anger as she moved closer to her father’s bed, not quite sure what she would see. She withheld a sound of shock, her mother had been right, there was not much left of the once so forceful goblin that had refused to give up a trade long deemed unnecessary and unhealthy. His skin was pale and the flesh was sunken in. His good eye was fixed on her as he extended his hand. She remembered her mother’s words and carefully took the hand while sitting down next to him.

“How beautiful you have become daughter, just like your mother. I always knew you would get far.” She nodded, not wanting to argue with him at his last moments in this world. She recognized how the light was leaving his eyes fast, not long now. Her voice was slightly shaky as she asked him the words she had asked so many times before.

“Have you prepared your soul to join the spirit world?”

The funeral pire was only cinders when her oldest brother finally showed up. She could sense he was angry, but not wanting to start an argument with him she crept back into the house and found that her bags had already been packed. She noticed that not even her bag had been safe from her mother’s tears and the surface was damp. Oiga had not shed a tear for the man that had brought her so much pain; she would not give his soul that satisfaction.

As she mounted her bear she looked back at the courtyard behind her. Tables were being placed and food was pouring in from well-wishing neighbors. She knew that once the pyre was burned down there would be a big party to honour her father’s memory, but she would be far away by then not wanting to spend an evening and morning listening to people praising him. As she caught her mother’s gaze resting on her she nodded as if they were signing a mutual agreement about how things would be from now on. Then she rode away from her childhood home, not looking back once. 

She headed for the vault as soon as she reached home, not exchanging more than the formal greetings with the people she met on the way. Their faces all melted together for her and her head spun. Kerelan requested a meeting but she brushed him off, longing for the peace and quiet of the vault. She knew that some of them might have worried about her and where she had disappeared to, but right now she was not ready to share. As the heavy door closed behind her she drew in a sigh of relief, this was her home despite the cobwebs, vault spiders and piles of unsorted heirlooms that the A’lorai had left her in charge of. She smiled at her make-up bed on some kegs of ale that she had constructed with the help of Myloh shortly after she had been given the position. She started unpacking her bag, placing ritual gear and the dresses her mother had gifted her in two different piles. On the bottom of her pack she found a box with her name on it. She shivered slightly when she recognized her father’s handwriting. She had heard of people speaking to their relatives from beyond the grave but she highly doubted that they were able to place items in front of her. Part of her wanted to just discard it with the rest of the useless junk she had found in the vault but curiosity got the better of her. Sitting on her bed she opened the box with shaking hands and almost dropped it when her own face stared back at her. On top of a stack of paper was a crumbled hand-drawn picture of her in full armor that she had never seen before. She went on to the next item; a transcript of how she was faring in her first ever military unit signed by the General and addressed to her father, another note from a teacher informing her father of his daughters excellent performance in his class. On the bottom of the box rattling around was the first medal she had ever won as a foot bomber and that her father had taken away from her in anger while he had assured her that no daughter of his would become a foot bomb player. From the box she procured various artifacts of her childhood that she had thought lost. An unfamiliar feeling crept up on her as she sat in a vault full of precious things and held in her hands a box of  memories of the one person she had thought wanted nothing to do with her, a feeling of finally gaining the love from the man she had tried her whole life to make proud. She felt tears falling that she had denied herself earlier as she whispered to the darkness.

“Be in peace papa.”

Haruki Murakami

So turning another page on my long list of things to do, I have have signed up for

I am very excited about reading some of his work as I have only heard good things about him! A longer update on general work in progress will follow during the weekend. 

Peace out comrades. 

For the Vanguard

  

Vasilissa the Beautiful¹

IN a certain Tsardom across three times nine kingdoms, beyond high mountain chains, there once lived a merchant He had been married for twelve years, but in that time there had been born to him only one child, a daughter, who from her cradle was called Vasilissa the Beautiful. When the little girl was eight years old the mother fell ill, and before many days it was plain to be seen that she must die. So she called her little daughter to her, and taking a tiny wooden doll from under the blanket of the bed, put it into her hands and said:

"My little Vasilissa, my dear daughter, listen to what I say, remember well my last words and fail not to carry out my wishes. I am dying, and with my blessing, I leave to thee this little doll. It is very precious for there is no other like it in the whole world. Carry it always about with thee in thy pocket and never show it to anyone. When evil threatens thee or sorrow befalls thee, go into a corner, take it from thy pocket and give it something to eat and drink. It will eat and drink a little and then thou may tell it your troubles and ask its advice, and then it will tell you how to act in the time of need. So saying, she kissed her little daughter on the forehead, blessed her, and shortly after died.

Little Vasilissa grieved greatly for her mother, and her sorrow was so deep that when the dark night came, she lay in her bed and wept and did not sleep. At length she be thought herself of the tiny doll, so she rose and took it from the pocket of her gown and finding a piece of wheat bread and a cup of kvass,⁷ she set them before it, and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, and drink a little, and listen to my grief. My dear mother is dead and I am lonely for her."

Then the doll's eyes began to shine like fireflies, and suddenly it became alive. It ate a morsel of the bread and took a sip of the milk, and when it had eaten and drunk, it said:

"Don't weep, little Vasilissa. Grief is worst at night. Lie down, shut thine eyes, comfort thyself and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening." So Vasilissa the Beautiful lay down, comforted herself and went to sleep, and the next day her grieving was not so deep and her tears were less bitter.

Now after the death of his wife, the merchant sorrowed for many days as was right, but at the end of that time he began to desire to marry again and to look about him for a suitable wife. This was not difficult to find, for he had a fine house, with a stable of swift horses, besides being a good man who gave much to the poor. Of all the women he saw, however, the one who, to his mind, suited him best of all, was a widow of about his own age with two daughters of her own, and she, he thought, besides being a good housekeeper, would be a kind foster mother to his little Vasilissa.

So the merchant married the widow and brought her home as his wife, but the little girl soon found that her foster mother was very far from being what her father had thought. She was a cold, cruel woman, who had desired the merchant for the sake of his wealth, and had no love for his daughter. Vasilissa was the greatest beauty in the whole village, while her own daughters were as spare and homely as two crows, and because of this all three envied and hated her. They gave her all sorts of errands to run and difficult tasks to perform, in order that the toil might make her thin and worn and that her face might grow brown from sun and wind, and they treated her so cruelly as to leave few joys in life for her. But all this the little Vasilissa endured without complaint, and while the stepmother's two daughters grew always thinner and uglier, in spite of the fact that they had no hard tasks to do, never went out in cold or rain, and sat always with their arms folded like ladies of a Court, she herself had cheeks like blood and milk and grew every day more and more beautiful.

Now the reason for this was the tiny doll, without whose help little Vasilissa could never have managed to do all the work that was laid upon her. Each night, when everyone else was sound asleep, she would get up from her bed, take the doll into a closet, and locking the door, give it something to eat and drink, and say: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little, and listen to my grief. I live in my father's house, but my spiteful stepmother wishes to drive me out of the white world. Tell me! How shall I act, and what shall I do?"

Then the little doll's eyes would begin to shine like glow- worms, and it would become alive. It would eat a little food, and sip a little drink, and then it would comfort her and tell her how to act. While Vasilissa slept, it would get ready all her work for the next day, so that she had only to rest in the shade and gather flowers, for the doll would have the kitchen garden weeded, and the beds of cabbage watered, and plenty of fresh water brought from the well, and the stoves heated exactly right. And, besides this, the little doll told her how to make, from a certain herb, an ointment which prevented her from ever being sunburnt. So all the joy in life that came to Vasilissa came to her through the tiny doll that she always carried in her pocket.

Years passed, till Vasilissa grew up and became of an age when it is good to marry. All the young men in the village, high and low, rich and poor, asked for her hand, while not one of them stopped even to look at the stepmother's two daughters, so ill-favored were they. This angered their mother still more against Vasilissa; she answered every gallant who came with the same words: "Never shall the younger be wed before the older ones!" and each time, when she had let a suitor out of the door, she would soothe her anger and hatred by beating her stepdaughter. So while Vasilissa grew each day more lovely and graceful, she was often miserable, and but for the little doll in her pocket, would have longed to leave the world.

Now there came a time when it became necessary for the merchant to leave his home and to travel to a distant Kingdom. He bade farewell to his wife and her two daughters, kissed Vasilissa and gave her his blessing and departed, bidding them say a prayer each day for his safe return. Scarce was he out of sight of the village, however, when his wife sold his house, packed all his goods and moved with them to another dwelling far from the town, in a gloomy neighborhood on the edge of a wild forest. Here every day, while her two daughters were working indoors, the merchant's wife would send Vasilissa on one errand or other into the forest, either to find a branch of a certain rare bush or to bring her flowers or berries.

Now deep in this forest, as the stepmother well knew, there was a green lawn and on the lawn stood a miserable little hut on hens' legs, where lived a certain mage, an old witch grandmother. She lived alone and none dared go near the hut, for she ate people as one eats chickens. The merchant's wife sent Vasilissa into the forest each day, hoping she might meet the old witch and be devoured; but always the girl came home safe and sound, because the little doll showed her where the bush, the flowers and the berries grew, and did not let her go near the hut that stood on hens' legs. And each time the stepmother hated her more and more because she came to no harm.

One autumn evening the merchant's wife called the three girls to her and gave them each a task. One of her daughters she bade make a piece of lace, the other to knit a pair of hose, and to Vasilissa she gave a basket of flax to be spun. She bade each finish a certain amount. Then she put out all the fires in the house, leaving only a single candle lighted in the room where the three girls worked, and she herself went to sleep.

They worked an hour, they worked two hours, they worked three hours, when one of the elder daughters took up the tongs to straighten the wick of the candle. She pretended to do this awkwardly (as her mother had bidden her) and put the candle out, as if by accident.

"What are we to do now?" asked her sister. "The fires are all out, there is no other light in all the house, and our tasks are not done."

"We must go and fetch fire," said the first. "The only house near is a hut in the forest, where a Baba Yaga lives. One of us must go and borrow fire from her."

"I have enough light from my steel pins," said the one who was making the lace, "and I will not go."

"And I have plenty of light from my silver needles," said the other, who was knitting the hose, "and I will not go.

"Thou, Vasilissa," they both said, "shalt go and fetch the fire, for thou hast neither steel pins nor silver needles and cannot see to spin thy flax!" They both rose up, pushed Vasilissa out of the house and locked the door, crying:

"Thou shalt not come in till thou hast fetched the fire."

Vasilissa sat down on the doorstep, took the tiny doll from one pocket and from another the supper she had ready for it, put the food before it and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little and listen to my sorrow. I must go to the hut of the old mage in the dark forest to borrow some fire and I fear she will eat me. Tell me! What shall I do?"

Then the doll's eyes began to shine like two stars and it became alive. It ate a little and said: "Do not fear, little Vasilissa. Go where thou hast been sent. While I am with thee no harm shall come to thee from the old witch." So Vasilissa put the doll back into her pocket, crossed herself and started out into the dark, wild forest.

Whether she walked a short way or a long way the telling is easy, but the journey was hard. The wood was very dark, and she could not help trembling from fear. Suddenly she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and a man on horseback galloped past her. He was dressed all in white, the horse under him was milk-white and the harness was white, and just as he passed her it became twilight.

She went a little further and again she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and there came another man on horseback galloping past her. He was dressed all in red, and the horse under him was blood-red and its harness was red, and just as he passed her the sun rose.

That whole day Vasilissa walked, for she had lost her way. She could find no path at all in the dark wood and she had no food to set before the little doll to make it alive.

But at evening she came all at once to the green lawn where the wretched little hut stood on its hens' legs. The wall around the hut was made of human bones and on its top were skulls. There was a gate in the wall, whose hinges were the bones of human feet and whose locks were jaw-bones set with sharp teeth. The sight filled Vasilissa with horror and she stopped as still as a post buried in the ground.

As she stood there a third man on horseback came galloping up. His face was black, he was dressed all in black, and the horse he rode was coal-black. He galloped up to the gate of the hut and disappeared there as if he had sunk through the ground and at that moment the night came and the forest grew dark.

But it was not dark on the green lawn, for instantly the eyes of all the skulls on the wall were lighted up and shone till the place was as bright as day. When she saw this Vasilissa trembled so with fear that she could not run away.

Then suddenly the wood became full of a terrible noise; the trees began to groan, the branches to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the mage came flying from the forest. She was riding in a great iron mortar and driving it with the pestle, and as she came she swept away her trail behind her with a kitchen broom.

She rode up to the gate and stopping, said:

Little House, little House, Stand the way thy mother placed thee, Turn thy back to the forest and thy face to me!

And the little hut turned facing her and stood still. Then smelling all around her, she cried: "Foo! Foo! I smell a smell that is Russian. Who is here?"

Vasilissa, in great fright, came nearer to the old woman and bowing very low, said: "It is only Vasilissa, grandmother. My stepmother's daughters sent me to thee to borrow some fire."

"Well," said the old witch, "I know them. But if I give thee the fire thou shalt stay with me some time and do some work to pay for it. If not, thou shalt be eaten for my supper." Then she turned to the gate and shouted: "Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!" Instantly the locks unlocked, the gate opened of itself, and the Baba Yaga rode in whistling. Vasilissa entered behind her and immediately the gate shut again and the locks snapped tight.

When they had entered the hut the old witch threw herself down on the stove, stretched out her bony legs and said:

"Come, fetch and put on the table at once everything that is in the oven. I am hungry." So Vasilissa ran and lighted a splinter of wood from one of the skulls on the wall and took the food from the oven and set it before her. There was enough cooked meat for three strong men. She brought also from the cellar milk, honey, and red wine, and the mage ate and drank the whole, leaving the girl only a little cabbage soup, a crust of bread and a morsel of suckling pig.

When her hunger was satisfied, the old witch, growing drowsy, lay down on the stove and said: "Listen to me well, and do what I bid thee. Tomorrow when I drive away, do thou clean the yard, sweep the floors and cook my supper. Then take a quarter of a measure of wheat from my store house and pick out of it all the black grains and the wild peas. Mind thou dost all that I have bade; if not, thou shalt be eaten for my supper."

Presently the Baba Yaga turned toward the wall and began to snore and Vasilissa knew that she was fast asleep. Then she went into the corner, took the tiny doll from her pocket, put before it a bit of bread and a little cabbage soup that she had saved, burst into tears and said: "There, my little doll, take it. Eat a little, drink a little, and listen to my grief. Here I am in the house of the old witch and the gate in the wall is locked and I am afraid. She has given me a difficult task and if I do not do all she has bade, she will eat me tomorrow. Tell me: What shall I do?"

Then the eyes of the little doll began to shine like two candles. It ate a little of the bread and drank a little of the soup and said: "Do not be afraid, Vasilissa the Beautiful. Be comforted. Say thy prayers, and go to sleep. The morning is wiser than the evening." So Vasilissa trusted the little doll and was comforted. She said her prayers, lay down on the floor and went fast asleep.

When she woke next morning, very early, it was still dark. She rose and looked out of the window, and she saw that the eyes of the skulls on the wall were growing dim. As she looked, the man dressed all in white, riding the milk-white horse, galloped swiftly around the corner of the hut, leaped the wall and disappeared, and as he went, it became quite light and the eyes of the skulls flickered and went out. The old witch was in the yard; now she began to whistle and the great iron mortar and pestle and the kitchen broom flew out of the hut to her. As she got into the mortar the man dressed all in red, mounted on the blood-red horse, galloped like the wind around the corner of the hut, leaped the wall and was gone, and at that moment the sun rose. Then the Baba Yaga shouted: "Ho! Ye, my solid locks, unlock! Thou, my stout gate, open!" And the locks unlocked and the gate opened and she rode away in the mortar, driving with the pestle and sweeping away her path behind her with the broom.

When Vasilissa found herself left alone, she examined the hut, wondering to find it filled with such an abundance of everything. Then she stood still, remembering all the work that she had been bidden to do and wondering what to begin first. But as she looked she rubbed her eyes, for the yard was already neatly cleaned and the floors were nicely swept, and the little doll was sitting in the storehouse picking the last black grains and wild peas out of the quarter- measure of wheat.

Vasilissa ran and took the little doll in her arms. "My dearest little doll!" she cried. "Thou hast saved me from my trouble! Now I have only to cook the Baba Yaga's supper, since all the rest of the tasks are done!"

"Cook it, with God's help," said the doll, "and then rest, and may the cooking of it make thee healthy!" And so saying it crept into her pocket and became again only a little wooden doll.

So Vasilissa rested all day and was refreshed; and when it grew toward evening she laid the table for the old witch's supper, and sat looking out of the window, waiting for her coming. After awhile she heard the sound of a horse's hoofs and the man in black, on the coal-black horse, galloped up to the wall gate and disappeared like a great dark shadow, and instantly it became quite dark and the eyes of all the skulls began to glitter and shine.
Then all at once the trees of the forest began to creak and groan and the leaves and the bushes to moan and sigh, and the Baba Yaga came riding out of the dark wood in the huge iron mortar, driving with the pestle and sweeping out the trail behind her with the kitchen broom. Vasilissa let her in; and the witch, smelling all around her, asked:

"Well, hast thou done perfectly all the tasks I gave thee to do, or am I to eat thee for my supper?"

"Be so good as to look for thyself, grandmother," answered Vasilissa.

The Baba Yaga went all about the place, tapping with her iron pestle, and carefully examining everything. But so well had the little doll done its work that, try as hard as she might, she could not find anything to complain of. There was not a weed left in the yard, nor a speck of dust on the floors, nor a single black grain or wild pea in the wheat.

The old witch was greatly angered, but was obliged to pretend to be pleased. "Well," she said, "thou hast done all well." Then, clapping her hands, she shouted: "Ho! my faithful servants! Friends of my heart! Haste and grind my wheat!" Immediately three pairs of hands appeared, seized the measure of wheat and carried it away.

The Baba Yaga sat down to supper, and Vasilissa put before her all the food from the oven, with kvass, honey, and red wine. The old witch ate it, bones and all, almost to the last morsel, enough for four strong men, and then, growing drowsy, stretched her bony legs on the stove and said: "Tomorrow do as thou hast done today, and besides these tasks take from my storehouse a half-measure of poppy seeds and clean them one by one. Someone has mixed earth with them to do me a mischief and to anger me, and I will have them made perfectly clean." So saying she turned to the wall and soon began to snore.

When she was fast asleep Vasilissa went into the corner, took the little doll from her pocket, set before it a part of the food that was left and asked its advice. And the doll, when it had become alive, and eaten a little food and sipped a little drink, said: "Don't worry, beautiful Vasilissa! Be comforted. Do as thou didst last night: say thy prayers and go to sleep." So Vasilissa was comforted. She said her prayers and went to sleep and did not wake till next morning when she heard the old witch in the yard whistling. She ran to the window just in time to see her take her place in the big iron mortar, and as she did so the man dressed all in red, riding on the blood red horse, leaped over the wall and was gone, just as the sun rose over the wild forest.

As it had happened on the first morning, so it happened now. When Vasilissa looked she found that the little doll had finished all the tasks excepting the cooking of the supper. The yard was swept and in order, the floors were as clean as new wood, and there was not a grain of earth left in the half-measure of poppy seeds. She rested and refreshed herself till the afternoon, when she cooked the supper, and when evening came she laid the table and sat down to wait for the old witch's coming.

Soon the man in black, on the coal-black horse, galloped up to the gate, and the dark fell and the eyes of the skulls began to shine like day; then the ground began to quake, and the trees of the forest began to creak and the dry leaves to rustle, and the Baba Yaga came riding in her iron mortar, driving with her pestle and sweeping away her path with her broom.

When she came in she smelled around her and went all about the hut, tapping with the pestle; but pry and examine as she might, again she could see no reason to find fault and was angrier than ever. She clapped her hands and shouted:

"Ho! my trusty servants! Friends of my soul! Haste and press the oil out of my poppy seeds!" And instantly the three pairs of hands appeared, seized the measure of poppy seeds and carried it away.

Presently the old witch sat down to supper and Vasilissa brought all she had cooked, enough for five grown men, and set it before her, and brought beer and honey, and then she herself stood silently waiting. The Baba Yaga ate and drank it all, every morsel, leaving not so much as a crumb of bread; then she said snappishly: "Well, why dost thou say nothing, but stand there as if thou wast dumb?"

"I spoke not," Vasilissa answered, "because I dared not. But if thou wilt allow me, grandmother, I wish to ask thee some questions."

"Well," said the old witch, "only remember that every question does not lead to good. If thou knowest overmuch, thou wilt grow old too soon. What wilt thou ask?"

"I would ask you," said Vasilissa, "of the men on horse back. When I came to your hut, a rider passed me. He was dressed all in white and he rode a milk-white horse. Who was he?"

"That was my white, bright day," answered the mage angrily. "He is a servant of mine, but he cannot hurt you. Ask me more."

"Afterwards," said Vasilissa, "a second rider overtook me. He was dressed in red and the horse he rode was blood- red. Who was he?"

"That was my servant, the round, red sun," answered the mage, "and he, too, cannot injure you," and she ground her teeth. "Ask me more."

"A third rider," said Vasilissa, "came galloping up to the gate. He was black, his clothes were black and the horse was coal-black. Who was he?"

"That was my servant, the black, dark night," answered the old witch furiously; "but he also cannot harm you. Ask me more."

But Vasilissa, remembering what the mage had said, that not every question led to good, was silent.

"Ask me more!" cried the old witch. "Why do you not ask me more? Ask me of the three pairs of hands that serve me!"

But Vasilissa saw how she snarled at her and she answered: "The three questions are enough for me. As you said, grandmother, I would not, through knowing over much, become too soon old."

"It is well for you," said the mage, "that you did not ask of them, but only of what you saw outside of this hut. Had you asked of them, my servants, the three pairs of hands would have seized you also, as they did the wheat and poppy seeds, to be my food. Now I would ask a question in my turn: How is it that you have been able, in a little time, to do perfectly all the tasks I gave you? Tell me!"

Vasilissa was so frightened to see how the old witch ground her teeth that she almost told her of the little doll; but she bethought herself just in time, and answered: "The blessing of my dead mother helps me."

Then the mage sprang up in a fury. "Get out of my house this moment!" she shrieked. "I want no one who bears a blessing to cross my threshold! Get thee gone!"

Vasilissa ran to the yard, and behind her she heard the old witch shouting to the locks and the gate. The locks opened, the gate swung wide, and she ran out on to the lawn. The mage seized from the wall one of the skulls with burning eyes and flung it after her. "There," she howled, "is the fire for thy stepmother's daughters. Take it. That is what they sent you here for, and may they have joy of it!"

Vasilissa put the skull on the end of a stick and darted away through the forest, running as fast as she could, finding her path by the skull's glowing eyes which went out only when morning came.

Whether she ran a long way or a short way, and whether the road was smooth or rough, towards evening of the next day, when the eyes in the skull were beginning to glimmer, she came out of the dark, wild forest to her stepmother's house.

When she came near to the gate, she thought, "Surely, by this time they will have found some fire," and threw the skull into the hedge; but it spoke to her, and said: "Do not throw me away, beautiful Vasilissa; bring me to thy stepmother." So, looking at the house and seeing no spark of light in any of the windows, she took up the skull again and carried it with her.

Now since Vasilissa had gone, the stepmother and her two daughters had had neither fire nor light in all the house. When they struck flint and steel the tinder would not catch and the fire they brought from the neighbors would go out immediately as soon as they carried it over the threshold, so that they had been unable to light or warm themselves or to cook food to eat. Therefore now, for the first time in her life, Vasilissa found herself welcomed. They opened the door to her and the merchant's wife was greatly rejoiced to find that the light in the skull did not go out as soon as it was brought in. "Maybe the witch's fire will stay," she said, and took the skull into the best room, set it on a candlestick and called her two daughters to admire it.

But the eyes of the skull suddenly began to glimmer and to glow like red coals, and wherever the three turned or ran the eyes followed them, growing larger and brighter till they flamed like two furnaces, and hotter and hotter till the merchant's wife and her two wicked daughters took fire and were burned to ashes. Only Vasilissa the Beautiful was not touched.

In the morning Vasilissa dug a deep hole in the ground and buried the skull. Then she locked the house and set out to the village, where she went to live with an old woman who was poor and childless, and so she remained for many days, waiting for her father's return from the far-distant Tsardom.

But, sitting lonely, time soon began to hang heavy on her hands. One day she said to the old woman: "It is dull for me, grandmother, to sit idly hour by hour. My hands want work to do. Go, therefore, and buy me some flax, the best and finest to be found anywhere, and at least I can spin."

The old woman hastened and bought some flax of the best sort and Vasilissa sat down to work. So well did she spin that the thread came out as even and fine as a hair, and presently there was enough to begin to weave. But so fine was the thread that no frame could be found to weave it upon, nor would any weaver undertake to make one.

Then Vasilissa went into her closet, took the little doll from her pocket, set food and drink before it and asked its help. And after it had eaten a little and drunk a little, the doll became alive and said: "Bring me an old frame and an old basket and some hairs from a horse's mane, and I will arrange everything for thee." Vasilissa hastened to fetch all the doll had asked for and when evening came, said her prayers, went to sleep, and in the morning she found ready a frame, perfectly made, to weave her fine thread upon.

She wove one month, she wove two months-all the winter Vasilissa sat weaving, weaving her fine thread, till the whole piece of linen was done, of a texture so fine that it could be passed, like thread, through the eye of a needle. When the spring came she bleached it, so white that no snow could be compared with it. Then she said to the old woman: "Take the linen to the market, grandmothers and sell it, and the money shall suffice to pay for my food and lodging." When the old woman examined the linen, however, she said:

"Never will I sell such cloth in the market place; no one should wear it except it be the King himself, and tomorrow I shall carry it to the Palace."

Next day, accordingly, the old woman went to the King’s splendid Palace and fell to walking up and down before the windows. The servants came to ask her errand but she answered them nothing, and kept walking up and down. At length the King opened his window, and asked: "What do you want, old woman, that you walk here?"

"O Tsar's Majesty" the old woman answered, "I have with me a marvelous piece of linen stuff, so wondrously woven that I will show it to none but thee."

The King bade them bring her before him and when he saw the linen he was struck with astonishment at its fineness and beauty. "What wilt thou take for it, old woman?" he asked.

"There is no price that can buy it, Little Father King," she answered; "but I have brought it to you as a gift." The King could not thank the old woman enough. He took the linen and sent her to her house with many rich presents.

Seamstresses were called to make shirts for him out of the cloth; but when it had been cut up, so fine was it that no one of them was deft and skillful enough to sew it. The best seamstresses in all the Kingdom were summoned but none dared undertake it. So at last the King sent for the old woman and said: "If thou didst know how to spin such thread and weave such linen, thou must also know how to sew me shirts from it."

And the old woman answered: "O Tsar's Majesty, it was not I who wove the linen; it is the work of my adopted daughter."

"Take it, then," the Tsar said, "and bid her do it for me." The old woman brought the linen home and told Vasilissa the King's command: "Well I knew that the work would needs be done by my own hands," said Vasilissa, and, locking herself in her own room, began to make the shirts. So fast and well did she work that soon a dozen were ready. Then the old woman carried them to the Tsar, while Vasilissa washed her face, dressed her hair, put on her best gown and sat down at the window to see what would happen. And presently a servant in the livery of the Palace came to the house and entering, said: "The King, our lord, desires himself to see the clever needlewoman who has made his shirts and to reward her with his own hands."

Vasilissa rose and went at once to the Palace, and as soon as the King saw her, he fell in love with her with all his soul. He took her by her white hand and made her sit beside him. "Beautiful maiden," he said, "never will I part from thee and thou shalt be my wife."

So the King and Vasilissa the Beautiful were married, and her father returned from the far-distant Kingdom, and he and the old woman lived always with her in the splendid Palace, in all joy and contentment. And as for the little wooden doll, she carried it about with her in her pocket all her life long.

Valentine's cousin

This week's story is called Valentine's cousin and is based on the idea of what else could be hidden behind the red roses and chocolate celebration. 

                                                            Valentine’s cousin:

It had been a nice evening he would give her that much credit. As they walked side by side, hands entwined, through the winter-wilderness he could at least appreciate that tonight might turn out to be a good memory for him, something that he could hide at the back of his mind and recall glimpses of on a rainy day. Julia was the perfect candidate for a future wife and only the knowledge of what would become her later this evening pushed away that sweet pink feeling of her being “the one.” He hoped that it was just the Valentine’s mood that was tugging at his heart. Julia was smart, fairly pretty but not high maintenance like some of the others had been and most importantly she adored him. Of course he knew that this would eventually be her downfall but she would never be aware of this until it was too late. He had met her through a friend of a friend after suggesting to various people that it might be time for him to start dating again. Most of them agreed that he deserved it after being left at the alter on Valentines the year before. Of course they didn’t know the whole truth of things and he preferred that it stayed that way. The last couple of months he and Julia had grown very close and the public opinion seemed to be that they were made for each-other. She would look at him over the coffee cup or while she thought he wasn’t looking with eyes full of love that would only make his heart sink even further. He would never love her back but of course she didn’t know this. The years of doing this had taught him how best to lie and he prided himself with the fact that he could deceive even the best judge of character.

He sensed that the creature was near them now growing impatient as the clock drew closer to midnight and it had still not fed. Jared didn’t quite know why he wanted to delay the inevitable, maybe he was consciously living on a hope that they could somehow shake off the creature that lurked in the shadows or maybe it was the general feel of the season. Deep down inside he knew there was no putting it off any longer.

Julia squeezed his hand as if she was aware that his thoughts were on longer occupied with her.

“Do you want to call a cab and go home when we get to my place?”

He shook his head in the darkness between them. He wanted to feel her skin against his one last time before it was too late. Drawing her close he kissed her passionately. When they broke apart he noticed her white teeth in the pale moonlight as she grinned.

“Alright cowboy, let’s get home then.”

Again he nodded and she grabbed his behind with a giggle. Behind them yellow eyes followed the scene with great interest. The creature had been hot on their heels all night waiting for the right moment to pounce. It licked its black lips as it felt the passion rising between the man and the woman. Oh yes this man knew what the creature liked best. It followed them through the landscape and back into the city on the other side of the park. It knew where the woman lived, it had watched them and seen how the love between them had grown deliciously rich. It felt the confusion of the male who was unsure of how their deal was meant to play out. But it would remind him tonight that he was far off from paying his debt and the creature was very unwilling to let such a good servant good that easily.

Jared had lost any sense of where the creature had gone and again he felt that flicker of hope that maybe this time he would be left alone. Julia lived in the posh area of town on the other side of the park. If things had been different maybe he could have lived here too someday, but that dream was too farfetched to take any hold in reality.

They both knew how this night would play out although he was the only one with the knowledge of how it would end. First they would share half a bottle of wine while Julia snuggled up against him, then they would start exploring and finally they would end up in her bedroom. Julia would make sure that her dress was folded neatly over a chair or put back in the closet. She liked things to be done in a certain order and knew that it was teasing when she could withhold that most intimate moment a bit longer. When they made love she would quietly give herself over to being under someone else’s control   for a little while.  Patiently she would lie there waiting to be pleasured by him enjoying the feeling of his weight on hers. He knew this was the only time she would ever lose control over anything in her life and he understood the importance of her own little sacred ritual.

Maybe she felt some of the urgency that had been riding him all night but something between them changed the moment they stepped through her front door. Maybe she felt the presence of the creature as something driving her wild to the point that she couldn’t control her actions. As he closed the door behind them her hand found his belt and she kissed him hard and demanding. In no time she had managed to undress them both and thrown their clothes in a messy pile on the floor. He felt urges that could not be pushed away surge through him as she pushed him down on the couch. For a little while he could forget himself and his troubles in their lovemaking but he was cruelly interrupted in his bliss when the creaking sound from the window announced that the creature was present. He saw the yellow eyes growing wide with pleasure at the scene it had arrived to. Slowly and slithering it came nearer the couch and Jared felt the cold stench of its breath drawing nearer. Julia was too engaged in her own pleasure to sense anything. The creature slowly licked her shoulder as if it wanted to savor the flavor of her as some sort of perverse memory. Closing his eyes Jared tried not to imagine what it was doing to her but the images in his mind were probably far worse than anything he would see tonight. As he opened his eyes he gasped slightly at the sight of the creature’s hands now moving up and down the body of the oblivious woman who seemed to become more passionate with every touch.

Trying hard to not focus on the hands of the creature which now moved into a cold embrace with both its claw-like hands over her heart, Jared made the mistake of looking into her eyes. He had made this mistake before with another woman and the sight had haunted him for months. But once he had locked his eyes into Julia’s the little part of him which was curious to when the moment occurred couldn’t quite look away. He watched in horror as the loving light in her eyes slowly diminished and turned first into confusion and then indifference as she rode him harder. With a last sigh she let go of their love and closed her eyes while their bodies exploded in pleasure for the last time together. A single tear ran down the side of his face as he turned away from her knowing that it was over. He felt the effect of another part of his debt being paid off with a staggering pain in his chest as if a piece of his heart was left behind with her.

After this Valentine’s cousin would only require another 95 goodbyes of him. 95 times his heart would break a little and then we would be left to die alone forever excluded from both heaven and hell having lived out both in multiple life-times on earth.  

First week of the Litgraphy project

This story is inspired by the following picture.
http://i10.photobucket.com/albums/a124/rabbich/Landscapes/_MG_0261.jpg

A for Alexander:

As the blur of classical music rang through-out the large concrete building Alexander watched as his mother stuffed random artifacts from around the house into a large fabric suitcase. He was yet too young to understand that in Soviet Ukraine classical music meant that a great tragedy had occurred. He had overheard his father and mother whispering this morning before his father had hastily donned the extra layer of clothes that was supposed to help him against fighting whatever big monsters had come out of the hole of the giant explosions. With tears streaming down her cheeks his mother had assured him that his father would beat the scary monsters. Their frightened whispers had spoken of rocks falling from the skies and men whose faces were burning off. Alexander was worried that this monster might be too much for his father to beat. He had heard stories about great dragons that swallowed men whole and sent streams of fire into the air, but never anything like this. Alexander didn’t know what the citizens of Pripyat had done to acquire this wrath from a dragon, he only knew that it had made the grown-ups talk in hushed voices and he and the other children had been kept inside all day. At first his mother had attempted to make it fun for him playing games and cooking his favorite meal, but as the classical music had taken over everything in the radio she had spent more time talking to the other women in the building that entertaining him. Alexander had drawn several fine pictures of his father fighting the dragon and his mother had hastily put them on the wall not commenting on the general performance of his artistic flow as she usually did.

He heard her moving around in the other room praying and crying while she dropped things into the large suitcase. If he was very quiet he might be able to slip out and take a walk around the garden. Normally the older boys would hang out around the benches in the back and Alexander never went there unless accompanied by his mother and a laundry basket. They would shout weird words at his mother but as always she would calmly smile and nod going about her business. Quietly and without closing the metal door behind him he slipped into the hallway and leaped down the staircase taking the steps a couple at a time. As he went down he noticed that some of the apartments had open doors. He found this quite odd as the women of Pripyat were normally afraid of things going missing if they left them unguarded.  Continuing down the staircase he passed the door of his best friend Nikolai. This door was closed and Alexander recognized the same classical music coming from under the door. It was as if everyone in the building was sitting around and waiting for something reassuring to come out of the radio while brave men like his father fought the dragon. Alexander was sure that when he grew up he would be a brave dragon slayer like his father, at the age of 8 he was almost as tall as his mother and probably also stronger than her but she was a woman and didn’t quite count. Alexander wanted to be a giant man like his father, strong country stock as his mother always said just before she got that gleam of love in her eye that was only reserved for her husband.

Outside Alexander allowed himself to breathe deeply taking in the cool spring air. There was a sickly smell in the air like rotten fish and it was almost as if he could feel the dragon’s fire prickling on his skin. He walked to the back and sat down on the benches that for once were empty. Only a crumbled up packet of cheap American cigarettes and half a bottle of vodka showed that someone had been here recently. The metal stands that normally held vast amounts of washing were also empty as if no one had ever used them.

Alexander felt a shiver run down his spine as the world around him suddenly seemed so large and empty. He imagined a time where the whole town would be empty of people, no more singing in the garden when the men came home from work, no more smell of food served by loving mothers and wives. He imagined a time where only ghosts would roam the town of Pripayat and could almost feel their presence here in the hazy sunlight. Even now at the precious age of eight he knew that something had changed something that would turn his world upside down. Right there in the center of his being he knew that he would never see his father again even if he did not quite comprehend why this was. He fell to the ground hugging himself. He felt the dreams of hundreds of people shatter and that from this day onwards he would no longer be allowed to play again, he would be an adult and responsible for his mother.

A loud sound like a fork scraping a plate brought him back to reality. Through the cracked window of the building he heard the many radios change from classical music to a loud droning voice repeating again and again that the citizens of Pripyat where to pack their most important belongings as they would be removed from town shortly. He heard women screaming and children crying.

When his mother found him shortly after he was screaming for his father to return although he knew he would never see him again. As the bus took them away Alexander’s outbursts had died down to a weak state of sobbing, his voice coarse with screaming. It was of course only later when the medal arrived that he knew for sure that the dragon had won the fight.