Vasilisa the Beautiful

My name is Vasilisa, and I live in a little cottage right at the edge of a deep, dark wood. Before my dear mother passed away, she gave me a tiny doll, a secret friend to keep in my pocket who would always help me. This is the story of how that little doll and a bit of courage helped me face a great challenge, and it is called Vasilisa the Beautiful. After my mother was gone, my father remarried a woman who was not kind at all. She and her two daughters made my life very difficult. They gave me all the chores, from scrubbing the floors to mending their clothes. I worked from sunrise to sunset. But I was never truly alone. Every night, I would slip a small crumb of bread to my little doll. She would eat it up, and her button eyes would seem to sparkle. "Do not worry, Vasilisa," she would whisper in a voice only I could hear. "Just do your work, and everything will be all right." Her comfort gave me the strength to be kind, even when my stepfamily was cruel.

One evening, my stepmother put out all the candles and lamps in our cottage, leaving us in complete darkness. "We have no more fire," she said with a sly smile. "Vasilisa, you must go into the forest to the hut of Baba Yaga and ask her for a light." My heart thumped like a drum. Everyone knew Baba Yaga was a fearsome witch who lived in a strange hut that stood on giant chicken legs. But I had no choice. I put my doll in my pocket and whispered, "What should I do?". The doll replied, "Go where you are sent, but keep me with you always. With me, you have nothing to fear." So, I walked into the spooky woods. The trees had long, scratchy branches that looked like bony fingers, and strange sounds echoed all around me. After a long time, I saw a clearing. In the middle stood a hut perched on enormous chicken legs. It was surrounded by a fence made of bones, and on top of each post sat a skull with eyes that glowed with an eerie, fiery light. Suddenly, the ground trembled and the air roared. Baba Yaga was coming home. She flew through the air, riding in a giant mortar and pushing herself along with a pestle, sweeping away her tracks with a broom.

Baba Yaga landed with a thud and sniffed the air. "I smell a human," she screeched, her long, bony nose twitching. I stepped out from behind a tree, trembling, but I spoke in a clear voice. "Good evening, Grandmother. My stepmother sent me to ask for a light." Baba Yaga stared at me with her sharp eyes. "Very well," she cackled. "You can have your fire. But first, you must do some work for me. If you finish, you get the light. If you fail, I will eat you for dinner." The next morning, she gave me an impossible task. She pointed to a huge pile of mixed grains. "Separate all these tiny poppy seeds from the dirt by evening." My heart sank. How could I ever do that. But my little doll whispered, "Do not worry. Eat your dinner and go to sleep." While I slept, the doll hopped out of my pocket and whistled. Suddenly, thousands of tiny birds flew down and sorted every last seed, leaving a clean pile of poppy seeds and a separate pile of dirt. When Baba Yaga returned, she was astonished but just grunted and gave me another task for the next day.

After I completed every impossible task with my doll's secret help, Baba Yaga was impressed, and a little bit annoyed. "You are a very lucky girl," she grumbled. "Here is your fire." She took one of the glowing skulls from her fence and stuck it on a pole. "Take this home. It will give you all the light you need." I thanked her, took the skull, and hurried back through the woods. The skull's light was so bright it lit up the whole path. When I finally reached my cottage, my stepmother and stepsisters ran to the window. They planned to mock me for failing, but when the fiery eyes of the skull stared at them, its light seemed to search their hearts. Because their hearts were filled with so much cruelty and unkindness, the magical light was too much for them. They were turned to ash right before my eyes. Now I was free. I left the cottage and went to live in the town. My kindness and skill at weaving beautiful cloth soon caught the attention of the Tsar himself, and he asked me to be his wife. This old Russian folktale teaches us that our own inner light of kindness and courage is the most powerful magic of all, able to overcome any darkness.