Vasilisa and the Witch of the Forest – A Russian Fairy Tale

Long ago in Northern Russia, in a small wooden hut at the edge of a dense, whispering forest, lived a kind man, his gentle wife, and their beautiful daughter named Vasilisa. Their days were peaceful, filled with the warmth of laughter and the scent of freshly baked bread.

But even the brightest skies can turn grey, and sorrow came upon the family when Vasilisa’s mother fell gravely ill. Knowing that her time was near, the mother called Vasilisa to her bedside and pressed a small wooden doll into her hand.

“My dear child,” she whispered, “keep this doll hidden and safe. Whenever you are troubled or afraid, give the doll a small piece of food, and it will help you find courage and wisdom.”

With these last words, Vasilisa’s mother closed her eyes and peacefully passed away, leaving Vasilisa and her father in deep sorrow.

In time, Vasilisa’s father remarried, hoping to bring warmth back into their home. But the woman he married was cold and proud, and she brought with her two daughters who were as unkind as they were demanding. They grew envious of Vasilisa’s beauty and gentle spirit, for no matter how hard they tried, her kindness made her even more radiant each day.

To break her spirit, the stepmother and stepsisters gave Vasilisa the hardest chores: fetching water in the cold dawn, chopping wood in the rain, scrubbing floors, and spinning yarn until her fingers ached. Yet, each morning, before beginning her chores, Vasilisa would slip away to a quiet corner and give a crumb of bread to the little doll, sharing her worries softly.

“My dear little doll, take this bread, and let me pour my troubles in your ear.”

And each day, when Vasilisa returned to her tasks, she found the wood neatly stacked, the floors swept, and the water drawn, for the doll’s magic brought help to her faithful heart.

One autumn, Vasilisa’s father left for a distant journey, leaving her alone with her stepmother and stepsisters. Days grew cold, and soon their firewood burned low. One evening, as darkness fell and the fire sputtered out, the stepmother turned to Vasilisa.

“Go into the forest and fetch us a light from Baba Yaga,” she ordered.

Fear swept over Vasilisa, for she had heard stories of Baba Yaga, the fearsome witch who lived deep in the forest in a hut that stood on giant chicken legs, a witch said to gobble up those who wandered too close. But remembering her mother’s words, Vasilisa took courage. She slipped the doll into her pocket, gave it a crumb of bread, and whispered her fear.

The doll replied softly, “Do not worry, dear Vasilisa. As long as I am with you, no harm shall come to you.”

Taking a deep breath, Vasilisa stepped into the night, guided only by the moon and the comforting weight of the doll in her pocket.

As she walked through the dark forest, Vasilisa saw a rider in a white cloak pass swiftly by, bringing the dawn. Later, a rider in a red cloak passed, turning the sky to afternoon, and as night fell, a rider in a black cloak sped past, bringing darkness once more.

At last, Vasilisa came to a clearing lit by eerie skulls with glowing eyes, marking the fence of Baba Yaga’s hut. The strange wooden house turned on its chicken legs to face Vasilisa, lowering itself to the ground with a creak as the door slowly opened.

From within appeared Baba Yaga, with sharp eyes and a nose as long as her crooked staff.

“I smell the scent of a visitor,” she cackled. “What brings you to my forest, child?”

Vasilisa bravely stepped forward. “My stepmother has sent me to fetch a light from you.”

Baba Yaga narrowed her eyes. “Very well, but you must earn it. Complete the tasks I give you, and you may take the light home. Fail, and you will stay here forever.”

Inside the hut, Baba Yaga gave Vasilisa impossible tasks: separating grains of millet from dirt, cleaning the hut, preparing meals, and fetching water using a sieve instead of a bucket.

Each time, Vasilisa fed her doll a crumb and whispered her worries, and each morning, she awoke to find the tasks miraculously completed. The yard was swept, the soup was made, and the water tank was full.

Baba Yaga was astonished, for she had never seen such determination in a child. Finally, seeking to test her once more, Baba Yaga commanded Vasilisa to count all the stars in the sky before dawn.

That night, Vasilisa tried to count the stars, but they danced and twinkled until her eyes blurred. In tears, she fed the doll a crumb and shared her fear.

The doll replied, “Rest, dear Vasilisa. Trust in the kindness of your heart.”

As Vasilisa closed her eyes, the black-cloaked rider appeared in the sky, whispering the secret number of stars before fading with the night.

When morning came, Baba Yaga asked for the number, and Vasilisa answered confidently. Baba Yaga’s eyes widened, and though she was a witch, she kept her promise.

“You have earned your light,” Baba Yaga said, handing Vasilisa a skull with glowing eyes. “Take it, and let it guide you home.”

Vasilisa thanked Baba Yaga and began the long journey home, carrying the glowing skull to light her way. When she arrived, the light from the skull’s eyes shone so brightly that it turned her stepmother and stepsisters to ash, freeing Vasilisa from their cruelty forever.

Soon after, a kind old woman in the village welcomed Vasilisa into her home, treating her with the love she had long missed. Vasilisa helped the old woman, spinning fine thread and weaving beautiful cloth as light as air, which the old woman took to the palace.

When the young Tsarevich saw the cloth, he was so amazed by its beauty that he wished to meet the one who had made it. When he saw Vasilisa, her kindness and gentle spirit touched his heart, and he asked her to become his wife.

Vasilisa accepted, bringing her little doll with her to the palace, where she always remembered the promise of kindness, courage, and faith. Together with the Tsarevich, she lived happily, using her skills to help the people of the land.

And the little doll? It remained in her pocket, a reminder that with courage, honesty, and the help of small kindnesses, even the darkest trials can lead to the light.

Moral of the Story

Kindness, courage, and faith can overcome cruelty, and even the darkest paths can lead to new beginnings.