The Blessing of Vasillisa

By Matthew Sawyer

A retelling of a Russian folktale involving the witch Baba Yaga and her walking hut. The old hag has found herself a granddaughter, Vasillisa. And the young girl brings a blessing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Sawyer
• Release date: Dec 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370789931

Matthew Sawyer

I hate talking about myself. Like everyone, I suppose, I am a bit narcissistic, but not egotistical. My own failure for success is that I just do not think much about myself. That is not to say I spend too much time thinking about others. In truth, I should think more of everyone; and there is a dull guilt attached to that confession. There is something of who I am, I am old enough for regrets.At my age, I am prone to think about immortality And being an atheist, there seems no alternative but science. Even so, I know that science is beyond my lifetime. I have no faith nor hope, nor do I believe in ghosts, elves, unicorns...In that hopeless disbelief, I write so there remains a record of accomplishments in my life. Unrecognized and even scorned, I continue to tell stories so I will be remembered after I am dead. My struggle with grammar and punctuation are evidence of my effort to make my writing decipherable. Because, what success means to me are hieroglyphics upon a Pharaoh's tomb.

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The Blessing of Vasillisa

(A Retelling of a Russian Folktale)

Matthew Sawyer

Published by Matthew Sawyer at Smashwords

Copyright 2016 Matthew Sawyer

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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for my mother, for whom I sad everyday

Mother yet lies in her deathbed when she calls her only child to her side. Daughter, she said to the middling red-haired Vasillisa, You will go with your uncle, Motya, when he arrives.

No, mother, Vasillisa cried. He is too thin. There is never anything sweet to eat.

It was true, Motya was very skinny. The man was poor and he had no wife nor children of his own. And Vasillisa had no other relatives. All her one uncle owned was a house that he and his brother, Vasillisa’s father, had inherited years ago from their dead mother. There Vasillisa would go and live.

The now dying mother tries to console her daughter, He will feed you, Vasillisa. Motya can hunt if that is all he is able to do. He killed the boar that tore open your father.

The meat was sour and too hard to chew, complained the red-haired girl.

I know, her exhausted mother replied.

The tragic young woman still had some strength and she uncovers a wooden doll from beneath her tattered woolen shroud. A beautiful pale face, yellow hair and a swirling blue dress decorates the figure. Vasillisa herself had no dress, but she could not be jealous. This was one was only paint.

Nevertheless, the painterly craftsmanship appeared as made by a royal artisan. On the contrary, the blocky shape of the totem was nothing more than ordinary. Motya may have carved it. Mother dispels the suspicion.

My mother gave this to me and her mother gave it to her. She is special. Vasillisa, this is my blessing to you. Until you were born then after your father was killed, she was all I had, beside you. She is enough.

Vasillisa carefully lifts the painted figure from her mother’s shaking hand. The girl is respectful because she knows this was the only gift she would receive from her mother. It was the last thing she would receive and the last of the woman’s love. What is her name?

She has no name, mother told her daughter. It is important you do not give a name to her. I do not know why, but there are things you should never know. Never ask for her name. Keep her secret.

Vasillisa nods. The girl smiles despite the silver tear in her eye.

Mother then tells her daughter before sleeping forever, "Give her a little to eat and a little to drink, then she will help you. She will save you when