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Once upon a time in a small Russian village, there lived a kind-hearted little girl named Vasilisa. She was gentle, obedient, and beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like morning dew. Her mother loved her dearly, but one day, her mother fell ill. Before she died, she gave Vasilisa a small wooden doll and said, “My dear child, keep this doll with you always. Feed it when you eat, and it will help you whenever you are in trouble.” Vasilisa wept and promised to take care of the doll as her mother had told her.
After her mother’s death, Vasilisa’s father married another woman. The stepmother had two daughters of her own who were cruel and jealous of Vasilisa’s beauty and kindness. They treated her harshly, giving her all the hardest chores to do. She had to fetch water, clean the house, cook, and sew while her stepsisters did nothing but sit and admire themselves in the mirror. But Vasilisa never complained. Whenever she felt sad or tired, she would secretly talk to her little doll, give it some food, and the doll would come alive to help her finish her work. It would clean, cook, and even bring joy to her heart with gentle words.
One day, Vasilisa’s father had to travel far away for work, leaving her alone with the wicked stepmother and her daughters. The stepmother thought it was a good chance to get rid of her once and for all. One dark evening, she said, “We have no fire in the house. Go into the forest and ask Baba Yaga for some. Bring it back if you can.” Vasilisa was frightened, for everyone knew Baba Yaga was a fearsome witch who lived deep in the forest in a hut that stood on chicken legs. But she remembered her mother’s doll, took it in her pocket, and went bravely into the dark woods.
The forest was thick and silent, with trees that seemed to whisper secrets. The path was narrow and twisted. As Vasilisa walked, she met a horseman dressed in white riding past her. The doll whispered, “That is the day.” Later, another horseman rode by, dressed in red. “That is the sun,” said the doll. And after a while, a horseman in black galloped past her silently. “That is the night.” Vasilisa was amazed, but she trusted her doll and continued walking until she saw a strange hut spinning slowly on chicken legs, surrounded by a fence made of bones. Human skulls sat on top of the fence posts, their empty eye sockets glowing faintly in the darkness.
With trembling hands, Vasilisa approached the hut and said, “Oh Baba Yaga, may I come in? My stepmother sent me to ask for fire.” The door creaked open, and Baba Yaga stepped out. She was tall and thin, with bony hands, sharp teeth, and eyes that glowed like coals. Her nose nearly touched her chin. She sniffed the air and said, “I smell the flesh of a Russian girl. Why have you come here, child?” Vasilisa bowed and said politely, “My stepmother sent me to fetch some fire.” Baba Yaga grinned wickedly and said, “Very well. You may have it if you can serve me. But if you fail, I will eat you.”
Vasilisa’s heart raced, but she nodded bravely. Baba Yaga gave her impossible tasks. She had to clean the house, cook a meal, wash clothes, sort a pile of millet mixed with dirt, and separate poppy seeds from sand—all before dawn. When Baba Yaga went to sleep, Vasilisa sat down and began to cry. Then she took out her doll, fed it a little bread, and whispered, “Please help me.” The doll came to life, clapped its tiny hands, and the room filled with soft magic. By morning, every chore was done perfectly. The house was spotless, the clothes were folded, and every grain was separated neatly.
When Baba Yaga woke up, she was surprised to see everything finished. “Hmm,” she muttered. “You are a clever girl. Perhaps you have someone helping you?” Vasilisa said shyly, “No one helped me, Grandmother. I did it myself.” Baba Yaga grinned, showing her sharp yellow teeth, and said, “We shall see. Tomorrow you will do more.” She gave Vasilisa a basket of black earth mixed with tiny seeds and ordered her to pick out every grain. Again, the doll helped her through the night. Baba Yaga was both pleased and suspicious. “Do you ask too many questions, child?” she said suddenly. “Because those who ask too many questions are eaten.”
Vasilisa quickly shook her head and stayed silent. Baba Yaga sniffed the air again and said, “Good. Then take this fire and go home.” She picked up a skull from the fence, its eyes glowing with fire, and placed it on a stick. “Take this,” she said. “It will keep your house warm.” Vasilisa thanked her politely and left the hut. The skull’s fiery eyes lit her way through the dark forest. She felt the warmth of her mother’s love through her little doll’s presence, and she walked carefully back home, guided by the strange light.
When Vasilisa returned to her house, everything inside was dark and cold. Her stepmother and stepsisters were angry and shouting at each other. They ran to her when they saw the glowing skull. “Where did you get that light?” they demanded. “From Baba Yaga,” said Vasilisa softly. They took the skull and placed it on the table. But as soon as its fiery eyes looked at them, a terrible thing happened. Flames leapt from the skull, and the stepmother and her daughters were burned to ashes. Only Vasilisa remained safe. She was frightened but grateful. She buried the skull outside and prayed for peace.
After that, Vasilisa went to live with an old woman in the village who was kind and gentle. She helped her with her work and soon became skilled at spinning thread and weaving cloth. One day, the old woman asked her to weave fine linen for sale. The cloth Vasilisa made was so delicate and beautiful that no one had ever seen anything like it. The old woman took it to the city, and even the Tsar himself saw it. He was so amazed that he said, “Only the finest hands could make such cloth. Bring me the weaver.”
When Vasilisa came before the Tsar, she was shy and humble, dressed simply but with kindness shining in her eyes. The Tsar asked her to stay and make him a shirt from the cloth. She did so, and when the Tsar put it on, it fit perfectly. The Tsar fell in love with her gentle nature and her beauty. He asked her to be his wife, and Vasilisa agreed. On their wedding day, she carried the little doll with her, for it had been her truest friend through every hardship. She whispered, “Thank you, my dear friend, for everything.” The doll smiled softly and became still forever, for its work was done.
Vasilisa lived happily with the Tsar, ruling with kindness and wisdom. She never forgot her mother’s love or the lessons she learned from her journey to Baba Yaga’s hut—the courage to face fear, the patience to work hard, and the strength of a pure heart. The memory of the dark forest and the glowing skull faded, replaced by the warmth of peace and happiness.
But in the deep woods, Baba Yaga still lived in her strange hut on chicken legs, spinning slowly in the wind. She muttered to herself and smiled. “Another clever girl escaped me,” she said, “but not without learning the cost of courage.” And so, the forest remained a place of mystery and magic, where brave hearts could find their strength and where kindness always triumphed over cruelty.