Bastian Kurz: The Witch of the Swamp

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The Witch of the Swamp

By Bastian Kurz

Baba Yaga

That was her name, she thought, as she splashed through the muddy waters of the swamp. Baba Yaga, that meant she was the witch of the swamp. She shouldn’t need to run for her life in her own swamp, her territory. 

A slimy, mossy root twined around her foot and she fell.

“Fuck,” she screamed as she fell, and after a huge splash, the water of the swamp filled her mouth, reducing her swear words to bubbles. Then, as she got herself up, the first hound reached her. Baba Yaga spit out the water of the swamp and her will manifested itself and turned the beast to ashes. She shook her head, her eyes gleaming in the dark of the night.

“I’ve run enough!” she screamed and water evaporated from her clothes as she dried at will. The root, entangled with her left foot, straightened itself and then grew to become a staff in her hand. Two other beasts, slaver dripping from their fangs, arrived and she pointed her staff at them. The two of them, their bones cracking, blood splashing, were crumbled to clods. Then her hunters arrived. The first bullet whizzed past her face and then a hailstorm of bullets broke loose. Baba Yaga, death in her eyes, was hit several times. Blood poured out of her wounds.

“I hereby maledict all of you with the curse of the Baba Yaga!” she muttered as she fell. The final curse of a dying witch unraveled and took the lives of the witch hunters.

A smirk on her face, Baba Yaga fell into the swamp waters never to be seen again.

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