Thank you for attending The Myths That Shape and for taking the time to complete the post-event survey.
As promised, we have one more story to share with you. This story has special meaning for one of the event organizers. In kindergarten, her music teacher shared the story of “Baba Yaga and the Twins.” The story comes from Russian folklore where Baba Yaga is typically depicted as a cruel figure, though some other traditions present her as more of a wise woman or prophetess.
The images in the story of the house on chicken legs and the magical towel and comb sparked a life-long love of folktales in the student, who returned to the story many times over the years to reimagine the images of the story. Eventually, she realized that there was a larger lesson in the tale that kindness spreads and comes back to you when you need it.
This version of the story is in the public domain. It was originally printed in Folk Tales From The Russian, by Verra Xenophontova Kalamantiano de Bluemnthal in 1903 and is shared below with a few gentle edits. We hope you enjoy it and thank you again for joining us for The Myths That Shape!
Baba Yaga and the Twins
Once upon a time, a man lived with his wife and their twins, a boy and a girl. Life was simple but good. Then, one day, his wife passed away. The man grieved deeply. A year went by, then another, and then more. Eventually, he realized that a house without a woman lacked order, so he remarried and had more children with his new wife.
The stepmother didn’t take kindly to the twins from her husband’s first marriage. She scolded them for no reason, gave them barely enough to eat, and sent them away from home whenever she felt like it. Over time, her resentment grew until one day, she decided to be rid of them for good.
​
“Children,” she said sweetly, masking her true intent, “I want you to visit my dear grandmother in the forest. She lives in a little hut on chicken legs. Do as she says, and she will treat you well.”
​
The twins weren’t fools. The sister, a bright and cautious girl, took her brother by the hand and ran straight to their own grandmother instead. When they told her what had happened, the old woman sighed.
​
“My poor darlings,” she said. “I wish I could keep you safe, but you must go. Listen carefully: Be kind to everyone. Speak no harsh words. Help those who need it. If you do this, help will come when you need it most.”
​
She gave them fresh milk, slices of ham, and some cookies before sending them on their way. As the twins entered the forest, they saw the strange hut just as their stepmother had described, standing on chicken legs, with a rooster’s head perched on top.
​
With steady voices, they called out, “Little house, little house! Turn your back to the trees and your face to us!”
The hut creaked and turned, and inside, they saw Baba Yaga. She was stretched across the room, one foot in one corner, the other foot in another, her long nose nearly touching the ceiling.
​
“I smell children!” she growled.
​
The children trembled but kept their manners. “Good evening, grandmother. Our stepmother sent us to serve you.”
Baba Yaga grinned. “Very well. If you complete your tasks, I will reward you. If you fail… I’ll have you for dinner.”
She ordered the girl to spin thread and the boy to carry water in a sieve to fill a tub. The girl wept at her spinning wheel, but soon, tiny mice scurried around her.
​
“Don’t cry,” they squeaked. “Give us cookies, and we’ll help.”
She gladly shared, and in return, they spun the thread for her. Meanwhile, the boy struggled with the sieve, but birds fluttered nearby.
“Give us crumbs, and we’ll tell you what to do,” they chirped.
He scattered crumbs, and they advised him, “Seal the sieve with clay and water.” He did, and the tub was full in no time.
At the door, a black cat sat watching. The girl knelt and offered it ham. “Dear cat, can you help us escape?”
The cat purred. “Take this towel and comb. Run. When you hear Baba Yaga chasing you, throw the towel behind you. If she keeps coming, throw the comb.”
That night, Baba Yaga returned and saw that their tasks were done. “Impressive,” she muttered. “Tomorrow will be harder. And if you fail, well…”
​
The children didn’t wait for tomorrow. As soon as Baba Yaga fell asleep, they grabbed the towel and comb and ran. The dogs barked after them, but they threw down cookies. The gates wouldn’t open, but they smoothed them with oil. A birch tree tried to scratch them, but the girl tied a ribbon to its branch.
​
Meanwhile, Baba Yaga woke up and realized they were gone. She screamed at her cat. “Why didn’t you stop them?!”
“You never fed me,” the cat said. “They did.”
​
She yelled at the dogs, the gates, and the birch tree, but they all answered the same way—she had never shown them kindness, so they had no reason to help her.
​
Furious, Baba Yaga grabbed a broom and flew after the children. They heard her coming and threw down the towel. Instantly, a wide river appeared behind them. Baba Yaga searched for a way across and finally found a shallow spot. She chased after them again, but this time, the boy threw down the comb. A dark forest sprang up, so thick and tangled that she couldn’t get through.
​
Defeated, Baba Yaga turned back.
​
The twins ran home and told their father everything. “Father, why do you love us less than our other siblings?”
The man was struck with guilt. Realizing his mistake, he sent the wicked stepmother away and vowed never to neglect his children again. From then on, he cared for them as a father should, and they were safe and happy at last.