And now his group was separated.
Matthew outside, Richard trapped somewhere within the recesses of the cottage. Biting his lip in anger, he was unable to help his companions. They were good men, and followed him into the cottage to an unknown fate. He looked around, scanning the walls for a way out, perhaps a secret panel. Nearing one of the bookshelves, he grabbed a text and looked at the covering. The words were in a different language, but seemed vaguely familiar.
Slovakian, maybe even Russian, he thought. Picking up several more, they were all written in the same dialect. Nothing made sense here. But he knew one thing - a trap had been laid, and they’d walked right into the middle of it.
He noticed a tall ladder leaning against the far wall, and he rushed over to. Kyle peered into the rafters high above, wondering if a door was overhead.
Carrying the ladder to one of the beams, which supported the cottage, he placed it against the side and started up.
Matthew’s eyes grew wide with fear as the huge spider crept towards him. The creature’s forelegs waved in the air, a chittering noise escaping from it. His arms burned from the harsh grip that held him. The figure out of the mist came near, and the imprisoned man saw an old crone dressed in a wraparound shawl, flecks of brown and yellow covering the weaved garb.
The hag spoke, and Matthew trembled in terror.
“I have come to receive my payment, for the hospitality that you greedily accepted.”
“Wh-who are you?” Matthew stammered, as the spider was almost on him. “Make it go away.”
“My name is Jezi, and no, I will not make it go away. How quickly you forget. A toast was made, and you drank deeply, placing yourself in my debt. And now, the time has arrived to fulfill that oath.”
The spider lunged forward, biting the woodsman in the neck as he screamed in agony.
“Don’t worry, my young friend. You’ll wake up soon enough, although you might wish otherwise.”
She laughed mirthlessly as Matthew fell to the ground, the spider dragging him off.
The battle was hopeless - Richard knew it from the onset.
Now wounded in a dozen places, he was limping badly, his breathing ragged. The ogre stood a safe distance from him, face leering with grim confidence. Richard had scored several blows that would have killed any man alive, but the brute merely shrugged them off. It was time now to end the fight, and it walked deliberately toward the woodsman with the club raised.
Richard made a last desperate attempt to catch the monster off guard, but instead was tricked himself. The ogre made as if to bring the club down, but then with a surprisingly quick move it slapped the man on the side of his head with a mighty swipe of its arm. Richard’s ears were ringing from the assault and he flew back against the wall, falling unconscious as the ogre stood over him.
The beast grabbed Richard by the leg and threw him over a mottled shoulder like a rag doll. It lumbered to the far wall where a hidden doorway opened up, leading to a flight of stairs.
Kyle climbed higher, holding the lantern above. The shadows fled, revealing a spacious ceiling much larger than he had expected. All along the wooden beams were small figurines, some of men and others of unknown origin. They were attached by long nails, a bizarre collection of detailed beings.
He gazed at the display with great dread, black suspicions in his mind that he didn’t want to pursue. The ceiling itself seemed to have a leathery texture, an odd pinkish color that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the resemblance.
Craning his neck, he found what he had been searching for. An opening was tucked away directly beyond the support beam he was climbing against. If he could scramble up the post, it might be possible to gain the entry hole. He put the lantern around his shoulder to keep it from crashing to the floor, and found some handholds in the beam. Grabbing with both arms, he almost fell as a tremor shook the cottage.
The ladder buckled at his feet and his heart raced, not wanting to fall to the floor. He was fairly high up now, and would be injured from such a height if he lost his balance. Hesitating, Kyle again started up, and once more another tremor moved the building. This time he heard something along with the shaking. A soft noise, like an object being sucked into water.
It was brief, and then the cottage was silent.
Kyle remained poised, waiting for something else to happen, but the episode was finished. Resuming his climb, he was able to make his way to the opening, which was not so much a trapdoor but a hole in the ceiling. He listened for movement, hearing nothing. Kyle was directly below it and stretched his head into the hole, holding the lantern with one arm.
A hideous stench wafted downward, reminding him of spoiled meat. He nearly gagged from the smell, and his imagination turned into dark corridors. He stuck his head fully inside, and the light revealed a separate room reaching even higher.
A noise drifted to his ears now - a low moaning, as if from someone in distress. Kyle pulled himself up, straining his eyes to penetrate the retreating shadows. Two forms hovered overhead, several seconds lapsing before they became distinct to his shrouded vision. What he saw shot utter horror into the deepest corners of his heart.
Several yards above him were Matthew and Richard, hanging upside down like human bats. The pair was enmeshed in strands of cobweb, their bodies visible up to the knees. Their lower extremities were joined with the ceiling, which moved in a steady rhythm, like the breathing lung of a living creature.
Pathetic whimpering issued forth from the mouths of the two, kept alive for sinister reasons, which Kyle now began to understand. His stomach churned in outrage, and he felt the bile rising in protest at the ghastly scene. His companions hung well above him, and he saw nothing that could lead him to their aid. There was no ladder or rope to be seen, and he choked in desperation at their abominable plight.
Kyle gasped in shock as a tremendous quake rocked the structure, causing him to drop the lantern and nearly fall himself. Darkness closed in on him, and he held onto the post with trembling arms, trying desperately to maintain his balance. Adding to the confusion and terror, diabolical laughter filled the rafters. He needed to find an escape - his companions were beyond his help. Kyle scrambled down blindly, splinters stabbing into his exposed skin.
Ignoring the pain, the woodsman felt the ladder at his feet and managed to find a grip on it, starting down. He lowered himself precariously, seeing the glow from the fireplace beneath his legs. When he had reached the crossbeams, another tremor swayed the cottage, stronger than the first two. The vibrations knocked the ladder loose , and he plummeted down the remaining distance onto the floor below. The wicked laughter grew louder, and now a desolate voice echoed through the walls of the structure.
“You have served me well and are free to go, but your friends will pay the price for your foolish bargain, feeding the appetite of my home. Lucky for you that two will be adequate. Leaving here with that last thought shackling your conscience is satisfaction enough for me. Flee now, before I change my mind.”
Kyle crawled to the front entrance, and the fire leapt up, licking the sides of the chimney. The door flew open, a gust of wind blasting the woodsman as he righted himself. He stumbled out of the cottage, heading for the cover of the forest ahead. Insect eyes stared down at him from the boughs above, the bodies of the creatures invisible in the twilight.
The fog had dissipated, and a full, bloated moon illuminated the clearing as Kyle turned back for a final look at the building. The cottage shuddered, shifting from left to right. The woodsman watched in disbelief, unable to break his gaze away from the impossible spectacle.
Two monstrous limbs broke out from the bottom of the structure, elongating into enormous avian claws, and memories of an old fairy tale resurrected in Kyle’s mind. A cottage that was not what it seemed - an evil, unforgiving mistress who defied the ages - a black and diabolical witch.
He burst down the path as a tremendous whoosh echoed throughout the forsaken hollow, the last vestige o
f the ancient evil retreating into the sky above.
The scouting party found Kyle staggering down the slope two days later. Feverish, raving incoherently, the men brought him back to camp, but there was nothing they could do to banish the madness, which gripped the once-shrewd woodsman.
The company physician treated him but no signs of his companions were ever found, and Kyle didn’t respond to any of the questions he was asked. His physical injuries were curable, but not the spiritual ones.
Kyle’s mind was lost to him.
He would speak only a single name, something that was cast aside as the ramblings of a madman.
Baba-Yaga.
Paul Melniczek
Paul Melniczek is a small business owner and a college graduate, with a degree in business management. He also teaches a part time class at a local college, is married with two children. In year 2000 he began writing, and since then has had over seventy stories published or accepted for publication in a wide variety of markets, including print anthologies, print magazines, e-zines, and e-anthologies. Some of these include sales to Fangoria, Black Rose, Cold Storage, and many others.
He is also a musician, playing classical piano and electric guitar. In his free time he enjoys the outdoors, weightlifting, golf, and tennis. Living in the country lends much inspiration to his writing, and he is currently working on another short story collection, a fantasy novel, and a children's book.
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