The Witch

Nikolai didn’t dare drive any further.

The road had vanished into a faint green tunnel between trees, the grass grown tall enough to hide the road. Getting stuck out here, in the middle of the forest, could mean dying where he stood — he wouldn’t make it out on foot.

He climbed out of the car, wincing from the dull, familiar pain in his chest and stomach. For a moment he stood doubled over, breathing carefully, then straightened, looked around, and walked forward.

The hut looked like something out of a children’s fairy tale — small, sagging, roof tufted with weeds, door half-buried in the ground, and one tiny black window that seemed to stare at him.

“Well, at least it’s not standing on chicken legs,” Nikolai thought, and called softly:

— Hello? Anyone home?

No answer.
Only a huge black cat appeared in the window, gazed at him with detached curiosity, leapt to the ground, sat down, and began licking its paw.
Nikolai waited a little longer, then stepped closer. He leaned against the doorframe, catching his breath, then knocked again.

A muffled voice came from inside — words he couldn’t make out — and he took it for an invitation. The door opened easily when he pushed; he’d expected it to stick.
Something black darted between his legs, and he nearly jumped back before realizing the cat had slipped inside ahead of him.

He ducked and entered.

Inside, it was almost pitch-dark. He saw nothing at all.

— Good afternoon, — he said into the blackness.

Something creaked, then rustled.

— Good day to you, if you’re not joking, — came a woman’s voice. His eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, but the voice sounded young — maybe even amused.

— They told me you were a healer, — he said carefully, managing not to stumble on the last word.

— A witch, — the voice interrupted. — That’s what they told you.

Nikolai hesitated, then shrugged.

— Yes… I suppose they did. But you see—

— You’re dying, — she cut in again. — Don’t want to believe it, and nowhere else to turn. So here you are.

Nikolai’s throat went dry. He could only nod. Then croaked hoarsely:

— Cancer. The doctor says—

— To hell with the doctor, — now he could make out her silhouette: an old woman sitting at a table, and beside her, the cat — its eyes glowing like green coals.

— Cancer, frog, cockroach — call it what you like. Death’s standing right behind you, reaching for your shoulder. I see it.

Nikolai froze.

He’d known as much himself. That’s why he’d come — hoping, absurdly, for a miracle.

They’d told him: a clinic in Israel, a miracle icon in a monastery, a herbalist in a nearby village.
But he’d felt it — the clinic would be too late, the healer a fraud, and faith wasn’t something you could summon on command. Besides, they were all running businesses — monastery or healer alike — and even facing death, Nikolai couldn’t quite believe in people who printed price lists for hope.

But he believed in the witch.

And now — even more.

— I can pay, — he whispered. — I’ll give everything if—

— Life, dearie, — she interrupted. — And death. Who buys life with money?

— Then how?

Fear clawed at him again. If even the witch said it was too late…

— Opportunities don’t vanish, — said the witch, reading his thoughts. — But some folks don’t want to take them.

— I do! — Nikolai burst out. — I want to live!

— Ah, brave fool, — she sang out suddenly, her voice bright and musical, so young that for an instant Nikolai thought a girl was sitting before him in the half-dark. But he still couldn’t see her face.

— Listen closely, sweetheart — I’ll say it only once! — her voice turned old again, then dropped to a whisper. Nikolai held his breath to catch every word.

When at last he stepped outside, the witch clicked her tongue and asked the cat:

— Think he’ll hold up?

The cat stretched lazily and said nothing. Only its eyes glowed — two green sparks in the dark.

***

“One for yourself, one for… the other,” Nikolai repeated silently.

The bracelets felt unpleasant to touch, as if something invisible clung to his fingers.
The car rocked along the ruts; dusk was thickening. Pain squirmed in his chest, and from time to time he had to stop, wait out the coughing fits, then drive on again.

So when the tires finally hummed against asphalt, Nikolai sighed with relief, coughed once more, and waited.

Then pressed the gas. He wanted to be back in the city before midnight — take his pills, think about who…Who it would be.

You couldn’t buy life with money, but you could slip on a bracelet.

One for yourself, one for someone else, and life would flow. The only rule — don’t mix them up. The rest was magic.

He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other gripping the two wooden bands. They held his hope, his life — and something darker he didn’t dare name. The witch had whispered too softly; maybe that was for the best.

The coughing came again, violent and sudden. His foot slammed the pedal, the car leapt forward.

***

He didn’t even understand what happened. Instinct jerked the wheel, his foot hit the brake, the car struck something, screeched, spun, barely missed a tree, and stopped dead.

He sat motionless, lungs burning, darkness swimming before his eyes.

“I hit someone… oh God, please… tell me I didn’t…”

When his vision cleared, he reached for the door, fumbled it open, staggered out. His body felt foreign — trembling jelly and cold. He leaned against the car, drew a deep breath, and looked.

The girl lay in the bushes, thrown there by the impact. Her face was hidden; her sneakers stuck out from the grass. The branches beneath her were crushed.

He groped for his phone, dropped it, crouched, picked it up again. Weak signal, but there.

— Ambulance… — he muttered. — Call an ambulance…

The girl shuddered but didn’t speak. She was alive — her body twitching in spasms.

Nikolai started dialing again — and dropped the phone once more.

Only then did he realize what else was still in his hand.

The bracelets.

Wooden, almost identical — one black, one dark brown. Warm from his palms, carved with fine symbols or letters — impossible to read.

“Find one you won’t miss,” the witch had whispered. “Slip the black one on them. Life for life. Breath for breath. Blood for blood.”

He didn’t know if it was memory or if the witch was whispering to him from afar — but the chill deepened.

He looked at the empty road, the bruised sky above.

Listened to the faint fire in his chest — quiet for now, but near.

Soon. Tomorrow, maybe. Or an hour.

The bracelets felt heavy.

He forced his way through the bushes, crouched beside the girl, felt for her pulse — thin neck, steady beat. She trembled under his fingers, and he pulled back quickly, staring at the bracelets.

His thoughts unraveled into a haze of exhaustion and fear.
Death had been near — and yet somehow, it felt like centuries ago.

“Wrong,” a word floated through the fog.
He shrugged — he’d known it was wrong from the start.

Life for life. Breath for breath.

The girl moaned, still unconscious, her body quivering from the pain that burned her like his own.

Fire for fire.

Nikolai leaned closer and began to put the bracelets on.
The brown one slid easily onto her thin wrist.
He hesitated, staring at her — then at the black band in his own hand — and slipped it onto his wrist.

Nothing happened.

He felt stupid, gave a crooked smile, sighed — and then the fire exploded inside his chest, brighter and fiercer than ever before.
He tried to scream, but breathed only flame.

***

Irinka blinked.
What was she doing in the bushes? She could’ve sworn she’d just been running home through the forest.
She remembered the car — crawling forward, then suddenly leaping — the impact.
She stood up. Her clothes were torn and muddy, but she wasn’t even bruised. Only a reddish mark on her left wrist. She rubbed it — just dirt.
Relieved, she turned — saw the car. And a man.

He was lying face-down. Not breathing.
A phone lay nearby, as if he’d been trying to call for help.

— Oh no… — Irinka whispered, picking it up. She called the ambulance.

***

Nikolai opened his eyes. Everything was white. Someone was moving nearby.
— I… what… — he managed.

— What did you expect? — said a familiar voice.
He wasn’t surprised to recognize the witch.

— Am I dead?

— You fool, — she said gently. — When you give your life, you gain another. But you can’t know that — or the gift would vanish.

Nikolai shook his head. A pleasant ringing filled his ears — like little wind chimes.
And the fire in his chest — gone. Completely.

— Lie there, breathe, — said the witch. — The world rests on simple souls. And simple souls — on their simplicity.

He lifted his head, trying to see her face — but just then the door opened, and a nurse rushed in.

— Shoo! — she shouted, and Nikolai just caught sight of a huge black cat leaping out the window.

 

Pashka V.