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Liza Bernstein's avatar

(My 50 words)

Seven branches zoomed from the arch above her head, wrapping themselves around her as leaves of tender green grew at the speed of a time lapse, adding their caresses to the hug. She giggled, the house shaking with her. Together, like a choir, they sighed “it’s good to be home.”

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The Man Behind the Screen's avatar

(No one knew what came first; the tree or the house. And no one had ever seen anyone living there until early one morning when smoke could be seen coming from a chimney.

A little girl, no older than seven, walked out the front door and sat on the steps.)

No witch. Sighing, she muttered the rhyme.

"Baba Yaga, Baba Yaga,

In your chicken footed house,

Baba Yaga, Baba Yaga,

Rooted down on greenland ground.

Baba Yaga, Baba Yaga,

Listen to my plea this day,

Baba Yaga, Baba Yaga,

Make those nasty children pay!"

Then the door creaked open again.

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