Rusalia by Sophia Osadcha

They took Nata away.

I don’t know how I will explain it when I get home. This would sound ridiculous. Was it her fault for believing in those old superstitions?

Will I miss her? Frankly, we didn’t get along. She suddenly appeared at home when we were 13, and our parents had just remarried, took half of my room, and filled it with her mythology books, medications, and nail polishes. We were the same age, but she was a grade ahead at school, so people usually saw her as more mature. Nata was good at being likable. Studying hard, always helping around the house. I know that she was very proud of it. She took great pleasure in understanding that everyone sees her as a perfect ray of sunshine. Even Mom quickly started acting like Nata was her real daughter.

Last night we were strolling through the forest together. We had just walked her university friends to the bus station after hanging out by the river. She had almost finished her first year at university while I was struggling with enrollment. Parents let Nata study Ukrainian folklore—she convinced them that she was truly dedicated. At the same time, they insisted that I should choose a more promising degree. I was eager to go back to our summer house as soon as possible; my legs were covered in mosquito bites, and I was quite upset after feeling absolutely invisible for a few hours. But Nata wanted to stay out longer. She said she was worried sick because of her exams. She didn’t even eat anything at the picnic. But I knew she just loved walking around through the wilderness, imagining that mystical world she was so captivated with. She seemed like a natural part of it now with her flowy white dress and unruly brown curls. She was almost glowing in the moonlight.

– By the way, Vira, did you know it’s Rusalka week now? People believed that rusalkas were walking around the earth freely during this time.

I knew. You don’t need to study in university to hear about such common beliefs. But Nata loved looking smart on my behalf.

– I think it’s really romantic, being so close with nature – she continued, – I would gladly live in those times.

– You would die if you lived in the 19th century with your diabetes, – I chuckled, and Nata took offense, staying silent for the rest of the way.

I noticed how truly quiet the forest was. Usually, you would hear the birds and crickets, and leaves rustling. That felt eerie. I took a look at Nata. She seemed either sleepy or very tired.

– I feel dizzy. Do you still have that chocolate bar?I was about to respond when both of us heard giggling and fast but lightweight footsteps. I could not indicate the direction of the sound; it seemed to be everywhere around us. Nata grabbed her head and sat on a log. I looked around nervously when I saw them. Slim, pale figures glimmering in the moonlight, resembling young girls, playfully run around, barely touching the earth.

– Do you see them? – I whispered, crouching down behind the log.

– Vira, I’m scared; call someone, – Nata was trembling. But I could only watch. I remembered a line from an old poem: “Mother gave birth to me and laid me down unbaptized.” Or were they the ones who kept repeating it?

– Here you are, dear! – A peculiar voice made me freeze. A girl was standing right behind us. She looked almost normal, as if she could be my classmate. She even slightly resembled me. But something was off with her long and bony fingers, sickly glowing eyes and white, nearly greenish complexion. 

– Come play with us! – She stretched out her hands. – Sisters, sisters! Look!

I barely managed to spring back, tripping over the tree roots. The myriads of thin, pale hands grabbed Nata, who was on the verge of losing consciousness, muttering to me, asking to call someone, call parents. But what could I do against these beings?

My vision got blurry. I felt feverish. I remember running through the woods like a lunatic, terrified to look back. They took her. What could I do? When I was almost home, I found a chocolate bar in my pocket and threw it away. Why? I will tell my parents that we split up and got lost. They won’t believe me anyway.