The Old Woman Who Didn't Remember Where Her Grave Was

For the burial of Yavdokha the witch I was paid twice, and the second payment I took while she was scratching at the coffin from the inside. I threw on more earth and went off home. And now, twenty-seven years later, she stood before me. - Walk me home, Hnat. In her hand she held a shard of stone I had knocked off our threshold that morning, dropping the anvil I was carrying from the barn. I blocked her way. The old woman walked around me and headed for my house.

At home was my wife Uliana, who to this day had no notion of what I had been paid for back then. My wife came out with the oil lamp. - Who have you brought here against the night? The old woman pressed the shard to the threshold. The edges met. Yavdokha's cheek split open down to her chin, baring black gums. Uliana cried out and recoiled into the entry hall, nearly dropping the lamp. - Hnat, drive her off! What are you standing there for?!

She grabbed me by the sleeve and pulled me toward her. While she was still alive, Yavdokha had ordered herself a gravestone and asked to be laid under the linden, beside the daughter buried there because they hadn't managed to baptize her. Her sons declared their mother a witch when she wouldn't let them divide the garden plot. The village believed it - how could it not, when that spring the cattle died in three households.

The younger son, Dmytro, paid me both for a burial in the ravine and for my silence. The stone I took for myself. Uliana was so glad back then that the threshold would sag no more. Yavdokha seized my elbow as Uliana pulled me into the entry hall. - I'll take your stone to your grave! Let go! The old woman unclenched her fingers. I had always lied to Uliana that Yavdokha lay beside her family.

I brought a crowbar, pried up the stone and rolled it onto its side. On the underside was her name. We hauled it out and slid it down a plank onto the cart, spread with homespun cloth. Yavdokha stood right up close, and Uliana jerked her hands back whenever the old woman stirred. We loaded a spade and a rope. Uliana wrapped the shard in a kerchief.

I pulled the cart toward the grave of Yavdokha's elder son. My wife held onto my sleeve. The old woman walked on the other side. By the son's grave I pointed at the ground: - Here you are, home. The earth gave way under both my feet. I grabbed at the cross, but it tilted along with me. From below something clasped my boots and yanked - my chin struck the edge of the pit. Uliana pulled at my collar, my shirt ripping. By my face a hand crawled out from under the earth.

A scrap of sleeve still hung on the bones. The fingers groped for my mouth. - She's in the ravine! - I bit down on those bones and spat out earth. - For Dmytro's money! Uliana, pull! The hand unclenched. I wrenched one foot free without its boot, braced the other against the cross. My wife dragged me out by the shoulders. On the torn trouser leg red was spreading around a wound. Yavdokha stood apart and seemed to be staring with the place where her eyes had once been.

Uliana took the spade from the cart and handed it to me handle first. - Get up! You'll show us where she is. I limped to the ravine, bare foot on the stubble. Uliana set the lamp on the cart. I dug with both hands while the old woman sat on the ground across from me. Remnants of rope still hung at her elbows. I remembered tying it.

Of the coffin only darkened boards remained. I lifted one, brushed it off and froze. On the inner side, where the face should have been, the wood was furrowed with narrow grooves. Uliana took the lamp and crouched down. A human fingernail was stuck in a splinter. - You told me she was dead. I stared at that fingernail, remembering how I filled in the coffin while she was still begging for water. Dmytro stood beside me, saying that witches talk even when they're dead.

Then he gave me more money. I stopped throwing earth so I could listen. I heard her scratching at the lid. I waited until it went quiet, and filled the pit to the brim. All this I told Uliana. She burst into tears and stepped back with the lamp. - Wrap her up! We'll go to Dmytro together. In Dmytro's yard Uliana hammered at the door with the spade. The neighbors began coming out at the racket. I stood by the cart with the stone and Yavdokha's bones wrapped in the cloth.

In front of everyone I told what I had taken the money for. Dmytro burst outside, saw his mother and backed into the entry hall. - Get her out of here! You hear me? Get her out! He shut the door. Uliana wouldn't let the neighbors scatter, asked them to bring more light and to help with the cart. The linden stood behind his barn. Dmytro came out through the back door and blocked it with his body. - She'll not lie in my land!

Two neighbors shoved him aside, a third struck him in the belly. Under the linden the small stone over the daughter's grave had survived. I began to dig beside it. The men took the spade in turns, because within a few minutes I could no longer put my foot on the blade. Dmytro stood behind the fence, his sheepskin coat wrapped tight around him. From there he could see the pit.

When we lowered the bundle into the pit, Dmytro vaulted the fence. He pulled a hatchet from under his coat and swung it at the bones. Yavdokha caught his arm. Something cracked, the hatchet fell, and he went headfirst into the pit. The old woman climbed down after him and pressed her son's nape into the earth. He kicked, trying to turn over. Clay crumbled onto his face. The neighbors recoiled from the sight. Yavdokha raised her eye sockets to me. - Fill it in!

For a moment I took hold of the handle. Dmytro wheezed. I dropped the spade and jumped down to them. The old woman clamped onto my wrist. Her nails went in under the skin, but with my free hand I lifted Dmytro's head. - The rope! From the cart! Uliana leapt down to us and tied it under his arms while Yavdokha mangled my hand. The neighbors hauled Dmytro out. Then she threw the rope over me.

Yavdokha held my arm to the very last. When they tore me out of the pit, a scrap of my skin stayed in her nails. They caught Uliana up and pulled her out after me. Dmytro lay on his side, coughing up earth. Yavdokha climbed out after us and sat down by her daughter's stone. She had no eyes, but I saw bitter sorrow on her face. The men filled the grave and laid the stone with the name facing up. Uliana fitted the shard against it. The cut on Yavdokha's cheek closed.

The old woman lay down on the fresh mound, her face toward the little grave, and began to sink into the earth. First her shoulder disappeared. Then her cheek. Then all her bones. Yavdokha received her peace.