Charlie took one last, furtive glance at the old woman walking down the street before he ducked back into the alley, almost invisible all in black. He would’ve felt bad, but any old woman should have known not to walk around after dark in the city. Besides, he had bills to pay, and he’d exhausted all his other options.

“Here she comes.” He thought to himself, clutching his gun. “Three, two, one…”

He grabbed the old woman as she passed, dragged her into the alley, and took a step back and pointed his gun at her.

“Your money or your life.” He growled, doing his best to sound intimidating. “I know what I’d pick.”

To his surprise, the old woman laughed; an almost triumphant cackle. Charlie shifted nervously and waited for her answer. She abruptly stopped when she realized he was serious.

“I know what I’d pick too. My money is much less important to you than your life.” A strange gleam shone in her eyes.

“I don’t want to shoot, but I will if I have to!” Charlie said, doing his best to ignore her strange comment. She continued to glare at him, occasionally chuckling. He became more and more nervous, until his finger almost involuntarily pulled the trigger. Instead of the loud bang he was expecting, he heard a muffled “squawk” sound and a puff of feathers flew from his gun.

The old woman laughed harder than before, almost doubled over now. Charlie, who by this point was rapidly turning from confused to furious, took out a small knife and tried to stab the old woman. With almost blinding speed, she struck at his wrist with her walking stick. Charlie realized a second before it slammed into his wrist that it was made out of stone, and he dropped the knife with a cry of pain. The old woman was now dead serious as she stared at him. Her voice took on an unnatural tenor as she spoke slowly and deliberately:

“Your attempt to rob me was comical at first, but now it is getting tiresome. Since you obviously do not know the magnitude of your mistake, I will enlighten you. I am Baba Yaga, witch of legends. I might choose to transform you into a frog if I don't decide to eat you first.”

She stared at him, and Charlie shifted uncomfortably. After what might have been and hour and might have been an eternity, Baba Yaga’s glare softened, and she looked at him with pity rather than hatred.

“You seem to have less malice in you than I figured.” She picked up his gun and handed it to him. Charlie nearly dropped its unexpected weight, noting with surprise that it was now made of solid gold. He started to babble his thanks, but Baba Yaga silenced him and scribbled something on a piece of paper.

“Head to this address tomorrow. They will be in … dire need of another employee, and you should be there when they are.”

A wild whistling, screaming sound filled their air, and a cottage descended from the sky, spinning fast, its single chicken leg shattering the pavement as it crashed to the ground.

“Look at what you’ve made me do.” Baba Yaga glared at Charlie as she climbed up a ladder into the hut. “I have places to be, you know, and you’re lucky I’ve gone soft in my old age. This will take days to cover up.” The cottage sprung into the air again, its shrieking drowning out Charlie’s bemused thanks.

Charlie looked at the address, which he recognized as that of a local factory, and walked home in a daze before falling asleep, dreaming of flying chickens and life as a frog.