K I – K I – M O – R A. How many images from childhood this word keeps in itself? Evil spirits in human form, an ugly old woman with a wart on her nose, a little non-growing girl in a sundress or a long-legged girl running restlessly through the forest, raising a thick fog from the grass.
During the day, she hides in deserted places or in a closet behind the stove, but at night she leaves the shelter and causes trouble for people. She steals small children, scares with her wild howl, throws objects, drops and breaks things, pulls out people’s hair, when they sleep.
Most of all, Kikimora loves spinning and also weaving, knitting, lace and sewing. She prefers to spin at time, when people are not allowed to spin: at midnight, on Fridays, on Christmastide. Everything she touches turns into chaos and will be difficult to finish. She tears, licks and confuses wool, burns the tow, twists the thread not from left to right, but vice versa. So you can not wait for a shirt from her.
But, probably, devil is not so black as he is painted. Nobody knows her real soul, her routine life and thoughts.
Nobody knows. . .
