Washing Away Koshchey

I arrive for my appointment feeling and looking like a complete slob, my hair matted, my body sweaty and smeared with muck and mud. Don't ask about the smell. Please, don't.

In an ordinary bathroom tiled in blue and white, I remove my filthy clothes and try to shower away every remainder of my encounter with Koshchey. I let the water run and run, but I don't think I'll ever be rid of him. I turn off the tap when I realize I'm scrubbing the skin on my arms raw.

I had expected more from this place, but I suppose a bath house so near the Abbey isn't going to offer a great deal of luxury. It's only when I reach for the terry robe hanging on the wall that I see a doorway hidden behind it, a door that leads to a small enclosed garden. Completely private, open only to the blue sky, I find a sunken pool of green and white marble with cool water splashing into it from two dolphin spouts. The tang of mint and lemon verbena mixes with the sweet scent of the white roses in bloom against all four walls.

As my body finally begins to relax in the cool, refreshing water, I notice the roses aren't white at all, but delicately shaded in pastel colors of pink, peach, and yellow that I hadn't been able to perceive in my agitated state. Lining the rim of the pool are several exquisite geodes. I lift one and gaze into its heart. Smokey crystal and bits of fluffy moss form a world in the palm of my hand. Breathing deeply, I know that here my mind will begin to mend as my body heals.