That night was stormy, and the three small girls in their captivity—tree branches clapping and the wind whistling—did not feel cold, for the room was warm and the floor was soft woolen. The mother, who liked to recount her grandmother’s stories on such a night, said: Once upon a time in ancient times. The eldest interrupted her: We know the story. There were three girls who secluded themselves until they ate. The mother returned, sighing: No, this is not the story. The middle one said: Three girls work in the Sultan’s palace, and the small one’s name is Love of the Romans. The mother laughed and said: Rather, the middle one whose name is Love of the Romans is the one who deliberately and intentionally threw the thimble into the water.
The youngest completed that because she is lazy, does not love the needle and thread, and plays with the neighbors’ children. The eldest asked: And what is the name of the first daughter then? She said: Amr is the Moon of the Age, and the third one’s name is Nissan. While the mother was placing covers over the girls, they shouted: We are protesting. We want a dream. We want a story. The mother said: Well, well. Let each of you ask for a dream, and I will place it under her pillow before I leave. The eldest said: You give us, mother. You always give us bigger than our dreams. She said: Amr, give me a beautiful foal. Completely white. You grow and he grows with you, and you become a knight.
The eldest whispered to her sisters: And how will I deal with the small horse? How will I care for his food and drink, his sleep and wakefulness, his running and playing? No, no, I don’t want that. Why don’t you give me, mother, a white car? I start its engine in a moment, and it carries me wherever I want. The mother said to the middle one: And I give you five beautiful white rabbits, those in the garden. You play with them like cats and entertain yourself with their sight. The middle one whispered to her sisters: Why don’t you give me the fur of these rabbits so I can make a hat and gloves, as you made a coat?
The eldest said to her laughing: The three tailors will help you with that. The middle one completed: No, rather they are two, because the small one they punished, so they chased her from work and brought her down to the kitchen to peel garlic and onions. The small one said: Mama, as for me, I want a colorful butterfly, its wings blue and pink. No, no, rather yellow and violet, moving among flowers with gentleness and joy, spreading dreams and folding them. Before she finished her words, she had fallen asleep. At dawn, the storm intensified more and more. It smashed windows and doors, uprooted cabinets and broke mirrors, scattered clothes, and flew everything. Everyone woke up frightened and terrified. The mother stood with her three daughters, perplexed. There was no house to shelter them, no car to ride, and they were shivering from the cold.
A small horse neighed from afar, as if he was announcing himself: This is my horse. How fortunate I thought the dream would not come true. The middle one said, extending her cold hands to the rabbit cage, saying: How beautiful they are, how soft they are. Their number is more than five. As for the small one, she looked around and there was not a single butterfly after the storm, for it had swept them all away. She said: But I am always with my dream. My butterfly here in my heart. No, no, here in my head. Her eyes teared as she saw butterfly wings flying in the air, and she kept repeating: My butterfly, how beautiful she is, my butterfly…