“Yes they will!” I said。 “None of the children in that city have a mother or a
father。 Hayriye; go downstairs and check the doors again。 We’ll probably be
asleep by the middle of the story。”
“I won’t fall asleep;” said Orhan。
“Where is Black going to sleep tonight?” said Shevket。
“In the workshop;” I said。 “Snuggle up tight to your mother so we can
warm up nicely under the quilt。 Whose icy little feet are these?”
“Mine;” said Shevket。 “Where will Hayriye sleep?”
I’d begun telling the story; and as always; Orhan fell asleep first; after
which I lowered my voice。
“After I fall asleep; you’re not going to leave the bed; right; Mama?” said
Shevket。
“No; I won’t leave。”
I really didn’t intend to leave。 After Shevket fell asleep; I was musing about
how pleasurable it was to fall asleep cuddled up with my sons on the night of
my second wedding—with my handsome; intelligent and desirous husband in
the next room。 I’d dozed off with such thoughts; but my sleep was fitful。 Later;
this is what I remembered about that strange restless realm between dreaming
and wakefulness: First I settled accounts with my deceased father’s angry
spirit; then I fled the specter of that disgraceful murderer who wanted to send
me off to be with my father。 As he pursued me; the unyielding murderer; even
more terrifying than my father’s spirit; began making a clattering ruckus。 In
my dream; he tossed stones at our house。 They struck the windows and landed
on the roof。 Later; he tossed a rock at the door; at one point even trying to
force it open。 Next; when this evil spirit began to wail like some ungodly
animal; my heart began to pound。
I awoke covered in sweat。 Had I heard those sounds in my dream or had I
been awakened by sounds from somewhere in the house? I couldn’t decide;
and so snuggled up with the children; and without moving; I waited。 I’d nearly
assured myself that the noises were only in my sleep when I heard the same
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wail。 Just then; something large landed in the courtyard with a bang。 Was this
also a rock; perhaps?