Ramadan Arabian Nights 2025 : The Tale of Fatima, Halima and Karima “ Half Apple , Half Peach ” EP.14

Ramadan Kareem

Tonight, we will know not only where Karima had really gone and from where she brought those strange apples.

There is no chitchat tonight due to the length of the episode.

So without further delay, here is the 686th episode of our Arabian Nights Egyptian radio show—or the 14th night in this year’s tale, The Tale of Fatima, Halima, and Karima.

Episode 14: Half Apple, Half Peach

King Shahryar took his seat as he had the night before, and Scheherazade arrived at her appointed hour. She stepped forward and withdrew, greeted him with a bow, and, when granted leave, began from where she had left off:

It has been told, O wise and just King, that when Fatima returned home without the oil, Rima was seized with fury. She cast upon her niece the weight of her doubts, riddled her with accusations, and hurled words of ill-temper. But Karima, standing between them, said:

"We have no need for oil tonight to light the house, for the moon is full, its glow complete, and I shall spin by its light upon the rooftop."

And Halima, her sister, added, "We have no need for lamps nor even the moon. We shall sleep now and wake at dawn’s first light."

Then Rima retired to her chamber, Halima lay down to sleep, and Karima ascended to the rooftop.

And when the morning came, spreading its light across the land, the two sisters looked about them but found no sign of Karima. Fear clutched at their hearts, and Fatima rushed up to the rooftop, searching high and low, yet she found no trace of her.

At this, Rima was seized by panic, lashing out like a raging beast or a storm-tossed sea. She scorned the innocent girls with cutting words and berated them without end—until they heard a knock upon the door.

They rushed to open it, and lo! It was Karima, standing before them with apples in her hands. At once, all eyes turned to her, and voices clamored for answers.

Rima: "Where have you been? And why have you returned so late?"

Karima: "Hush, Aunt! Let me catch my breath."

Rima: "Me hush? You vanish for a night and return as if nothing happened?"

Fatima: "Karima, where were you?"

Karima: "You wouldn’t believe me if I told you."

Rima: "Listen to her! Speaking as if she did no wrong!"

Karima: "Wrong? What wrong have I done, Aunt? You saw me go up to spin, but you never saw me come down. And yet here I stand! Are you not curious where I have been? And these apples in my hands—do you not wonder where they came from?"

Fatima (in wonder): "Where indeed?"

Rima (mockingly): "Ah yes, you climbed to the rooftop to bask in the moonlight! And did you find the moon, my girl? Did you?"

Karima: "Aunt, what is it you are trying to say? Why do you look at me so?"

Rima: "Don’t you see? Don’t you all see? Ask her! Ask her where she was!"

Karima (whispering): "I was with… Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim!" (seeking refuge in God's name, avoiding mention of the unseen beings)

Rima (echoing in disbelief): "Did you hear her?!"

Halima: "But truly, where were you?"

Karima (firmly): "I told you. I was with… Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim."

At this, Rima struck her hands together and wailed, "Since the master of this house passed away, the girls have grown wild!"

Karima, tears brimming in her eyes, pleaded, "Aunt, why do you wound me so?"

Rima: "Then prove me wrong! Tell me the truth!"

Halima (softly): "I believe you, Karima."

Rima: "And what of these apples? Where did you get them?"

Karima extended her hands, showing them the strange fruit. "See for yourself, Aunt. Do you not notice something strange?"

Rima took an apple and turned it in her hands, then gasped. "By the heavens! Half of this apple is an apple… and the other half is a peach!"

Halima (marveling): "A single fruit, yet split between two natures… Glory be to the Almighty!"

Rima: "Now tell us, Karima! Where did you go, and how did you come by this fruit?"

Fatima (gently): "Aunt Rima, this fruit proves Karima speaks the truth."

Karima (earnestly): "I have not lied to you, Halima."

Halima: "Then tell us everything—from the moment you took your spindle and climbed to the rooftop."

Karima (hesitating): "I will… but only if Aunt Rima lets me speak without interruption."

Rima: "Speak, then! But don’t take all day, girl!"

Halima (smiling): "Yes, Karima, tell us."

And Karima took a deep breath and said:

"Everything that happened… it was all because of Fatima!"

Fatima (startled): "What?!"

Karima sighed and turned to her sisters, saying:

"When you, Fatima, returned without bringing the oil to light the lantern and brighten our house, and I saw how upset Aunt Rima was, I wanted to ease the tension between you two. So I said to myself, ‘I love staying up at night, so I shall go to the rooftop and spin my thread by the moonlight.’"

And so Karima took her spindle and wool, climbed up to the rooftop, and settled near the edge of the wall.

As she sat there spinning, her mind drifted, and her thoughts wandered back to the events of the night before. She recalled how, as she worked, her spindle had slipped from her hands and tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the abandoned ruins behind their house—an empty place where no soul lived.

"Oh no! The spindle has fallen!" Karima gasped. "But the wall isn’t too high. If I climb down carefully, nothing bad will happen. I’ll just go down, retrieve it, and climb back up as if nothing happened."

Determined, she lowered herself over the edge, holding onto the rough stones of the wall. Inch by inch, she made her way down until her feet touched the ground. There, among the scattered debris, lay her spindle.

"Well, that was easy enough!" she thought, brushing off the dust. "Now, I’ll just climb back up and return to my spinning."

But just as she was about to grasp the stones and hoist herself up, a sound froze her in place—a laugh, light and echoing in the silence of the abandoned ruins.

"What was that?" Karima whispered, her heart pounding. "Did I just imagine it? Who would be laughing in a place like this, at this hour?"

She shook her head, forcing herself to ignore it. "I must be imagining things. The ruins are empty. There's no one here. I should just climb back up."

But then—the laughter came again. This time, it was clearer, closer.

"No… I’m not imagining it!" she realized. "Someone is here! But who? And why would anyone be laughing in such a desolate place?"

Her curiosity stirred. Instead of fleeing, she crouched and listened, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. And then, like a whisper from fate, she remembered her sister’s words—the night they had spoken of the dervish who told fortunes.

"Your destiny, Karima, will come from behind the walls."

Her breath caught. "Could this be it? Could this be the wall my sister spoke of? Is fate finally coming to claim me?"

She turned towards the source of the laughter, her eyes widening in the dim moonlight.

Behind the crumbling walls of the ruins, where no living soul had stepped for over a hundred years, lay a hidden garden—lush, green, and untouched by time. And from within it, voices drifted, light and joyful, as if belonging to another world.

"A garden…?" Karima murmured, stunned. "A hidden garden… inside the ruins?"

She crept closer, pressing herself against the wall, straining to hear. And as she did, it felt as if she was no longer just listening—she was there, among them.

And from her hiding place in the garden, Fatima watched as two figures—a man and a woman—sat together as if on a lovers' picnic. Before them was a feast of the finest foods and drinks, spread out in abundance.

The woman, smiling sweetly, reached out and fed the man with her own hands.

Sultana: "Eat some more, my lord, my Sultan."

Sultan: "Ah, I was truly famished, so I ate from this and from that."

Sultana: "Then have this piece as well."

Sultan: "Ah, no, no! Enough—I am full now, my dearest. But why haven’t you eaten, O Sultana?"

Sultana: "When I see you, my lord, I am sated."

The Sultan sighed, resting his head back. "Never have I seen devotion like yours," he murmured.

She laughed gently. "Then take this piece from my hand—let me feed you, my love."

"For your sake, my beloved," he relented, taking the morsel from her fingers.

But as their feast came to an end, the Sultan stretched and said, "Enough now—take away the trays, and bring me a basin of water before I sleep."

Sultana: "As you wish, my lord, I shall fetch it at once."

Sultan: "Do not keep me waiting."

The Sultana rose, but as she turned away, a shadow crossed her face, and a thought whispered in her mind. "Shall I sprinkle just a pinch of this powder into his water?"

What she did not know was that Karima had seen everything. And now, from her hidden spot, Karima’s eyes widened as she muttered to herself, "What is she putting in his water?"

Sultan: "The water, O Sultana."

Sultana: "Here, my lord, here it is."

Karima, watching closely, whispered, "Why is she doing this? Let me peek from behind this bush and see what happens next."

Sultana: "Here is your water, my lord."

The Sultan took the basin and recited a blessing. "In the name of God, may this cure all ailments!" He drank deeply.

The Sultana, smiling sweetly, asked, "Shall I sit beside you, my lord, and keep you company until sleep takes your eyes?"

The Sultan chuckled. "Ah, how kind and gentle you are."

Sultana: "How could I ever forget your kindness, my lord? Once, I was but your servant, yet when my mistress passed, you made me your wife."

Sultan: "I feared you would not find comfort among my children."

Sultana: "They are my masters, my lord. To love them is my duty, for the eye shall never rise above the brow."

The Sultan sighed. "Ah, my Sultana, do you know—ah! Sleep is overtaking me."

Sultana: "Sleep, my love, sleep. My lord, my Sultan—sleep, sleep, sleep…"

But as she whispered her lullaby, a shadow darkened her eyes, and she muttered under her breath, "Were it not for the ghoul, I would have slain you myself. Yet something holds me back—why? I do not understand. But no matter… let me gather this feast and take it to the ghoul. He shall dine upon it instead."

Karima, still hidden, gasped. "What?! She’s taking the food—where is she going?!"

As the Sultana turned, a piece of fruit slipped from her grasp and rolled toward Karima’s hiding place. Karima picked it up, marveling at its shape. "By heavens! I have never seen such a fruit before—half an apple, half a peach! Such a thing exists only in dreams!"

She turned back to see the Sultana vanishing into the night. "Where is she taking this food?!"

Without hesitation, Karima followed, treading carefully behind her. As they neared a rocky outcrop, Karima saw the Sultana halt before a great, looming cave.

Sultana: "It is the hour of our meeting. Bahloul, open the door! Open, O fairest of ghouls! Open, O Bahloul!"

And from deep within the cavern, a voice rumbled—low, deep, and terrible.

Ghoul Bahloul: "Ah… the door is open!"

And as the cave yawned wide, the Sultana stepped inside, bearing her gifts of food and drink. The ghoul loomed over her, his eyes gleaming as he asked:

Ghoul Bahloul: "Where is the Sultan?"

And just as the tale was reaching its peak…

Scheherazade realized the dawn had come, and she fell silent, leaving the tale untold.

Here is the 14th episode of our tale televised

Till next night inshallah

You can check previous Ramadan Arabian Nights here.

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