Download the story: A Fable of Three Sisters, inspired by Fabula de Tres Hermanos by the folk singer Silvio Rodriguez.

There were, once upon a time, three sisters who lived in a village called Miniscule. In spite of its name, all of the inhabitants were of a typical size, that is to say that they were no smaller than those living in the larger place known as Megalopolous. Most people in Miniscule were happy to make their homes in the cluster of neat and colorfully painted houses that made up the village. However, there were those who would rather live in a larger town or who were drawn to Megalopolous for all the exciting things they believe it had to offer.

A thick forest stood between Miniscule and Megalopolous with paths winding through it that required particular attention for the traveler who wanted to avoid getting lost. Those who attempted to travel to Megalopolous often never arrived not only because of the winding paths but also because of the obstacles in their way. Large, deep holes and fallen trees in the path kept many of them from completing their task. Travelers often returned to Miniscule exhausted and frazzled and almost completely unraveled.

Three sisters lived in Miniscule with their papa and mama, rising early to turn out flaky pastry stuffed with cream. All their lives the three sisters talked of traveling to Megalopolous, and all three at times liked to argue and challenge each other. If it weren’t for their mother who insisted they work together, they’d never produce a single pastry that was edible and beautiful to the eye.

One morning, after having grown tired of her daughters’ sniping the night before, their mother said, “In one year, your father and I are retiring from the bakery and turning it over to you. So if you really plan to travel to Megalopolous, you should do it now in the fall because by the time the spring comes around, you will need to be here to take on this responsibility. No pastry can be produced without all three of you.”

“Well, I should be first,” said Ingrid, the slightly oldest. “In fact, I plan to leave tomorrow.” She pulled off her apron and went upstairs to prepare for the journey alone. Her two sisters looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders, and muttered under their breaths, “She’ll never make it there.”

Just after the sun rose, Ingrid dressed in her best walking clothes with her pack on her back. She started the trip at the opening to the trail with both her mama and papa waving her farewell while her two sisters made their way to the bakery to start the day’s pastry.

The first few hours were pleasant for Ingrid as she kept her eyes straight on the horizon, occasionally stopping to marvel at the red, yellow and orange leaves on the trees. She listened to the birds’ song after stopping to drink a little water and to eat some bread and cheese.

Ingrid, determined not to be like the others who lost their way by not paying attention to where she was headed, fixed her eyes on where the path led and the place on the horizon which was her destination. Unfortunately, Ingrid did not see the large hole in her way, until she stepped down into it and turned her ankle. She cried out loudly, but no one could hear her.

Finally, after several hours, and just as night was falling, she wrapped her ankle and limped her way back home.

“Ingrid! Are you hurt?!” When her mama and papa opened the door and saw her, they helped her inside and to a seat. But her two sisters just looked at each other and shook their heads.

“I knew that Ingrid would never make it,” the second sister Chábela said. She finished her supper and left the table to go upstairs to prepare to make her own trip the next day. She didn’t bother to ask Ingrid what happened, especially since Ingrid slept all night on a chair on the first floor, her sore foot elevated on a small footstool.

Just as before, mama and papa bid farewell to Chábela as she went on her way. “Don’t forget to watch where you’re stepping!” her mother cried out.

“I won’t!” she shouted back. Chábela was determined not to make the same mistake her sister made, which she now knew about because her mother told her. Unfortunately, Chábela barely made her way down the path when, within an hour, she walked into a tree branch that knocked her onto the path leaving her with a large lump on her forehead and a momentary inability to remember her name.

Just before nightfall, Chábela came to and after several attempts, found the right direction to go in to return to Miniscule. After knocking on the door of several wrong houses, she finally found her own.

“Chábela! Are you hurt?!” her mama and papa said upon opening the door again.

The youngest daughter, Gertrude, looked at the clock surrounded by tiny wooden birds and bears, and said, “Right on time.” She took one last bite of potato, dabbed the napkin on her mouth, and got up to go upstairs and prepare for what she was sure would be a successful trip.

Mama and papa were somewhat less enthusiastic when they bid farewell to Gertrude, because unlike the other two, Gertrude had a beautiful singing voice but also a tendency to trip on everything she saw and to get lost even within their small village. “Be careful!” her mother added as she watched her youngest daughter walk away.

“I will!!” Gertrude was intelligent enough to create a plan that she knew would be successful and that would resolve the problem that caused each of her sisters to return without succeeding at their goal. Gertrude kept one eye trained on the horizon and any obstacles in her way above the path and the other eye she, with some difficulty, fixed on the path itself to avoid any obstacles in her way. She didn’t realize that trying to look at both things at once would make her dizzy and confused and sick to her stomach. Even though she walked for what seemed like hours, Gertrude kept seeing the same sights over and over again until just before dusk she stopped, adjusted her eyes back to normal, and realized that she was back again in her village.

“Come in, Gertrude,” her mama said loudly at the open door and within a few minutes, Gertrude appeared.

“I don’t feel well, mama and papa.” She dropped down into the same chair that Ingrid slept in two nights before.

That night, the three beds upstairs were filled with three sisters—one with her foot up on pillows, one with her head up on pillows, and the third with a bowl on her lap as she rested on pillows trying not to throw up, even though she so felt like it.

“All right, daughters,” their mama said with papa standing silently just inside the door. “You have two choices. One is to give up on this idea of going to Megalopolous —“

“No!!” all three said even as they all three groaned.

“There is an alternative.”

“What is it?!” all three asked and then groaned.

“Once you’re all well, you all three need to travel together to Megalopolous. One of you can watch the path, the other can watch where you’re going and Gertrude, dear, you can do both, but watch only one at a time and not both together.”

They all three stopped groaning and grudgingly admitted that their mother was right.

Two weeks later, the fall foliage in full display, the girls set off together to journey to Megalopolous, their packs full of water, bread and cheese and several pieces of pastry.

“This time I’m sure they’ll make it,” their mother said, waving as she watched them disappear into the forest.

Papa stroked his moustache as soon as they were gone.“Unless they’re eaten by wolves.” He glanced at mama who at first opened both of her eyes very wide, before she nodded in agreement.