True love would be possible, after all...

"Pigalle"-

Martina hated this word. It reminded her of so many negative emotions. It summarized ten years of prostitution in the streets of Paris. Martina had just turned 30 this Friday. When she looked back at her life, she felt ashamed of herself. She secretely hated herself for what she had done, although she didn t become a prostitute by free will. She had been trapped into the sex business and once she realized it, it was much too late. Her pimp was an evil man who sought retaliation and she had to earn a specific amount every day, otherwise she would be beaten up badly.

However, Martina caressed the hope to escape the body selling business. One day, while Tony, her pimp, was away from Paris, she just run away and asked for help. A social worker took charge of her and recommended her to an association. She luckily found a job as a waitress at the opposite side of Paris and managed to rent a tiny room close to her job. Martina was still beautiful, but there was so much sadness into her eyes. She had given up the hope to meet true love in her life. She was afraid of men. She hated the way many of them considered so called " normal women". She had the impression that men hunted their sexual objects and once they obtained them, they threw them away like unuseful dolls- at least, that was her truth. On her day off, she decided to sit at a terrace and have a little expresso. The terrace was overcrowded. There were just two places left and she occupied one. When she expected it least, a young American man in his early thirties asked her if he could sit next to her.

Martina accepted. Tom was a handsome man and his eyes looked like clear water. He engaged a conversation with her and took her number. Martina decided to see him again, because he looked so different from all the men she had known before. He treated her with respect and listened to her. After a while, Tom asked her for a date. Martina accepted, but she denied him physical love. After a few weeks, and as Martina still seemed to have huge blocks as he wished intensely they could make love, he invited his girlfriend for a coffee.
 "Martina, I don t understand why you seem to deny me your love...I have immense feelings for you, I truly love you...did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?! " No, you didn t, Tom. It is coming from me. Listen, I will understand if you leave me after I reveal you a dirty secret of mine from the past. I have been a whore in the streets of Paris, for ten years. I escaped by miracle. Since then, I am having difficulties with men and the topic "physical love".I still envision making love as dirty. When I was forced into sexual relationships with old, ugly and stinking men, I used to spend at least one hour under the shower. The water had the power to clean my body, but not my soul.

 My soul is dirty and I am so much ashamed. It is difficult for me to trust you, although I do love you. But if you want to leave me, it is all right, Tom, I will survive." Tom was moved by Martinas raw honesty. He held her hand tenderly and told her: "My sweetheart, we will make love when you will be ready. We have the eternity in front of us. I ll wait." Martinas eyes were full of tears. Six months later, the couple got married.True love found a way.

 Copyright© by Isabelle Esling

Christmas Eve s beggar

Nicole was a very pretty woman. She had just turned 26. She was happily married and had two adorable twins, Penny and Lenny. Her life could have been perfect. It used to be so until she got her blood exam results. Her doctor had detected some rare disease and she had only three months to live. When she heard the news, she reacted with anger and despair. Terry, her husband, did the best he could to help her, but Nicole was retiring more and more, she simply refused any dialogue-and began to be absent from her children s life as well. She descended the long road of depression and she was on the highway to hell. What had even made her angrier is that her doctor suggested she went to church, in order to speak with a priest. A priest! How could a priest help her now-they never helped her in the past. To her, priests were out of reality and they had no experience of what death was.

 She was terrified at the thought of her upcoming death. Of course, like all human beings, she knew she was going to die someday, but she pictured it at a very old age, like 90. She spent hours crying, then she calmed down. Christmas was approaching, but she wasn t really keen on celebrating anything. She felt empty and useless. She looked down the window. Snow was falling down. She opened the window in order to breathe some fresh air. It was Christmas Eve and around five. Terry was preparing the tree with the kids. He was feeling sad too, but he had no idea about how to soothe Nicoles pain. As Nicole went downstairs, he gave her a smile. " Terry, I need to get out for one hour or so...I will be back, but I really need to get out..." " Nicole, darling, please take your break...stay safe, darling!" "Ok see you all soon..."

Nicole entered her car. She drove around 10 kilometers with no precise goal. She landed in a little village, in front of a little church. She got out of her car. Something caught her eye, she had no idea why she had to stop, but she simply did. In front of the church, a beggar was sitting. He seemed to be cold and had a blanket around him. He asked Nicole if she could give him a coin. Nicole didn t like beggars. She always thought that people are in charge of themselves and usually she ignored their request. But this evening was Christmas Eve and the beggar didn t look dirty at all, nor did he smell alcohol. She thought to herself. " Does it really matter? I m gonna die soon anyway...I could do something nice between now and my last hour." She opened her purse and gave the beggar a five dollar note. "

Thank you so much, dear lady. I have a request for you.", the beggar smiled at Nicole " oh no, he s gonna ask me for a cheque now! How stupid could I be?", she thought to herself " What do you want from me, Sir?", she asked in a quite angry tone "I d like to ask you for a favor. Allow me please to enter with you in this church. I ll buy a candle and I will pray for you." " Strange request, Sir, but after all it is Christmas Eve, so why not, let s get in..."

 The beggar dropped several coins, paid for the candle and sat next to Nicole. He put his hand on her shoulder and said: " Nicole, everything is going to be allright, just close your eyes and concentrate on divine light...just visualise the divine inside of you." "Allright, she said...", nearly entering into a deep trance as the stranger started praying. After 10 minutes, she opened her eyes. It looked like time had slowed down, all of a sudden. The dark church was so full of light and she and the beggar were immersed into it. She noticed that the beggar s face looked so full of love and light. She closed her eyes again. She was burning inside. Her skin was quite painful, and then she felt at peace. She opened her eyes...she looked for the beggar, but she was all alone...she ran out of the church in order to find him and to thank him, but he was gone...it looked like there had never been such a man around...she asked a few church goers, nobody had seen this mysterious stranger. Nicole drove home. As she entered her house, she realized that this stranger had called her Nicole.

"How would he know my name?", she spoke loudly. Two days after Christmas, a blue envelope adressed to her arrived in her mailbox. The stamp wasn t very visible. She didn t know where this letter came from. She opened it and read carefully: " Dear Nicole, You are healed. Our deeds do only matter when we put our heart into them. Don t look for me in the outside world. I reside inside of you, and yes, I know you by your name." There was no signature. Just some beautiful handwriting and she could read love between the lines. She read it over and over again. Her eyes were full of tears. She felt purified in her body and mind. Nicole received confirmation, a few days later that she was completely cured from her disease.

 Copyright© by Isabelle Esling