Her Story.

She was at the party, watching him play a very peculiar musical instrument that looked like a string instrument and a flute combined. His presence was magnetic.  She felt drawn to him.  He was indeed a very skilfull musician and well known for his wealth and connections in the city but there was more.  She was drawn to something else, perhaps it was because he reminded her of her father that left the family when she was 4.

He noticed her, she stood out of the crowd and in that moment he despised her with all that was within him. Deep down he knew who he truly was, and it was not who people thought he was. She revealed to him everything he was not.  She was young, vibrant and beautiful, but most of all innocent and pure.  She was the focus of everyone’s delight.


The pain was unbearable and well known to him.  He tried to hide behind so many masks and he did it very effectively, no one knew who he truly was apart from the ones whose lives he destroyed.


Once again, he decided to destroy everything about that young girl that made her the focus of everyone’s delight.

He pursued her relentlessly, deceiving her and used her pain to manipulate her. At first, he became the father she never had but so longed for and once he had her trust, with unstoppable force, he began brutally destroying her soul and her body with no remorse.  Many days, weeks, months passed…


By the time I met her she was in the most horrifying brothel. Her lean, barely covered body was on display for clients. For a moment I stood there looking at her, hoping to make eye contact, but she was somewhere far away, perhaps disassociated and safely in her world full of colours. I stood there, looking at her.


Then something changed. I felt fear filling up the room with force not known to me before. All the girls’ eyes were fixated on the door, they somehow knew something horrible was about to happen. I was still trying to make eye contact with her when she woke up from her daydream, the look in her eyes said it all. It was him.


All the girls in the brothel feared him, he was the owner and he was brutal. By the time he had finished with a girl she was unrecognizable.  Today it was her again he came for, everyone in the brothel knew that, she knew that, and somehow even I knew it.


She tried to move but could not, she was paralyzed with fear and so was I. I had to do something, I knew this was my last chance to save her. For a moment I came out of my coma of fear and somehow managed to run towards her. I lifted her motionless body in my arms and started running with all that I had within me.


I was running through the brothel, the state of which horrified me with every step I took.  It was like an unending labyrinth, the ceiling was so low I had to bend to move through the rooms.


White paint was chipping off the walls, there were mattresses on the floors with dirty sheets stained with blood, the dirt and filth were everywhere, I could feel it in my bones.

I relentlessly tried to find an escape. He could not see us but he knew my every step. I could feel his presence right behind me, he was following us.  It was a game for him but for me, it was life or death. I was shaking, breathing rapidly, but still somehow running with her in my arms. I would not go down without a fight. I saw an opening that looked like a window but without any evidence of a window frame. I looked down and it was too high to jump with her in my arms. I screamed for help, but people were too afraid of him to help us, everyone somehow knew what was going on. I pleaded for help, he was getting closer. A lady extended her hand and for a moment held her nearly lifeless body so I could climb down. Once on the ground, I attempted to run but no matter how hard I tried to run I was not moving. People were looking at us in fear, too scared to help us. I was pleading; “please someone just give me a hand, give me a start, I can do the rest, just a little push, I can’t move.”  A little boy about 5 years old ran to me, looked at me and smiled, he grabbed my hand and I could run again.


The man was still right behind us, his evil presence sent chills up my spine.


I kept running until I came to a huge grassy field. I distinctly remember the lush green grass. Paddocks were separated by a metal wire fence that I would not be able to climb through with her in my arms.


Somehow my spirit went into her body and we became one. Now she and I are one, I could see her but also feel her, I was her.

She gained some strength and started running. She climbed through the fence, lifting tight wires apart with all she had.


Each paddock had different creatures, they were big and nothing like she had ever seen before.  They looked like a mix with dinosaur and a kangaroo, probably genetically created in a lab.


She climbed through one fence and at first, the weird looking animals scattered in fear, but then, all of a sudden, they started attacking her, biting her with their sharp teeth. I could feel the pain. She was too tired to fight, too tired to run, she would much rather die from their bites then be captured by the man again.


Then she felt a blanket covering her. It was one of the creatures who came to her rescue, the creature hid her in her belly pouch.


I could see and feel everything. For a moment I couldn’t breathe and I slightly lifted the creature’s skin to let some air in. I felt safe, nothing could get me now, nothing bad would happen to her.  She is safe. The creature is fierce and powerful and would not let anything happen to her.  No one would even attempt to steal her.


Then, I woke up in a cold sweat. My room was dark and cold, I was shivering, my breathing was rapid. I lay there. This wasn’t just a dream, I felt it all, I experienced it all. My body was in pain and so was my heart.


The dream did not end here.  There is more.  The girl lived.

Each character in this dream represents someone.  The girl –  she is your daughter, your son.


The creature who saved her is you. Representing all the mothers and fathers – fierce, powerful and prepared to do whatever it takes to save their child.


The man and all the people who were too fearful to help are also sons and daughters with broken identity. People not knowing who they really are…yet.

marina kurban

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