Dreams

The red dress is sentimental for Angie as it is a gift from no less than the designer himself, Chanel, whom she met when she was in Milan. Chanel recognized her skill and even bought one of the fabrics she designed herself. The famous designer mentioned that the fabric will be used in their next season's fashion week. Unfortunately for Angie, she did not get to see it on the runway because of the accident that cost her eyes. But, she would replay the video time and again to remind her of how capable she was. After wearing them, she set them back on the mannequin in her walk-in closet as the dress is too precious to be worn on a regular stroll in Quebec.

The house was filled with the smell of roasted chicken in the oven, luring her to go downstairs and feast in. "Are we having visitors tonight, mom?" Walking into the ceramic tiled kitchen where her mom concocted superb meals that were to die for.

"Nope. We are celebrating for your comeback, my dear," she turned around, holding the chicken with both hands setting them on the counter. "Can you grab some wine in the cellar for us, dear?"

"Of course, mom." Angie walked towards the basement. It was converted to a man cave where her dad placed most of his stuff, including the wine cellar. For some reason, the basement was colder than usual. As she turned on the light, crisp air passed by sending tiny hairs at the back of the nape of her neck and arms to stand up. It was cold and tranquil that it almost felt like someone was breathing next to her. Her pace became quicker as she snatched the nearest red wine in the cellar and dashed back to the first floor.

Mrs. Fernandez was busy carving the chicken when she got back. Angie was panting, clasping her chest with her right hand and the wine on the left. "You're here," her mom spoke but did not shut a single glance at her. "Can you bring the vegetables and gravy to the table, please?"

"Yes, mom," she replied almost instantly. Angie didn't want her mom to catch her red-handed with such a pale and horrible face.

"Mom, do you know any spirit questor or someone who talks to dead people by any chance?" her back against Mrs. Hernandez to hide her own pale face.

"Huh? What do you mean?" her mom stopped what she was doing, looking at her with an intriguing eye.

"You know... someone who can communicate with spirits. I know you are very religious, but I am just wondering if you know anyone," Angie shrugged.

"Well, to be honest, I do. I am religious, but being superstitious is ingrained in my blood. So I still have my horoscopes and lucky charms stashed somewhere. "

"Why do you ask?" Mrs. Hernandez stood next to her daughter and looked at her daughter's eyes.

"Well, it's just that a friend of mine is asking for help. She said she often sees ghosts of a girl she does not know and has been bugging her for a while now. She has been looking for someone who can help her talk to the ghost to find out what they want from her."

"I actually do. Let me check that one out after our dinner."

"But mom, don't tell dad," whispering in her ear as Mr. Hernandez stepped into the dining room.

"Oh! You can count me on that Cause your dad will be furious when he finds out that I still have all those connections." She winked. Her father sat in the middle of the dining table, watching the mother-and-daughter tandem who were giggling. He has been used to their antics that he doesn't bother asking them anymore. They sat over a sumptuous dinner full of laughter.

Kriing. "Hello," Angie responded.

"Hey Angie," Lindsey replied on the other end of the line. "I just came back from Milan, and I heard that you already dropped by the office."

"Yeah. That's right."

"Great! I will see you on Monday then."

"Hey, Lindsey, are you free this Sunday?"

"This Sunday? No, I don't think so. Why?"

"I need someone to accompany me somewhere."

"Where?"

"I will send you the address later. It would be a great time to catch up, as well."

"Okay. Will see you then." Lindsey hung up as Angie smiled. She couldn't be grateful enough for her as she was the only one who remained when others have left her after her downfall. When Lindsey heard that she was returning back to work, she did not even think twice about offering a designer post to her. Despite knowing that her image in the industry has been tainted, Lindsey continued to support and believe in her. Fashion designing was her life and her dream.

As she walked up to her room, her mom pulled her and gave her a note. In her hands, she saw that her mom has written the address of the person she was looking for.

"Be quiet, okay. What will you tell your dad on Sunday then?" her mom asked.

"Lindsey will be picking me up. That should be enough as an excuse."

"Oh! Lindsey. Is..."

"Mama, where are you?"

"It's your dad. Good night my love," her mom gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Good night, mom," hugging her as she led her down the stairs.

She left the room unlit as she crawled in her blanket. She was assured with the warmth of the people around her. Angie knew that she is still blessed with beautiful even if it only boiled down to three people. They are the three people who only matter most to her.

The room was pitch dark, where all you can hear was the ticking clock. The air was dense crippling through small pores in the skin, sending all the tiny hairs to erect. Wind swoosh to the open window whistling in the night. Angie clutched her blanket tightly as the cold wind engulfed her entire body. Somehow the sound of the ticking clock magnified ten folds as she felt someone's breath next to her ear. "Good luck," it whispered.

Gulping through the absurdity of the situation. A voice that was never heard before in a pitch-black room with no one else around. She stood up, looked for the source of the wind pretending to be brave. The curtain flew as it danced with the wind. Her pace became quicker to get to the window to close it. Right below her room, she saw a vague image of a person standing.

The person looked up, and their eyes met. She ran downstairs to where the person was. But he was no longer there. Right at the corner of her eyes, she saw him again turned the corner. She ran after him in the cold-stricken autumn night until she was led to a house, an old house. The house had been abandoned and uncared for as vines crawled up the walls to the roof, windows falling apart, graffiti everywhere, and had a stench of dead animals. From outside, she saw a flickering light through the open door.

Angie worked up her courage to step inside the room, right in the middle, was her red dress burning into ashes. Her eyes widened as she screamed at the top of her voice, 'Nooooooo!" But no words were coming out. The fire spread like wildfire engulfing the house, roof crumbling, and smoke filled the room. Angie ran outside, watching the flames consume the entire house. Every ounce of energy oozing out of her body until she collapsed on the ground.

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