Whispers Of The Past

The cool night breeze filled Violet's room as she slept. The curtains danced in a frenzy. The night was calm, but Violet wasn't calm. Violet tossed and turned on her bed. Her hands gripped her bedsheet. The cool breeze had no effect on her; she was drenched in sweat on her bed. “No, please, no,” Violet voiced out. “Please don't take him, don't take him away from me,” she kept repeating. Suddenly, Violet jolted awake. Her body trembled in her bed, and her heart pounded against her chest. It was all a nightmare, not just a nightmare but that same dreaded nightmare that she didn’t understand, but for sure she knew what this figure wanted from her. She swiftly used her hands to clean the sweat off her face. She couldn’t help but recall the events of the nightmare. She always couldn't make out her location in the dreams, but it was always lonely and desolate. Her right hand always held onto another, a smaller hand. The face of the owner of the smaller hands was never clear, but she felt that she knew who owned them as she was always protective and filled with compassion. Then suddenly a faceless man always appeared in her dreams. He had a face but it was always covered with his scattered hairs; he stretched out to take what belonged to hers. She always screamed: “No, please, no.” “Please don't take him, don't take him away from me,” she kept repeating. She had screamed and reached out futilely, her voice lost in the void as the faceless man disappeared with what was hers. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare that had gripped her. She clutched the covers tightly, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to calm her racing heart. She sat up in her bed immediately, tied her hair into a bun, and stood up from the bed. Every atom of sleep had evaded her. She couldn’t even afford to go back to sleep for fear of having the same nightmare which had been occurring a lot lately. She picked up her phone and checked the time. It was 4:00 AM in the morning. She swiped it open and just then Wang’s message popped up. “Just a five-minute chat before you start your day, Queen.” She reached out to put on her bedside lamp; immediately, it illuminated the room. “I think I should get started for the day; there's a lot to do for Shoshana's fitting today,” Violet said as she grabbed her drawing book. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ Today was the worst day for Violet to be late—not after everything she had done to make her brand, VH, outstanding amongst all the luxury fashion designers that lined New York's Seventh Avenue street. It was an average day in one of the busiest streets of the world, colorful as usual. She drove around the corner, careful not to hit any of the overconfident pedestrians, maneuvering the traffic on foot. A quick glance showed that the time was 9:17 AM. Not too bad. Shoshana's fitting was by 10:30 AM so she would be able to put her purchase together before she arrived. Violet had spent the weekend trying to come up with the best kind of fashion technique for the biracial honey-skinned beauty. She had a buxom that made her look seductive no matter what she wore. Clients like that challenged her; they were the reason the slogan of her brand was ‘Just You'. She designed fits that made her clients express themselves in the way they wanted, and if they didn’t know what they wanted, it was her duty to discover her clients and provide a new identity just with fabric and style. Not only was Shoshana's outcome worth the challenge, but she was capable of announcing Violet's name to the entire America. Clients like her could change her entire career; she could exalt her to somewhere close to Zara, Kardashian, or even Chanel in the realm of fashion labels. Dream big. You never know. She parked in her space and immediately sighted Wang, the Korean TikToker with over 10 million followers. She knew he would feature her courtesy of the message he sent to her the night before. “Just a five-minute chat before you start your day, Queen.” He had a charming personality that no one could refuse. He fought his way to the top of social media royalty with his charming smiles and tactful praises to the right persons. “Hey, Queen,” He model-walked his way to her wearing a smile. “Hi, Wang. Good to see you, and it's Violet, not Queen,” she said into the camera that was pointed at them. “You look gorgeous as always, Queen. What is the look giving? Turn around let's see all of you,” Wang said. “It’s saying business as usual, and a touch of soft girl,” Violet answered. “Of course, Queen. You slay,” He gives her a small hug and pulls back. “Okay, CEO, quick one. What do you have to say about the people who think your business is unaffordable? Considering where you came from,” he added the last line as if on second thought. “Well, Wang. I find those comments to be extremely insulting but I refuse to take offense,” Violet said. “ ‘Just You' as the name implies, is a fashion brand that offers luxury. We sell class and we help you tell your story. I want you to feel heard and pampered when you visit my store, and all these are not cheap to deliver in the Big Apple city. If I compromise on the prices, it limits our service delivery, and that is the last thing VH needs,” Violet added. “Queen, you have done what a lot of us only dream of doing, and it’s totally acceptable to choose a particular clientele,” Wang said as he tapped her shoulder. “Besides, friends, VH organizes promo sales and charity events every six months, so she is still very much your home girl,” Wang said with his eyes fixed on the camera and his fans by extension. “Awww…thanks, Wang,” Violet appreciated him. “Thanks for your time, Queen,” Wang said and hugged Violet goodbye and packed up his shooting equipment. “Bye…” she gets into the building and uses the elevator to her studio. 9:40, great. Less than an hour to ensure everything is set for Shoshana. Wang’s interview had upset her, but she already knew that people were talking. Thanks to him, she had diffused the matter a little. Some Americans couldn’t get over the fact that she, the poor Oklahoma country girl, was now fraternizing with upper-class citizens. But she had paid her price to be there. “Good morning, Vi,” Kamara, her best intern greeted her and reached for her bag. “Come on, Kamara, you know how it is, I have hands. How's it going with Shoshana?” Violet asked her. “Excellent, Vi, Emery is doing the final fittings and adjustments on the mannequins.” “Perfect. Good morning, Emery,” Violet greeted a tall black lady with incredibly elegant afro hair emerging from a room. She held a lilac material and a device that looked dangerous. A sewing gun. “Good morning, Vi. You came just in time. I'm having thoughts about this evening dress…” Emery said was answering when the air around them suddenly changed. Emery got distracted and stopped talking; her mouth slowly opened as she stared. “Emery,” Violet called out, wondering what had brought the sudden halt. Emery still looked distracted. Someone had walked into the room. It was that unmistakable fragrance of wealth, the Parisian oud perfume that only the elite could afford. It was the kind of presence that announced itself even before you saw them. The air seemed to crackle with tension as everyone held their breath, unsure of what to expect from this unexpected visitor. Violet's senses tingled with the arrival of the approaching footsteps. She knew this feeling. It was the same with how she felt in her dreams when the faceless man tried to take what was hers. She turned slowly, her heart racing with a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. It felt like she was about to find out the mysterious person who carted away with her possession in her dreams. Who was this person?