Gillian
Memories
Sometimes falling into a trance, into a kind of waking dream, is quite normal for me. This has been happening to me since childhood. As if memories from the past. The time is not ours. Proof of this are the magnificent lush balls, the old clothes of the townspeople and people around me, the absence of cars on the streets, and instead of them, carriages and carts drawn by horses.
What is most amazing is that I am a direct participant in everything, as if what is happening is reality. I am growing up and along with me, the one whose memories are growing up.
I did not know what the mistress of the visions looked like until today. For some people, a birthday is a significant date, but for me, it's nothing special, I just turned nineteen.
The noise coming from below foretells a celebration, but not the one I'd like. It's time to get ready, but I can't tear myself away from my reflection in the mirror. The girl in front of me is completely different from me.
Thick red hair emphasizes the whiteness of her skin. Her nose is slightly snub, her cheekbones are high, and her lips are plump. The only similarity is the look and color of her eyes. Looking into them, I realize that I see myself. But why are we so different?
She's wearing an old-fashioned dress for walks, her hair is raised with a comb, her hairstyle allows you to see her long neck. Red curls add charm to her image. Her posture and the way she holds herself clearly indicate an aristocratic background. She is stretched out like a string and this string has an incredibly thin waist.
I can't shake the feeling that she is me, but I can't imagine how this is possible. And why did I see after so many years who these memories belong to, all these visions and dreams that have become an integral part of my life? Why today? Does this date really mean something to her? Although it's nothing special for me, I don't like holidays.
In my home, which is hard to even call home, they use such an occasion as a means to make useful acquaintances. For my father, business is more important than his daughter and stepmother, and for the stepmother, entertainment, endless shopping, and numerous lovers are more important.
Nobody cares about me. Our family would have fallen apart long ago if my father did not need to maintain the image of a family man. It turns out that thanks to a false and inauthentic image, you can reach certain heights in business.
Who was dear to me, was my mother. I bathed in love, she replaced everyone, and I did not need anyone else. Fate cruelly took away the only truly loving person, leaving me an orphan with a living father. One day we learned that my mother was seriously ill.
The disease turned a blooming beautiful woman into a thin, pale, and helpless one in a matter of months. After her death, I was left all alone in the big world.
I am sure that the time will come when my father will marry me off to one of his partners and with the help of this marriage he will conclude the next profitable deal. Money is power, and he is obsessed with it.
There was a loud, insistent knock on the door. It tore me out of oblivion. I looked in the mirror again. The girl had evaporated, and I finally saw myself.
I opened the door. My friend flew into the room like a hurricane. A ray of light in my dark kingdom.
"Phew, I thought I was late!" Iris plopped down on the bed.
"Don't worry, Father changed the time? The guests will start arriving in an hour. Sorry, I forgot to warn you. My day has been bad since this morning."
"What, memories again?"
Iris; She's the only one who knows what's going on with me. If it weren't for my friend, I would have gone to a mental hospital long ago. Her belief in the truth of the visions made me believe it too.
"Finally saw what the girl looked like." Iris immediately sat up and stared at me with her big brown eyes.
"A red-haired aristocrat." She described her in two words.
"And?"
"And nothing, I just stood there and looked at her. If I moved, she did too."
"Hmm, that's amazing. What does that mean?"
"I have no idea. But we have something in common. I can't explain it. Like we're one."
"Is there any resemblance between you?"
"We have the same eyes, shape, neckline, right down to the central heterochromia. She has the same green flower around the pupil in the gray iris as I do. A common feature."
"Wow!" exclaimed my friend.
"But in other respects, we're completely different. She's a redhead, I'm a blonde, she's thin, and I have more rounded curves. The girl's skin is perfectly white, and mine is tanned. Complete opposites, like heaven and earth."
"Well, she's from the past, and you're a modern girl, following the ever-changing fashion trends. Paleness is not popular these days."
"Judging by the dress, approximately the beginning of the nineteenth century."
"And is she as beautiful as you?" Iris's curiosity knows no bounds.
"We can't be compared, but to be honest, I've never met such a beautiful woman."
It's time to get used to the constant companion in my life, we've grown together. She is an image from the past, but to this day her visions amaze me with their reality. It can easily be confused with reality.
"So, my dear, it's time for us to get ready. You need to get dressed, otherwise your daddy will be angry because his naughty daughter is not ready yet."
The friend is right.
Hurried and behind the screen. She deliberately chose a tight long dress for an hourglass figure. It emphasizes feminine curves. Just what she needs to piss off her father. The open back and the neckline ending at the top of her thigh will finish him off. Only the color is black, the blond curls look great against it.