Neon's eyes fluttered open as she gasped for air, her heart racing like a jackhammer. She was drenched in sweat, and tears streamed down her face, soaking her nightgown. She clutched her daughter, Nequahlia, tightly, holding her close as if she would never let her go.
The vivid nightmare still lingered in her mind. She had been walking down a dark corridor when a dark, humanoid figure attacked her, throwing her down the stairs. As she lay there, broken and bleeding, the creature loomed over her, ready to deliver the final blow.
But then, something inside her had snapped. Her body had burst into heat energy, and she had grabbed the creature, her skin melting off as she bit into its neck, tearing through its flesh.
Neon shuddered at the memory, holding Nequahlia even closer. She tried to calm her racing heart, telling herself it was just a dream. But the fear and adrenaline still coursed through her veins, making her feel like she was still trapped in that dark corridor, fighting for her life.
Neon glanced at her phone and saw that it was 3 a.m. She threw off the covers and got out of bed, padding softly to the kitchen to grab a bottle of ice-cold Lasco. She drank it down quickly, feeling the cool liquid soothe her parched throat.
As she returned to bed, Neon felt her eyelids growing heavy once more. She drifted off to sleep, only to find herself in another vivid dream.
In this dream, she saw a man clad in black armor, standing motionless like a statue. He held a black sword at his side, and his presence seemed to draw Neon in. She felt an inexplicable pull towards him, as if she was being drawn into his orbit.
As she stood before him, the man's eyes locked onto hers, and he reached out to grab her. Neon felt a rush of fear mixed with excitement as he pulled her close, his lips crashing down on hers in a passionate kiss.
But the kiss was short-lived, as the man pulled back and raised his sword, ready to strike. Neon screamed and closed her eyes, bracing herself for the impact.
However, instead of feeling the sword's blade, Neon felt herself being pushed out of the way. She opened her eyes to see the man swinging his sword at a massive, 8-foot-tall dragon with diamond-black skin and razor-sharp claws.
As the first light of dawn crept into her room, Neon woke up with a start, glancing at her clock to see that it was 5 a.m. "Oh God," she whispered, feeling a sense of exhaustion wash over her.
She reached for her Bible, seeking comfort and solace in its familiar pages. She read a few psalms, letting the soothing words calm her mind and spirit.
As she read, Neon felt her eyelids growing heavy once more. She knew that her baby, Nequahlia, would sleep in late today, since it was the weekend.
With a sense of gratitude and peace, Neon drifted off to sleep, her Bible still clutched in her hand.
Maxwell was fast asleep, but his mind was active, conjuring up a vivid dream. It was strange, as Maxwell never remembered his dreams before. But this one was different.
In the dream, he saw a bright light, and as he approached it, he saw a beautiful black woman with glowing eyes. Her face was shrouded in shadows, making it impossible for him to discern her features clearly.
Despite the mystery surrounding her, Maxwell felt an overwhelming urge to embrace her, to love and protect her. As he leaned in to kiss her, he felt a rush of emotions he couldn't explain.
Just as their lips touched, a terrifying yet beautiful monster emerged from nowhere, its eyes fixed on them with an unspeakable hunger. Maxwell's instincts kicked in, and he found himself wielding a black sword.
With a fierce determination, he hacked at the creature, swinging his sword until it finally stopped moving. As the monster dissipated into nothingness, Maxwell felt himself being pulled back into reality.
He woke up with a start, his heart racing, and his sheets drenched in sweat. The dream still lingered in his mind, leaving him with more questions than answers.
Maxwell threw off the covers and got out of bed, his mind still reeling from the vivid dream. He didn't bother trying to go back to sleep; instead, he headed straight to his home gym, determined to shake off the lingering emotions.
As he began to work out, Maxwell felt his adrenaline surge, and his muscles tense with effort. He pushed himself to his limits, determined to exhaust himself physically and mentally.
The weights clanged, and the treadmill hummed as Maxwell worked out with a fierce intensity. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his muscles burned, but he refused to stop.
He was driven by a primal urge to purge himself of the dream's dark emotions, to replace them with the rush of endorphins and the satisfaction of pushing his body to its limits.
As the hours passed, Maxwell's exhaustion grew, but he refused to yield. He kept pushing himself, driven by a fierce determination to outrun the shadows of his dream.