Dionte

As if a supernatural force jolts him awake, Dionte's eyes snap open to be met with the dark, eerie expanse above. The red hues distort the moonlight's gentle glow, and there's not a twinkling star in sight. This is contrary to the sky that was full before he had gone to bed, which causes him to slowly lift his head. What stands out first is that he's no longer sprawled on his firm mattress or even under the roof of his home. Instead, the hard pavement underneath him has the male take a stand, brushing off his pants.

"Where am I?"

Circling to get a better grasp on his surroundings, the large signpost seems to be a marker for this unknown neighborhood. Marquette Grove? That name doesn't ring a bell, and the distant suburban houses are a bit fancier than his residence. It's uncomfortably quiet despite being at the dead of night, and there's only one reasonable conclusion that can explain his current setting.

"I must be dreaming..."

It's not often he has many dreams; furthermore, he doesn't usually realize so until the alarm clock startles him from his slumber. Some self-awareness should grant the upper hand to force this fictive realm to end, but not a pinch—or three—welcomes him to the calm space of his bedroom.

An audible sigh escapes Dionte's lips. The televised horror movie that was on hours ago is most likely the root of his dilemma. I oughta put more thought into what to watch before going to sleep. As busy as his schedules are, the male needs proper rest, though he might not receive any within a possible nightmare.

With no other options than allowing this to play out, Dionte begins to walk down the soulless sidewalk. The dim, flickering streetlights still manage to attract bugs, which is the single sign of life in the abandoned town. Many would be asleep at this late hour, but it's unusual not to see a person in sight... Regardless, it doesn't make sense to apply logic to a place that's been created inside his brain. If anything, it's his lack of imagination that's at fault for this stretching solitude.

That's until a silhouette in the distance grabs his attention. The outline of perhaps a man, but he's just too far away to draw this conclusion without getting a better look.

"Hey, excuse me!"

He increases his pace, which turns into a full-blown sprint when the person turns away. Dionte reaches the corner as fast as possible, but the figure is nowhere to be seen. I lost him... That's considering someone was there to begin with, and he takes a minute to catch his breath. Maybe I just wanted company while making rounds around the block. Yet, it seems his brain is depriving him of any human interaction.

Dionte can't count how many streets he's traveled along or the number of breaks he has taken. However, no matter how far he goes, everything remains the same, and this lack of change is starting to get old with no present goal. What exactly is the point of this dream? His legs feel tired, as if his actual body is kicking around in bed for a workout.

A sudden shiver runs down his spine, and the midnight chill is going right through his thin pajamas. He's not equipped for the harsh winter breeze, but how is this affecting him in a dream? There's a chance he just kicked the covers off, but the heat should've clicked on to provide him a little comfort. Maybe walking will trick my mind to warm myself up.

The male doesn't resume his stroll for long before a certain growl causes him to freeze faster than the low temperature. He can't pinpoint the origin, but he knows for sure that an animal is inching closer. The stitches he got when bitten as a child are linked to his fear, and if there's one house pet he doesn't mess with, it's dogs.

"The growling sounds too deep to be some vicious mutt, though..."

While searching for the source before it finds him first, Dionte spots an oddly shaped shadow ahead. It's just my eyes playing tricks on me again... In any normal circumstances, this would've had him take another street and pray it doesn't follow. Nevertheless, since he is dreaming, there's no harm in checking it out. Lord forbid this is somehow real and I'm not aware of it yet... Taking a deep exhale, he slowly peeps around the brick wall to see what's on the other side.

What he discovers has him go numb from head to toe—completely paralyzed at the sight. This thing's large black body is covered in fur that's standing on its ends, resembling a vicious beast ready to pounce. Its three glowing red eyes follow his every movement, and the stained claws on its paws are far longer and more deadly than those of any wild animal. Dionte struggles desperately to receive oxygen to his lungs, but small amounts squeeze through as if buried face-first in his pillow.

One quick slash in his direction is all it requires to send him running aimlessly in the opposite direction. He stumbles forward, trying to block out the sound of the monster's heavy pattering behind him. What is that?! Did I have to dream up something more horrifying than any stray dogs I've come across?! Dionte can't process where to flee or if there's even a point to escape. This is all supposedly not real, but the goosebumps covering his arms don't allow him to stop.

He makes a few sharp turns in hopes of losing it, able to feel the distance between them shortening more and more. Dionte's feet cry in agony being exposed to every pebble with his lack of shoes, and his loud pants increase with each step, pushing well past his limits. He can't endure much farther without a quick breather, but to seal his fate, there's nothing apart from a full trash bin in the dark alleyway. This is a dead end! Just as he spins around, the monster stands blocking his one and only exit.

Dionte shakily backs up against the trash can, and this little bump causes his knees to dangerously buckle. He braces himself, barely managing to stay upright as the predator nears his prey. Its open mouth reveals two rows of razor-sharp teeth that could tear his flesh apart quite effortlessly.

"There's nowhere left to run..."

His body collapses, seeing it futile to keep fighting—and even for a nightmare—he would rather not go out being mauled to death. The monster, mere inches from him now, scratches a second time, Dionte throwing up his arm in defense. An excruciating pain has him verbally hissing, and he trembles as several droplets of red hit the concrete. T-That's my blood. No. It's not shocking that he's bleeding, but the throbbing in his scratched veins is.

Am I actually awake or asleep? He visibly remembers going to lie down, but truth and deception are being warped in his mind. Am I going to feel even more pain when this thing kills me? If a simple scratch can hurt so much, he doesn't want to imagine what's about to come.

Dionte's eyes fall shut to pray, but before he can even call on His name, the male's forest-green eyes snap back open. It's a good long minute until his scattered thoughts can focus on his location. The firm mattress and soft sunlight seeping through the closed blinds have him let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank God that's over."

He allows his elevated heartbeat to calm down while checking his alarm clock. It's six on the dot. Even for a busy guy like himself, springing up at this hour is a tad early for his liking. Though it's not like I'm gonna be able to sleep peacefully after that wild nightmare. Dionte can recall the smallest detail of the realistic dream he just experienced. More often, upon returning to the realm of the living, just a hazy memory of his fantasies remains.

This does create a list of things he'd like to check now, and the first guess is already proven wrong—he's wrapped securely in his covers. So I didn't knock this to the floor after all. Then why was it so cold? His body feels perfectly fine with the heat still toasting his bedroom. The male's current position crosses off his second reasoning too, Dionte having sat up from lying on his back. That means I couldn't have been suffocated by my pillow when gasping for air. None of it makes any sense, but the most concerning has him yank at his pajama sleeve, examining his umber-brown skin carefully. As he expected, there's not a trace of injury on his arm to suggest he scratched himself in his unconscious state. But the pain felt so real...

Confirming all these just makes his uneasiness grow, and Dionte's hope to obtain any rest is practically zero. Nevertheless, the male tries to get comfortable, needing the energy for a productive day. In the end, this only leads him to stare at the walls until the alarm clock goes off.

A/N Hello readers, this concludes chapter one. Similar to Is It True Love, the first chapter is a bit shorter to get a feel for the story before increasing to a longer word count moving forward. I would love to hear your thoughts, and I'll be updating soon.