Author’s Note: This is in whole by me, and only me. Even the name Neferakhen was kind of made by me. Just in case you’re wondering, Nefer beauty (taken from the name Nefertiti), and Akhen shine or shiny (taken from Akhenaton).

A/N: The last thing I want to do is to offend any history or Egyptian buff with this story. I’m an Egypt freak and I twisted and stretched some of its history to fit into the story.

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She slept, peacefully, with no problem in her mind. One of her hands held a pen and the other one hanged from the bed. Her head was resting on top of an open notebook where she had wrote as she dreamt.

At no point in her life she felt someone was watching her. Nonetheless, someone was always watching her, following her. Right at that moment, he was doing it.

The next morning she got up and went to the bathroom. After taking a long warm bath and brushing her teeth she returned to her bedroom to pick her clothes.

She got a closer look at the notebook, and she realized there were different symbols on it. She didn’t know their meaning; she only knew she was the one who did them. She picked it up and her mind was filled with visions. She remembered her dream. She was surrounded byfive persons that she had never seen before. All of them, including her, had early 20th century clothing. They started to follow her; they wanted to see her dead. She ran away. Four of them lost track of her, but the fifth followed her into a dark alleyway. They started yelling to each other in a foreign ancient language. She took out a knife and stabbed her enemy in the chest. To assure her victory over the dead being, she cut his head off. She covered her fingers with his blood and wrote on the wall. The writing on the wall was the same thing she had written on her notebook. But, what did it mean?

She decided to forget about the dream. So she ripped the page off, and hid it beneath her mattress.

She worked at a cyber cafe in the center of the city with her best friend Ricardo. They were both setting up the new computers when Ricardo noticed something was wrong with her. “Are you okay?”, he asked. “Yeah, I just feel a little bit tired.”, she replied. “Are you sure it’s only that?”

“Well, I had a weird dream.”

"What was it about?”

“I murdered someone, but it was on self defense. Do you think that’s bad?”

"Not really, it was on self defense.”

"But then, I cut his head off and wrote some symbols in the wall with his blood.”

"Aren’t you morbid?”, he said jokingly. “Look, if it bothers you that much, look through the archives or search through the net and analyze that dream.

"I think I might be going insane."

"Dreaming is the way that your subconscious expresses.”

"So, what? My subconscious wants to kill someone?”

"Look for more info, if you want, I’m sure that the public library has some books you can read, like they did before”, he shuddered at the thought of having to read books. “I highly doubt that you have some repressed urges to kill somebody.”

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A/N: She doesn’t have a name, so I’m sorry if I get a little bit redundant with the whole “she” and “her” thing. As I’ve said in one of my notes in Children Of The Night, I don’t want her to have a name, since the reader may get to close and personal with her… aarrgh, maybe you will anyway…