Once upon a time, there was a God of Nightmares, and his name was Wizeman.
Although Wizeman was a horrifying creature of nightmares and darkness, even he got lonely from time to time. And so he decided to create a being in his own image.
Wizeman reached out with his six great hands and grabbed handfuls of the dark energy that makes up human nightmares. He might have used something more pleasant if it had been available; but when you have lemons, you make lemonade. And when you have nightmares, you make Nightmaren.
Disgusted, Wizeman had tossed the rejects out of his castle, where they happily wandered off and multiplied, singing stupid songs, sleeping, laying eggs, and performing other such pointless tasks.
This time, Wizeman was more careful. His creations would be strong. They would be beautiful! They would . . . he blinked at what he had now created. They would have no necks or wrists?
Strange. Strange and pointless. The two toddlers in front of Wizeman had large, blue and purple eyes. They had large smiles on their faces. They had no necks.
Wizeman lifted them and was about to toss them out with the other rejects when the purple one giggled and changed his mind with one word. "Daddy!"
Charmed, Wizeman decided that maybe his Nightmaren were okay after all.
Months later, Wizeman observed as his two freakishly cute creations jumped and tumbled in a makeshift playroom. Despite their shortened limbs, round faces, and large feet, the Nightmaren were surprisingly fast and agile. Especially the smaller purple one.
Wizeman's six eyes blinked in surprise as the larger of the two toddled over to his sibling and proceeded to push him over, resulting in a flow of tears and a loud, unpleasant noise from the unfortunate sibling.
Cruel, Wizeman noted. But then again, such was life. It was a harsh reality that his creations would simply have to learn. He waited patiently for the purple Nightmaren to defend himself.
After several moments, it became obvious that the sobbing youngster wasn't about to make any move to fight back or get away from his stronger brother.
Reluctantly, Wizeman realized that he was supposed to do something about this. Now what did human parents do to crying babies? Spank them? Hug them? Wizeman winced. Wizeman, Lord of Nightmares did NOT get huggy. Still, the little terror was practically screaming with misery.
The little Nightmaren couldn't understand why his brother had pushed him over when he hadn't done anything wrong. His baby brain didn't know much yet, but he knew that pushing people over was not how a person was supposed to start a night. The wrongness and pain where he had banged his elbow were all too much and he was surprised by his own volume.
Then it was over as an enormous hand lifted and cradles him. The tears subsided. All was well again.
"You are a little nighttime terror. . ." Wizeman informed his creation, winning a bright smile in response.
Wizeman hesitated as he felt a small but firm tug on one of his lower hands. Turning keeping on eye on his smaller creation, Wizeman turned the remaining three on the larger of the two.
His mask like face was pulled into a scowl as he looked up at his creator and his sibling. This was hardly fair! He was the stronger and better of the two, and his sibling was rewarded with being picked up! "Me!" The pale Nightmaren demanded, pointing to his sibling angrily.
Wizeman hesitated again, considering this turn of events. The Nightmaren wanted to be close to him? That was a new concept as Wizeman was accustomed to people fleeing in terror from him. Having two warm bodies wanting to be held close was strange . . . and somehow comforting.
The white, red, and black Nightmaren smiled in satisfaction as Wizeman lifted him as well. He took a moment to yank at his sibling's horn as revenge for getting picked up first, and then settled into enjoying the moment.
Wizeman sighed as that terrible crying sound started up all over again. . .
It was three nights later when Wizeman was interrupted from his thoughtful brooding by a now familiar wailing. "Just where does he get that kind of energy? He sure can't be bothered to explore the castle!" Wizeman grumbled, heading for the nursery.
Wizeman had now learned one major drawback of parenthood. Babies had a notion that adults had no need for rest, and felt obliged to scream for parental assistance over the smallest things.
The nighttime terror was tucked into his crib, sobbing brokenheartedly. In the next crib, the larger sibling was chuckling softly to himself.
Wizeman sighed and lifted the purple youngster. "Why are you crying?" It occurred to him that these two needed names. The purple Nightmaren pointed miserably to his sibling. "He said that you bought me as an egg from a fish!!!"
Wizeman blinked all six eyes. "What nonsense! You were never an egg, nor did I buy either of you."
Both Nightmaren relaxed until Wizeman added, "I made you from scratch. You were so much wasted energy to begin with."
Wizeman could not begin to comprehend why both Nightmaren burst into fresh tears at that information.
Later that night, Wizeman was finding it impossible to relax. "You, stop pulling your brother's horns! You, stop crying!" He sighed. "You need names. . ."
Both Nightmaren halted and looked at him expectantly.
"Oh yay, names!" The purple nighttime terror squealed. "Okay, have you chosen names for us?" The more realistic of the two inquired.
Wizeman considered. He had started thinking of them as Nighttime Terror and Realistic One. Of course, those were hardly names. "Hm, Nighttime and Realistic?" Wizeman sighed as both Nightmaren looked disgusted and disappointed. Wizeman's six eyes narrowed in frustration. "Okay, YOU choose names, then!"
The purple one laughed. "I like nighttime, but it's long. . . I want. . ." His sibling interrupted. "Reala. It's a good shortening of the name you wanted." "Nights. . ." The first speaker sighed as neither Reala or Wizeman seemed to hear.
Wizeman nodded. "Well done, Reala." "NIGHTS!" The other shouted, still being ignored.
Reala beamed happily. "And what should we call you?" Wizeman was pleased by the question. "I am your master. Wizeman." Reala nodded. "Master Wizeman!"
"NiiiiiiiiiGHTS!!!!!!!" NiGHTS squealed angrily, finally forcing his creator and brother to look at him.
"Hello, NiGHTS." Wizeman stated in a monotone voice, seeking to humor the emotional youngster. NiGHTS beamed, happy again. "NiGHTS NiGHTS NiGHTS NiGHTS. . ." He proceeded to parade around, chanting his new name. Reala glared. "NiGHTS, shut up!"
Instead, Wizeman blinked as he found a purple Nightmaren happily hugging one of his hands. "I'm NiGHTS!"
Later that night, Reala toddled up to a blue chip that had been left lying on the floor, picking it up and poking it to see if it would break. He was so into his experimentation that he failed to notice his brother sneaking up on him. Reala blinked as a pair of large, deep amethyst eyes peered into his own icy gaze. "What'cha doin', Ree?"
Reala frowned and turns away. "My name's Reala. And none of your business."
NiGHTS blinked. "I know, but that's too long. I like Ree betta."
"Better." Reala corrected absently, wondering if NiGHTS had missaid the word intentionally or not. "Huh? 's'what I said." NiGHTS seemed to enjoy shortening every word he could. It was getting on Reala's nerves.
"G'way. I mean, go away." Reala growled as he caught himself doing it. Baby talk was for babies, and he was almost. . . he thought about it, four hours old? Yeah, he was definitely too old for baby stuff.
NiGHTS blinked as he spotted the blue chip, sparkling blue and round. His own eyes sparkled greedily as he coveted the potential toy. "Ooh, pretty!"
Reala jerked the orb away before NiGHTS could reach for it. "Mine!"
NiGHTS blinked, then tried to grab a hold. "Your name's not on it!"
Reala scrambled to his feet and backed away. "It's still mine!"
NiGHTS followed, getting annoyed. "Nuh uh, that's not fair! Give it!"
"No!" Reala kept backing away until his back hit the wall. He whirled away as NiGHTS went for the blue chip, giggling as the purple Nightmaren bumped his head on the wall and sat down to cry.
NiGHTS wasn't expecting the wall to reach out and strike him like that. It wasn't at all fair, and neither was Reala's keeping the toy away from him.
NiGHTS had no interest in being mature or smart, he was only four hours and twenty eight minutes old, and his head was hurting, and he wanted a toy. Taking a breath, NiGHTS did what came naturally.
"WAAAAAAAAAAHAAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"
To Be Continued. . .