Nightmares

Morton's POV:

Morton heard the clanging of metal and heavy footsteps, which shook him awake. He was sitting in the middle of a smooth stone square, about 35 by 35 feet large, with smooth marble lumps extending from it. Marble sculptures of humans towered over him, but since Morton had never seen a human before, the sculptures were foreign to him. Besides the human ones, though, some sculptures depicted cloaked figures with hunched statures. All of the sculptures, though, were headless. Judging from the necks, it appeared that the heads had been smashed off, but the reason why was unknown.

Morton got from the ground and looked past the statues to see Koopas in knight's armor, wielding swords and shields and crossbows, clashing against similar Koopas, yet those had dark purple armor compared to the other Koopas' silver armor. They carried trinkets and accessories with them, as if they positively, magically affected the wearer, and soon Morton spotted strange brown creatures with spiked helmets running down opposing Koopas. Sr. had told Morton of them—Goombas, the weakest of every kingdom's hierarchy due to their lack of arms. Then Morton saw new fighters—gray, blocky, humanoids with big black noses. Some were armored, some robed, wielding axes or strange lightning-like blasts that shot from their hands.

The sights dazzled Morton. He had never seen a real fight against two different, heavily armed forces before. He'd never even physically seen all of the fighters, and only assumed he knew some of them based on Sr.'s descriptions.

Then Morton remembered that when he fell asleep, he was in the middle of a mesa prairie and was struggling to survive, his safest home was gone, and his father had been chased off into the horizon by the Dragonfly.

"HOW…" Morton thought aloud. He backed up and ran into something behind him. He whirled around to see the face of a white rhino, but as he backed up, he realized it was just another marble sculpture. This one was different, though, as it was ensnared by vines and looked deformed and crumbling, and its whole nose had been knocked clean off and was nowhere near the strange structures. Behind the rhino, though, Morton saw a sprawling city of mud-and-stone brick houses, huts, and businesses, and behind it all, a giant castle with the face of a growling Koopa over it.

A thunderous blast shook the ground, and marble rained over Morton as he fell. He slipped into his shell and was sent spinning as more rubble knocked him aside. He popped his head out of his head-hole to see that one of the human statues had been blown up, and was crackling with…blue flames? Morton climbed a bit more out of his shell to get a better look. Yes, blue, no, red, also green…multicolored flames were burning over the remains of one of the statues!

"Ludwig, move! I have got to get a better shot!" called a strange, high-pitched voice. Morton gazed past the rainbow fire to see a Koopa with a bird-like beak dressed in blue robes and a slumped-over blue hat. The magikoopa held a golden wand in his hand, with a ruby tip that was shining with more multicolored flame. The magikoopa also wore foggy, thick glasses and round red boots.

"LUDWIG!" screamed the magikoopa once again. One of the silver-armored Koopas tilted his head towards the Koopa wizard before running to the side.

Another multicolored blast sailed right past the helmet of whom Morton presumed belonged to this "Ludwig" and hit one of the blocky gray warriors in the chest. The warrior was blasted back and crashed into one of the purple-armored Koopas, and both collapsed to the ground in a heap.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING? WHERE AM I?" Morton called, but no one responded. His voice was drowned out by roars, booms, and metal clanging against metal.

"HOW DID I GET HERE? SOMEONE! SOMEONE?"

"You are afraid," said another voice. This one sounded casual, yet a little low—the absolute opposite of the magikoopa's.

Morton didn't have to look far for the speaker. A pale-faced human in a recently-ironed dapper black suit appeared from behind the white rhino. The man looked surreal to Morton, and his appearance confused him, too. Before Morton could get a closer look, though, there was another blast behind him, and marble flew past him and over him. One flew threw his legs, and another hit his foot, making him fall back onto his shell. The human stepped over Morton, taking his time with every little step, and Morton saw his face: dark, baggy eyes; thin mouth curved in a smirk, creases along his brow; curved-back black hair pressed against his head.

"I hope you aren't always like this, Koopaling," said the man, "it would be a tragedy if you were one of them."

Morton opened his mouth to ask the name of this man and what he was talking about, but then he blacked out.

When Morton awoke, he had a pounding headache. He sat up and found himself back in the mesa-prairie. His fire was dying and there was a cool wind blowing through the grasses. The half-moon was high in the sky, illuminating the land just a little bit. Morton had woken up in the night before in his life, but he'd quickly gone back to sleep. This was the first time he had been outside during that time, and the reason why was because of the cold. Morton was shivering a little bit, and he scooted closer to the fire. His wounds were scabbing, but they still hurt.

It was a dream, thought Morton, just a foolish dream. But who was that person in the suit? What creature was he? He called me a "Koopaling," not a "Koopa." If he's just a figment of my imagination…no, it can't be. I've never seen anything like it. He must've…visited my dream? That makes no sense. Maybe he's a magikoopa in disguise? I dunno. I should ask Sr., but I don't know where he is. He might be…

No, he's not dead. That is impossible. Shut up, brain. Impossible. Father isn't dead!

There was a whisper, and Morton looked around but saw no one. The fire was a dying beacon in the darkness, and the moonlight only let him see so much.

Another whisper. It was faint and nonsensical, something like "Pshshpfh," but he heard another whisper just like it, and another, and another!

"AM I GOING INSANE?" Morton asked. He didn't get it, but at the same time, he did. His whole life he had played and worked in the bright, warm sunlight, with Sr. always close by. Now he was alone, in the cold darkness of night after a near-death experience. This had never happened. This can't be happening! What are the whispers? Am I going to die?

Another whisper. It came from all directions, but just one, or just in his head. He didn't know where, but it was one of them. Or all. Or none. It was a scary, terrifying feeling. Morton clutched his head, swaying back and forth on his rump, desperate to shake the whispers from his head. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he realized that his vision had a pale tint to it, like how the man's face had one. Is that man doing this? Stop it, man! The whispers kept up, though.

Finally, it happened. Morton froze as he saw one of the shadows cast by his campfire…move. Not like swaying in the wind, but…actually moving. As if the shadows were alive.

From the darkness, a long-fingered hand, made of shadow, stretched out. At first Morton couldn't identify it as separate from the gloom, but he soon realized that there was a hand, a living shadow. It slinked towards the fire, the fingers of the hand moving up and down in an arched position like the legs of a spider. Soon a long, slender arm of shadow followed the hand from the gloom, and Morton drew his knife, ready to fight the horror.

The shadow hand touched its fingers down on the ground and paused. After a moment, it moved again, its fingers moving like a finger-person with two fingers for legs. That movement, that behavior of the shadow hand, was eerie and nostalgic to Morton, for when he was a child, he would move his fingers like that, imagining them as little legs for Koopas like him.

This is the time to strike, Morton figured out. Nnnnnnow!

Morton leaped forward, hollering a battle cry as he slashed downwards on the shadow hand's wrist. Instead of breaking it, though, Morton's knife hit the ground instead, firing backward and slicing his left leg. With a grunt, Morton tumbled forward through the hand's arm.

With a heave, Morton got up and saw that the non-physical shadow hand had cupped itself around the flames of Morton's fire. Morton hobbled towards the hand, bleeding, trying to raise his knife into the air to try again, but then the hand clenched, and the flames were extinguished.

"NO!" Morton cried as he was plunged into almost complete darkness. Whispers filled his head until they were the only things he could hear. The shadow hand slithered away and melted back into the gloom as if it hadn't been there at all. Now the only proof of its existence was the blackness that surrounded Morton.

Morton dropped his knife making a clatter that somehow echoed. Morton didn't hear it, though. He just heard the whispers.

"FATHER! HELP ME!" Morton yelled to no avail. "STOP IT!" The whispers lessened a bit, but still flooded his ears with the force of a flashbang.

Morton looked to the sky, silently praying for help, looking full-on at the moon—the brightest thing in the sky. Next to it, there wasn't a cloud here.

"STOP IT! GO AWAY, CLOUD! I DEMAND YOU GO!"

It was no use.

Morton felt colder and colder as the cloud began to cover the moon until finally, the moon was gone, and so was the moonlight. Now…

Morton was plunged into darkness. Complete, pitch, inky black. He couldn't see anything at all. He panicked. He was soaked with cold sweat. He could only hyperventilate shallow, shaky breaths. His throat felt gross, and his mouth felt dry. He felt his heart rock all around his insides, and he held a clenched fist to his chest, trying to tell himself his heart wasn't beating too fast—even though it was.

There was a whoosh sound from behind Morton.

"SHOW YOURSELF!" said Morton.

There was a slashing sound. A horrible pain tore through Morton, blasting from his head and chest and rocketing to his body. Morton collapsed and convulsed as the pain pierced him again. He went limp, and he felt like he was being pricked by sharp fingernails everywhere.

The shadow hand? Morton thought. Or something else? Something worse?

Out of the blue, as abruptly as it came, the pain ceased. Morton still felt weak, but all pain was gone. Pain is just a feeling, after all.

Morton sat up and rubbed his head, peering out into the dark void that engulfed him. What exactly had attacked him? Morton didn't know, but he wanted to. He groped around until he felt his knife's blade, and he moved downwards to pick it up by the handle and slip it into his pocket.

Then it happened again. Another whoosh sound.

"HECK NO, NOT AGAIN!" Morton said. He curled up into his shell and began to spin away trying to keep a continuous fast pace. Even still, he felt a little spark of pain begin to swirl through him.

No again, NOT AGAIN!

The pain stopped. He stopped. Morton poked his head out, but it was still complete darkness. "WHAT?..."

Morton moved his head, scanning the murk, and about ten seconds later dark cobalt moonlight showered over the land once again. Morton watched the cloud covering the moon drift away, and the complete darkness was gone.

Once again, a lit campfire crackled in front of Morton, painting his face with shadow. He'd eaten some more cooked cacti and was beginning to feel better, more at ease. Unfortunately, the paleness in his vision hadn't lifted, though, and now curving red tendrils outlined his vision. Whispers floated through his head, and occasionally he'd see glowing white eyes blink in the darkness, even if just for a split second. He didn't make any sense of it, these nightmarish shadow hands and attackers and eyes, and he felt isolated, physically, mentally, and spiritually. He wished for Sr. to be with him and for dawn to come quickly, but it was only about an hour or two past midnight, and Sr. was on the other side of the world for all he knew.

Another shadow hand came from the darkness. Morton spotted it quickly this time, the image of it still being branded in his memory and he moved towards it. He didn't know what he should do, but he knew cutting at it with his knife wasn't going to work—at least, he presumed.

Quickly, Morton snatched up a stick and wrapped a clump of grass around it, essentially creating an unlit torch. He poked the campfire with it until it was wreathed with flame; kinda like the multicolored flames that had surrounded the magikoopa's wand in his dream. With his burning weapon in hand, he waved it at the shadow hand, yelling and spitting like a crazed man. The shadow hand instantly began to retreat into the darkness as Morton advanced on it, chasing it farther from his campfire. Eventually, the shadow hand disappeared. Just straight up vanished into thin air.

"HUH," Morton thought aloud, "HMMMMM…AHA!"

A few minutes later, Morton had his hands on his hips, chest puffed out as he beamed proudly at his work. His campfire was roaring brighter than ever, and seven torches dotted the surrounding area, the light from them illuminating about 35 by 35 feet.

Just like the smooth-stone square in Morton's dream.

But Morton wasn't safe for much longer. As Morton struck an eighth torch into the ground like a garden stake, he saw something advancing towards him in the distance. This beast was woven from shadows, like the shadow hands, but it was very different in form. It had a wavy body with three appendages at the bottom, like spider legs-similar to the shadow hands' fingers. Its head was just a chunkier part of the wavy line that was its body, but it had a fanged octopus beak for a mouth with a hole on either side of its head that was presumably its eyes. A few spiky appendages popped out from its back, moving like its legs.

"WHAT IN THIS WORLD BE YOU?" Morton asked the shadow creature.

The aberration didn't hesitate. It just continued towards Morton and was soon upon him.

"YOU THINK YOU'RE GONNA, UH, DO SOMETHING TO ME?" Morton barked at the beast. "THEN, UH…NO, YOU AIN'T BE DOING DAT HERE!" Morton yanked the torch he'd just shoved into the ground up and struck the beast with it.

The creature reared back and made a terrible cry, so bloodcurdling that Morton stumbled back and almost fell back onto one of his other torches. Then it bent over him, shrieking with its mouth gaping open, its eyes looking strained, and its appendages forward to stab Morton. Without a second thought, Morton shoved his torch upwards right into the beast's mouth. It shrieked again and then imploded in a blast of dark energy.

"THAT EASILY—"

Morton felt frigid behind him, and he turned to see the beast had teleported behind him. Morton dodged its beak before striking it twice with his torch. The beast imploded again, and Morton turned and swung, expecting the beast to show itself behind him again. This time it didn't, and Morton saw it charging diagonally at him, slaloming through Morton's torches. Morton waited for the beast to come to him, and Morton dodged a lung attack before striking. He then took out his knife in his other hand and struck it at the same time he struck it with his torch. The beast shook and stepped on one of Morton's torches. The torch was extinguished, but the beast imploded again. This time, though, the dark energy released from it clumped up and fell to the ground.

"WHAT EVEN WAS THAT?" Morton asked aloud. His head began to clear up, and the paleness and wavy red lines that were in the way of his vision vanished. There were now no more eyes blinking in the darkness, and he could only faintly hear the whispers. Morton reached down and scooped up the pulsing, dark mass. For a second he thought he saw a cartoonish face in it, but once he blinked it was gone.

Morton held the hand he had holding the substance over his other hand and tilted it to the side. The substance slowly dripped into Morton's other hand like molasses, and Morton waited until it had all fallen onto his other hand before shoving it down into his shell. Feeling like his location was no longer safe, Morton tied three of his torches together with grass and then left his little campsite, leaving the fires to continue to burn; maybe the shadows would target his campsite due to the fire, even if he wasn't there. And maybe, instead, Morton thought that Sr. could possibly see the smoke in the distance and would follow.

Maybe it didn't make that much sense, but do bear in mind that Morton wasn't the most intelligent creature out there. His disorders and limited education prevented that. He'd do what he thought was best, and if no one was there to guide him, who knows what he'll do or where he'll go.

New references to games in this chapter:

22. The marble sculptures and smooth-stone square Morton found himself in during his dream is the Marble Sculptures Set Piece from Don't Starve; the described statues are ones from the Set Piece

23. The Goombas, Koopas, and the blue-robed magikoopa (Kamek) are from Mario; Ludwig is also from Mario, and the castle in the town's background is Bowser's Castle

24. The trinkets and accessories some of the soldiers had on were referencing Minecraft: Dungeons Artifacts and Terraria's Accessories

25. The "gray, blocky, humanoids with big black noses" and their abilities listed are Illagers from Minecraft/Minecraft: Dungeons

26. The man in dark robes who talks to Morton is a "certain someone" from Don't Starve

27. Morton having a paler vision, eyes in the darkness, whispers, and red wavy lines at the edge of his vision are all effects of Insanity in Don't Starve; the shadow hand and "chair-legged" shadow beast are Shadow Hands and Terrorbeaks from the game respectively; and Morton being attacked in complete darkness is also from the game

28. Morton saying "SHOW YOURSELF!" when the pitch-darkness monster appeared is what Wolfgang from Don't Starve says when the same thing happens to him

29. Also, the black substance Morton gained from slaying the Terrorbeak is Nightmare Fuel from Don't Starve, too

30. The way Morton puts down torches is like the Player from Minecraft