The Curse of the Nightmare

Years ago, when Earth was young,
Warm was the air and bright the sun,
White Unicorns stood as guardians
Of the world’s bright thoughts and dreams.
With them lived a man named Valdor,
Weaving bright dreams and light together.
But his brother Feindor loved a darker art,
Having a black and rotting heart.
Capturing a Unicorn of softest white,
He trapped him in eternal Night
With fire and stone and deadly cold
And dreams that drove the creature mad
As glossy white turned joyless grey,
Then bony black.
Then, Feindor gripped his rotting horn
And ripped it from the creature’s head.
Flames burst with the creature’s cries,
And a wild fire lit its eyes—
And thus, a Nightmare was born.
Then Feindor hunted the other Unicorns,
Transforming them into darker forms
As coldness chilled the misty air,
And the joyous sun grew dim and drear,
Until one Unicorn and Valdor guarded the light
From an ever deepening and maddening night.
But as Nightmares circled around them,
The Unicorn wove Valdor’s brightest dream
Into the air, a shimmering web that grew
And expanded as the shadows flew.
Then light grew bold, and wind grew warm,
Led by Valdor and the last Unicorn.
But Feindor shrieked in a hateful tone
And ran and hid in deep caves alone
Where shadows danced upon cold walls
And darkness brooded in cavern halls
And black Nightmares lurked, robed in flame,
Who gave the dark dreams of Night their name.