[Writing] Bump in the Night

[ping111]

Hey. Here\'s a quick WIP that came to me. It\'s first-person, I believe to be in the position of FSLSPPIII (President of Preboot Makavi), and designed to be his first impressions of the Great Münar War. If you have an idea for content, lemme know.

Cheers!

-ping111

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I\'ve been sitting motionless in my bed for two hours now. Sleep continues to evade me, so instead I attempt to force it upon myself, slamming my eyes shut or counting sheep (whatever those beasts are supposed to look like). But every time I near dormancy\'s sweet release, a howl from a creature rampant in the wooden yonder or the infernal scratching noise of a Brinti attempting to consume my home denies it. Exasperated, I sigh and roll over, face-down into my pillow. The noise is gone, but the consistent throb of my pulse, as well as the warmth of my breath, blocks any access to dreams. Yet I wonder if it\'s not merely the discomfort that constitutes my lack of rest. Perhaps... it is guilt or worry gripping my subconscious?

My numb arms shake as they push me into a sitting position. With a flick of a switch, a blinding light glows and I clench my eyes to shield them from pain. Soon enough the brightness appears acceptable, and I cautiously flicker my eyes open. Pain and blindness does not greet them, but vision and enlightenment, and a childish sliver of security. As my spacious bedroom bathes in the lightbulb\'s golden rays, my fingers slide through my sleek black hair, messing up the neat part they normally rested in. The palms are soon to follow, as they rub across my cheeks, over the countless bags that signify my tiredness, and finally over my puffy eyes. Yet even in light, just as in darkness, nary a thought to my deprivation of rest comes to mind. I decide that I need a more natural light. Yes, maybe the harsh burn of the lamp is distracting... What about the gentle, caring snakes of silver? Surely the Mün holds the answer...

Ah, how I love the feeling of my feet gracefully making contact with the plush carpet beneath. It\'s as gentle and calculated as a Mün landing... and funnily enough, that\'s why I\'m getting up in the first place! I chuckle inwardly as the bed gladly relieves of my pressure, bequeathing it to my feet. The natural paleness of my skin is only highlighted by the fingers of light shining through the shutters, making it seem as if my arms are covered in ghostly-white bars. The stripes widen further when the shutters rotate, and more of the Mün rolls into view. Barech Ha\'Makav for this glorious evening, and even more wonderful day. Kerbol will caress my people with its light, and they shall bask in it... My dear, beloved children...

My ponytail is the last segment of my hair to be undone, when it is shaken free by my sudden jitter of a reality check. It is not important now think about the Kerbals I see every day. If remain an insomniac for one night more, I may well simply collapse and sleep as I address them! I focus on the mission at hand, and gaze at the slate ball that hangs above like a puppet of the sky, lacing with a web of stars. Thousands of pinprick lights to guide the night, that the day may proceed it. Every day is like a parade, and us Kerbals are mere spectators... Again I get sidetracked! Besides, why am I looking at the perspective of things in the universe? I am like a Father to all the Makavi Nation, a President if there ever was one! I bet that Barrett fellow still weeps and bows before me every night, begging for mercy! I have every right to smite him like an insect, but yet I wait. I am humble and merciful, and he is yet to transgress.

Must... Open.... Window... See... Mün!

Why is it taking me so long just to open a silly glass pane!? Perhaps this is what is been pestering me - Am I not using my executive power to its full extent? Is Timothy cunningly devising his plan to annex the Nation as I ramble to myself like a madkerb? I pray to the Furnace of the Spectral Gate, struck eight times by the very mallet I carry by my side to create its deep craters, looking for an answer to my insecurity, a cure to my insomnia. I\'ve done this prayer so many times; just a simple mantra in Maktani, requesting mercy and love and guidance and all that. But never before have I meant what I have been saying. Now, I feel like a child lost in a crowd of confusion. I\'m sure that this is not an illness or discomfort. No, I cannot sleep for a reason. A good reason...

Suddenly, a brilliant glimpse of light catches the corner of my eye. Perhaps it is my prayer being delivered on a silver comet, straight into the Fires of Justice? I smile at the thought of my priority in faith. But religion is little more than a blind belief, or so I\'ve been told by nay-sayers. If not a messenger of blessing, what is this trailing wonder before me tonight? It is more than a shooting star, clearly. It appears to be heading towards the Mün at a speedy rate, never slowing down. After several seconds of watching, it is yet to disappear. What is this? This is more than just a hunk of rock... No... I-it... It can\'t be....

BOOOOOOOOOM!!!!!!

Shards of coloured glass descend onto my bed in a heap, sourcing from the mighty chandelier that hangs above the four-poster masterpiece. It seems Kerbin itself is shaking to the core. Kerbol must now shake in fear, mortified by the actions of her brother. But how? How could a nuke reach the Mün? How could it cause such a shockwave, and so quickly? I know I need to dash, to reach shelter. I must be protected at all costs, they tell me. But yet I simply stand there before my window, paralyzed. My fingers twitch out of nervousness. A single bead of sweat rolls down the edge of my forehead. Another question forms: Why? Why would anyone want to destroy the one thing that can unite all under a banner of peace? A project of co-operation that can lead Kerbalkind to trot about it, a monument of achievement? The holiest place for Makruvianism, dotted with Münoliths set there by the Forces of the Spectral Gates themselves? Why? Sweat dotting my cheeks now mingle with tears. I have to keep my poise in front of the nation, to keep them calm in times of crisis.... But at home? I can cry all I want. And I do. Collapsing now to the floor, I slide wistfully across the wall, of which now many flecks of paint are missing. I curl up in a ball and cry. I cry for the destruction of peace. I cry for death of progress.

I cry for the cruel answer to my prayer.

A large cloud of Münar dust erupts in a plume, dotted with the oranges and yellows of flame. It reminds me of the fire that plagued our first-ever rocket, designed, funded, and launched by my father. We were giddy with excitement, to see the Makavi Nation soar to the stars. But then.. it never took off. It merely sat on the launchpad, flame licking its metal body. One tongue of the blaze penetrated a booster, and the entire craft exploded in a cocktail of heat and smoke. I was standing a distance away, watching the scene with binoculars behind a wall of glass. But yet tears welled up in my eyes, and as did Father\'s... We had failed our people. And now I have failed them. The pinnacle of destruction and murder, the nuclear bomb, has been detonated on the very world that hid away in the days of my father. Perhaps Brother of Kerbol did not want to encroach upon Father? But he would have welcomed the Mün with open arms, as he did his people... Why is he gone? Why is peace gone!? Who is responsible for this massacre of everything Kerbalkind has ever held dear!?

[Monkthespy]

Because nukes mean everything.

[Twinky827]

Mun. not Mun with the two dots over it pronounced Mun. Otherwise good story.

[Monkthespy]

Mun. not Mun with the two dots over it pronounced Mun. Otherwise good story.

Actually it\'s Mün or Mun.

[ping111]

Mun. not Mun with the two dots over it pronounced Mun. Otherwise good story.

I\'m Hungarian/French-based, so I spell and pronounce it with an umlaut. Deal with it.

Also, before you write your comment, please write what you like about the story or what you don\'t - not just 'It\'s good'.

[Twinky827]

I\'m Hungarian/French-based, so I spell and pronounce it with an umlaut. Deal with it.

Also, before you write your comment, please write what you like about the story or what you don\'t - not just 'It\'s good'.

Ok, sorry, sir. I think it\'s very detailed.

[Radion]

Spectacularly written! I have a feeling though that SirLord Ping III has a slight narcissistic tendancy, specifically with foreigners, judging by his constant praising of Makavi and the whole 'Barrett fellow still weeps and bows before me every night, begging for mercy' bit. Well done, overall.

[ping111]

Spectacularly written! I have a feeling though that SirLord Ping III has a slight narcissistic tendancy, specifically with foreigners, judging by his constant praising of Makavi and the whole 'Barrett fellow still weeps and bows before me every night, begging for mercy' bit. Well done, overall.

No, he\'s actually insecure. However, lore goes that the Sovereigns, seeing how they are white, are actually kind of messengers/messiahs, if you see what I mean. He just regresses to narcissism when he is feeling unsure or insecure.