The Full Moon's Syndrome

Author Note: I wrote back when I was 12! Please expect the waste of ink and code below to be bad.

On the night of the full moon, it was a stormy night in this broken down, blood-curdling mansion. It was once home to the Nightingale family. It had a nightmarish backstory, and it was destroyed by Lord Nightingale himself, but part of it still stands today. The rain hit against the dull, shattered windows and was getting through them. The misty, grey clouds veiled the luminous moon’s beautiful glow. I woke up to the moon gazing down at me, while I layed on glittering glass shards and decaying wood.

I did not know why, but I had no control over my body. It was as if I was being controlled by some imaginary puppeteer. Only my intentions and what's left mind were the last things I could control. I looked down and stared at my hands, they were shaking subconsciously. I failed to raise my hand and check my forehead to see if I had a fever. My hands just wouldn’t budge at all. After what felt like an eternity, I finally lifted my hand and gently touched my forehead. There was no fever, yet my mind couldn't seem to co-ordinate my body correctly.

As the stars faded into the void, I eventually stood up and started to stumble sluggishly. Even moving around was difficult for me due to the soreness. It was hard to start walking under glass which was crunching under my shoes. I left that damned place and heard an ambience in the far distance which sounded like a group of instruments being played at once. I was in the path between a thriving place and a dilapidated Mansion. The strange melody of intruments harmonised together, like a chorus of sirens singing a melancholic elegy.

Suddenly, my body limped towards the melody against my own will. Someone is co-ordinating this sinister melody, and I hate how it's calling for what's left of my conscience. This blinding light keeps getting bigger, and the melody only becomes overwhelmingly louder. My ears are ringing, but the body that I'm supposed to be controlling doesn't seem to care. My vision started to warp awfully. I can't see anything, besides some figure with a cruel smirk on his face. I'm still conscious, why does he look at me like I'm some sort of a test subject?

"Glad to see you, entity 081."

A sharp pain and blinding light follows shortly after. That person just shot me. There goes what's left of my life. I stared up at the full moon, in shock as I had to endure hearing the words "zombie" and "inhumane" until everything faded to black.