What's this..? is it... A new story, by KENZIE?! Why yes children, yes it is. And I do hope you thoroughly enjoy it. Right now it's just a test run. I don't know whether to keep it short? Or go long? Like, go hard or go home folks, but should I 'go hard'? That's up to you, I suppose(:

"Now, sweetheart, you don't want to be stupid and walk out that front door, do you? They'll eat you alive. Literally."

Until recently, I just thought that my mother was a little too protective, like she was worried that if I were to venture outside on my own I would be too easily persuaded by naughty teenagers sucking face with strangers. That I would soon rebel and start smoking, maybe kill somebody, who knows.

But, like the naïve little girl I was, I calmly obeyed my mother, and I would never leave the house alone, especially after the moon rises. I was to lock my windows at night, and even make sure the blinds were down. But, to me, it made sense. Why? Because my parents were so sure of it. I must've convinced myself that night-time air was potent in diseases.

But this night was different. It was my sixteenth birthday, and I was feeling curious. Mother and Father were out in the town with the neighbors. They would do this monthly, spending the whole night away, and returning in the morning with an excessive amount of supplies. Food, pens, paper, bathing goods, and lastly, ammunition.

Of course, I didn't figure out about the ammo until the shy age of twelve, when I offered to help bring the groceries in. Never seeing such things before, I asked mother for an explanation on why we needed them. She replied with "Oh, Daddy just loves to shoot his guns with his friends, well, Lizzybear, sweetie, it's a guy thing."

I believed her, that Dad just had a hobby of guns and bullets. But, my suspicion grew when I read the label carefully. "New variety pack! Ash wood, Elder wood, and Oakwood!"

To that I asked, "Mother, are these… wooden bullets?"

"Oh? Yes. They're much, much cheaper than a regular lead bullet"

And I accepted that. Mother was clever, to throw these simple, understandable reasons at a child, knowing I would devour the information, only to forget it hours later. But I, I was as inquisitive as they came. And my gut told me, 'cheaper' wasn't the only reason that there were wooden bullets in our grocery bags. My parents had plenty of money. Hell, with the amount of stuff they bring back monthly, you'd think they never knew what an empty wallet feels like.

And so, tonight, they're out, busy restocking our everlasting supplies. Maybe they'll be generous and bring back a birthday cake. Upon leaving, Mother kissed me on the forehead, like she always does before leaving the house, and whispered to me,

"Lock every door and window, make sure all the blinds are down, tonight's a full moon."

They say a full moon brings out all the crazies, the killers, the offenders, and your average joker, and that's why they're called "Luna-tics." It's a silly theory, I always thought. But, mother acted like this was straight out of her bible, saying it was a sin for your child to even see a full moon.

Honestly, if you asked me what it looked like, I couldn't tell you. I've seen illustrations, and pictures, but I've never laid eyes on the moon before. I've always had to shut everything allowing me to see the outside before the moon even showed up.

But tonight, that was changing.

I waited at least an hour after my parents left the house, silence lingering on all corners of my rooms. I took a few breaths, reassuring my antics, and walked out of my room. This wasn't a common thing for me to do, unless a parent was home. When the house was vacant, I would wait in my room all night, reading old books that mother gave me.

So, with my newfound bravery, I was slowly roaming around my small, Victorian hall house. The photos hanging on the dark walls depicted old ancestors of my family. I suppose anyway you look at it, we came from a very wealthy lineage. I stopped in front of our back door, which leads out to a small prairie area, surrounded by a tall, white, picket fence. Of course, I only know this from my early childhood, when Father would take me outside in autumn to see the leaves float away from our old Ash tree. Those days abruptly stopped when I hit the age of ten. Coincidently, also around the time when I got my first period. Once mother figured out, my time spent outside came to a bitter end. "Hormones will make a girl go crazy, and we don't want you running off" Mother would say.

The only time I'm out is the distance between our front door and Mother's Chevy traverse. I take in as much as I could of the scenery, the forest behind our house, the flowers that line our driveway, Father's SUV, which honestly scared me, the way he tinted the windows a dark, dark color, and the rest of the vehicle was black, with weird antennas sticking out of it. I loved the way the gravel crunched beneath my feet, as wooden flouring wouldn't usually make that noise. Arriving at our destination was just as thrilling. The only two places I've been is my aunt Sam's place, a little cottage in the middle of a forest, and Grandmothers log cabin, also at an unreasonably long distance from civilization. Both of them were in on the protective gene, and wouldn't let me outside.

So, back to my wondrous journey.

I stood there, motionless, staring at the back door. I could see light peering in from the bottom, beckoning at me. I took a step closer, holding my breath, eyes lock on the glow emitting from the outline of the door, almost as if the light was getting brighter with each second I stared. Another step, and I could feel my heart racing. "It's just a door, Liz, a door" I told myself. Step, step. Finally, I was in reach of the doorknob.

I extended my hand, resting my pale fingers on the golden shine of the handle. I swallowed and gripped the knob, flinching at how cold it was. Like it was a warning sign. Cold is bad, Elizabeth.

And then, like someone was waiting for me on the other side of the door, I felt the knob twist beneath my hand. I felt a bad chill creep slowly down spine, almost paralyzing me. My eyes grew wide and my hand grew frozen, when all in a split second, I felt cold. A shivering cold that I had never felt before. I had the urge to drop into fetal position and hug myself, wrap my arms around my sides, in hope for some heat, when I stopped and looked up.

The door was open.