The Lunar Effect

- Taking a break from all this untitled story business (finished the second chapter), here's something I wrote a year or so ago, titled the lunar effect. I believe it was for a contest or something. Anyway, enjoy. Or pretend to ---- They say that when the full moon is out, that people act strangely, that for one reason or another a full moon is cause of odd and deviant behaviour in people. They call it the lunar effect. Amadeus thought about this as he walked the streets, his head bent downwards, looking at the randomly scattered puddles on the road, reflecting the moonlight from above. His feet hit the cobblestones gently, but the sound they made against the eerie silence of the night was louder than any festival or carnival. It was one of those quiet nights where no one was out, where people were already asleep, or downstairs playing a quiet game, as a family around the dining room table, or in the living room. Amadeus liked it better that way. He liked being alone, especially at night, where he would get a lot of thinking done. His walks helped him relax and think of other things. He had an umbrella in his hand, and its primary function appeared to be to cover Amadeus in so many shadows his face was almost imperceptible. The moonlight added a pale gray glow to the night, and those who didn’t mind the full moon found this to be a most romantic thing. The stars were at their brightest. This was certainly a fine night for love. Amadeus certainly thought so. He was a romantic, and liked things as they had always been. Classical was such a … well, classic word. There was a woman on the bench, in the middle of the park. She sat, with her legs crossed and her arms placed gently on her knee. She had an emotionless, patient look on her face. Amadeus approached her, and sat down on the bench next to her. “This is a fine night for romance,” he said, taking a rose out of the shadows where his breast pocket was, and offered it to her. The woman glanced at it and took it from him. She smiled. “It is certainly a most beautiful night,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Yes. A night,” and here he put his umbrella down, “for lunacy.” She looked at him, and smiled. They kissed, almost devouring each other… … They say when the full moon is out, that people show who they really are, that they come out of their own skins, so to speak. Amadeus went home. He left his umbrella at the park bench. All the way back home, and Amadeus could feel the sun, slowly creeping up behind him. ---