Here's a snippet from a story I tried writing back in High School. The original draft was never quite finished, and this is version 2.0 from ... wow ... from 2002. From reading back over it I can tell I'd rewrite it, but the flow and spirit is still there.
Rays of moonlight painted the side of the palace like strands of the Almighty’s great paintbrush. A cool breeze in from the mountains stirred outside the main gates, forcing the guardsmen to adjust the lay of their heavy robes. Silently, a shadow drifted past closed storefronts and between the boxes aligned on the street for the next day’s recycling. The shadow seemed to tiptoe behind the first guard, mocking his inattention. A whisper floated along the wind, and the guard dropped and disappeared into the shadow. The second guard shivered at the foul whisper in the breeze and chuckled to himself to break the tension. He turned to his companion to share the joke just in time to see his own fate pounce.
The shadow drifted unhampered past where the guards had been and slipped elegantly through the gates and past the palace’s high walls. Ghostly footsteps echoed faintly and then more noticeable on the marble walkway as Ker Nasad Alchar removed the hood of his inky black cloak, a pentalla. Walking through the open door of the palace, he smiled to himself, reveling once again at the simplicity of his plan.
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