Dark Night

It was a dark, cloudy, moonlit, stormy, windy, bleak night... (hold on, too many adjectives, that's getting confusing, better not use them all up in the first sentence).

It was a dark night. (That's better, brief and to the point. Oh bugger, dark night ? That's redundant, surely, they're all dark. Let's start again).

It was a clear, cloudless night (that's better, I could go with that). The rain fell heavily on the figure crouched in the churchyard. (Ooh, I like it. Good atmosphere. Hang on, it's cloudless, where's the rain coming from ?).

It was a cool, cloudy night. The rain fell heavily on the small dark figure crouched in the churchyard. As he stood between the gravestones, he could see the shadows they cast from the moonlight, stretching across the damp (damp, good, remembered the rain this time) grass. He stepped cautiously from behind the monument, conscious of his own conspicuous shadow as it moved before him (hell's teeth, the bloody shadows ! I've already said it's cloudy and raining, so where are they going to come from ?)

It was a cool, cloudy night. The rain fell heavily on the small dark figure crouched in the churchyard. As he stood between the gravestones, he was grateful for the lack of moonlight and shadows that would have betrayed his presence. He stepped cautiously from behind the monument, feet sinking slowly into the damp grass as he moved towards the church. His eyes focussed on the door, trying to ascertain if the heavy padlock that usually secured it was in place. He glanced from side to side as he crept, looking and listening at the same time for any sounds, any indication that he was not alone.(Woah, woah, he's staring at the door AND glancing from side to side ? Make your bloody mind up).

It was a cool, cloudy night. The rain fell heavily on the small dark figure crouched in the churchyard. As he stood between the gravestones, he was grateful for the lack of moonlight and shadows that would have betrayed his presence. He stepped cautiously from behind the monument, feet sinking slowly into the damp grass as he moved towards the church. After glancing from side to side, looking and listening at the same time for any sounds, for any indication that he was not alone, his eyes focused on the door, trying to ascertain if the heavy padlock that usually secured it was in place. He ducked his bulky frame into the small porch, trying to get as much cover as possible from the intensifying downpour, and removed a small set of lockpicks from his overcoat. (Hang on, this guy's small...but he's bulky ? OK, but that's possible, though - he could be short and wide. Think I can get away with that. He'd be ducking to stop rain drizzling down his neck anyway, however tall he was).

(Hold on, bugger this, it's all getting a bit tricky, let's just get straight to the point. Who'd be a flamin' writer ?).

There was this bloke, right, and he crept into a church at night, 'cos it was dark then, broke in, nicked all the silver and flogged it so he could buy beer and drugs. End of.