Gliding through the midnight sky, the violet jester twirls into a dazzling array of sparking dust that can only be compared to the lining of stars in the pitch-black heavens; then feeling a bit dizzy he swoops down among the city towers, weaving in and out of the steeples and rooftops, his waistcoat, embedded with golden stars and held in place by the crimson beveled crystal at the center of his chest, flaps in the breeze of the snowy winter air, as if wings had sprouted from his back. The King of the Twilight, a benevolent demon of nightmares, spies his favorite old clock tower, its face glowing with the brightness of the moon, and flying to the tip of the spire to perch like a statue, he brings his invisible flute to his lips, creating the harmonious music of the night that sends the world into a peaceful slumber.
A/N: This was for an assignment I had to do for English class way back in 2007 or 2008. The assignment was… ah, writing prose with extremely long sentences, or something like that. Even though I got an A on it, I've been worried about posting it online because I'm afraid of what the fans will think. Just… don't be harsh, kay?