The flashlight's beam ended at the burnt far edge of the door: not reflecting back or dying away, but simply going no further. Psyche's shoulder and arm, twisted up awkwardly up and back, were still fully visible, but nothing else was, not even the back side of the door.
It was an odd, living kind of darkness they were peering into - black and impenetrable, but containing a kind of not-quite-color that seemed to shift as you gazed at it; it was rather like the darkness that came when you closed your eyes in a dark room. The light might balk at entering, but it contained a kind of potentiality for light.
The silence that had come when the door opened was still there, beneath all their voices; it was spreading like a low mist in the bottom register of their hearing.
no subject
It was an odd, living kind of darkness they were peering into - black and impenetrable, but containing a kind of not-quite-color that seemed to shift as you gazed at it; it was rather like the darkness that came when you closed your eyes in a dark room. The light might balk at entering, but it contained a kind of potentiality for light.
The silence that had come when the door opened was still there, beneath all their voices; it was spreading like a low mist in the bottom register of their hearing.