He goes barefoot into the meaty darkness. Beneath him the water holds a shattered plate of light, a warped version of the hole he’s just come through. Inside the tank the air is not breathing. He holds his breath too. He doesn’t hear his father outside, or any other sound. Not even a crow or one of the dogs barking. They’ve all frozen.
Gone, Jennifer Mills
Consider the sentence “he goes barefoot into the meaty darkness” with me for a moment. I cannot wait to read this novel.