Such a round moon. Trees laden to the plimsoll line with a dreaming cargo of birds. The dewy grass licked her feet like the wet tongues of small, friendly beasts; the grass seemed longer and more clinging than during the day. Her dress trailed behind her; she left a glinting track in her wake. The still air was miraculously clear. Shadowed objects—a branch, a flower—stood out with a dark precision, as if seen through water. She walked on slow, silent feet through the subaqueous night. She breathed tremulously through her mouth, tasting black wine. The lilac bushes stirred. A small, furry night animal scuttled across the lawn in front of her and vanished with a scrabbling noise into a pile of grass cuttings; the creature, whatever it was, had no more corporeal substance than windblown leaves. "I never thought the night would be like this," said Melanie aloud, in a tiny voice. She shook with ecstasy. Why? How? Beyond herself, she did not know or care. Great banks of cloud reared and dissolved in the heavens, and here and there shone a star. The world, which was only this garden, was as empty as the sky, endless as eternity.
Excerpt from The Magic Toyshop by Angela Carter.