The people are all ghouls, and everything is ghostly.

Everything is a ghoulish replica of the real world, a replica, a ghoul, all soiled, everything sordid.

It's like being mad, Ursula.' The sisters were crossing a black path through a dark, soiled field.

On the left was a large landscape, a valley with collieries, and opposite hills with cornfields and woods, all blackened with distance, as if seen through a veil of crape.

White and black smoke rose up in steady columns, magic within the dark air.