They rode on and the sun in the east flushed pale streaks of light and then a deeper run of color like blood seeping up in sudden reaches flaring planewise and where the earth drained up into the sky at the edge of creation the top of the sun rose out of nothing like the head of a great red phallus until it cleared the unseen rim and sat squat and pulsing and malevolent behind them. The shadows of the smallest stones lay like pencil lines across the sand and the shapes of the men and their mounts advanced elongate before them like strands of the night from which they'd ridden, like tentacles to bind them to the darkness yet to come.
In Cormac McCarthy's "Blood Meridian," the scene unfolds as the sun rises in the east, casting light across the landscape. The early light is described as a pale streak that deepens into a vivid, blood-like color, symbolizing the raw power of nature. This intense imagery conveys a sense of foreboding as the sun emerges from the horizon, taking on a malignant presence that looms over the characters, suggesting a looming threat in their journey.
The shadows created by small stones form sharp outlines on the sand, while the silhouettes of men and their horses stretch out before them. This depiction illustrates their link to the darkness they have just left and hints at the challenges that await them. The comparison to tentacles underscores a feeling of inescapable fate, binding them to the ominous future represented by the encroaching light and the vast, unforgiving landscape they traverse.
