The place has seen better days. Not in terms of ruin - the place was bare, darkness hugging it like a worried mother hugs her child every minute of the day. On normal days it was bare, devoid of any hills or mountains, making it seem like an abyss.
But this time, everything is soaking wet. It could even be called a bog at this point, with all its grassy, muddy glory. Except... the water is clear. It may look obsidian black, but when you put your hand in it you can see it's crystal clear.
The air feels like colored static - sharp, gravelly as it travels down my throat, smelling of nothing.
A deep, low hum is all that can be heard. No animals, nothing.
The sky, black as the ground itself, flows above like an ocean on a calm day. A few white dots decorate it, imitating the stars we see at night. I don't know if they really are stars too, though.
Sometimes a few bright lines zigzag around. You could call it lightning, but it's not what it is. I'm not sure what ut really is, but I know it's not that.
A gentle gust makes the tallish grass sway. Silently, like it's afraid it'll disturb the peace of the land.