Page #113

Dead, dead thought Will. But live, alive! cried the machines, cried flame and fire cried mouths of crowds of livid beasts on illustrated flesh.

  So the old man's hair stood up in prickling fumes. Sparks, bled from his fingernails, dripped seething spatters on pine planks. Green simmerings wove shuttles through dead eyelids.

  The Illustrated man bent violently above the old dead dead thing, his prides of beasts drowned deep in sweat, his right hand thrust in hammering demand upon the air: Live, live.

I like how the author personifies Mr. Dark's tattoos here. It gives a sense of how many he has and how detailed they are without just saying that. Also, when he describes the electricity like that, it gives an eerie but fascinating feeling. Like Jim and Will probably felt while watching it.