A white cone is smashed up against my face, and I blink and study it, seeing a woven surface.

It was perfectly symmetrical, a steep, white cone with sharply sloping sides.

This level of transparent colors was bisected by an opaque white cone.

Enough light was cast by the white cone to illuminate the dead face.

A glossy white cone about two meters tall rose out of the water.

A brilliant white cone of light was following Jim's pick-up out into the desert.

Hands moved forward into the white cone of brilliance.

The light cast a white, vivid cone that threw every object in its path into dazzling silhouette.

From the man's hand burst sparkling frost, a white cone that spread, roaring as it closed on the beautiful woman.

Above the horizon, ghostly in its detachment, floated a white cone.