Suddenly he slowed, floated for a moment, then turned heels over head and plunged downward at a rate as exhilarating as it was alarming. The earth rose to meet him; he thought he’d be dashed to pieces, but instead he landed gently in the long, soft grass of a meadow. He knew the place—the open stretch behind Mr. and Mrs. Kohlmeier’s little house in Gosport, just a short walk from his brother Etilmon’s farm. A woman stood beside him. Sarah. All Stark’s life, he’d pooh-poohed the notion of an afterlife as just so much poppycock, but if this wasn’t heaven, what was it? The woman leaned over him. “Dad, you’re awake.” Stark blinked several times, then said, foolishly, “Nell?” She clutched his hand. “Yes, who else?” “Of course. I was…confused.” He looked past her, tried to sit, then groaned, grabbed at the top of his head, and sank back into the pillow. Moving only his eyes, he saw he was in some sort of large room with beds set around the perimeter, most of them occupied, one with a white folding screen set around it.
What do You think about The King Of Ragtime (2011)?
