The Corridors of Time (2011)
“First he was music, the most gentle and beautiful melody that ever had been, which with a drowsy delight he knew for Sheep May Safely Graze. Then he was also a scent of roses, a yielding firmness under his back, a body at peace with itself. He opened his eyes to sunlight.
‘Good mornin’, Malcolm Lockridge,’ said a man. ‘You are with friends,’ said a woman. They spoke Kentucky English.
He sat up. They had laid him on a couch in a maple-paneled room. There was little decoration, except for... a screen where colors played through soft strange shapes, but the proportions were so right that nothing else was needed. Beyond an unclosed doorway he saw a garden. Flowers grew along graveled walks and willows shaded a lilypond from the heat of high summer. On the far side of a turf-green lane stood another house, small, bedecked with honeysuckle, simply and sweetly curved.
The man and woman stepped close. They were both tall, somewhat past their youth but still with backs erect and muscles hard.MoreLess
‘Good mornin’, Malcolm Lockridge,’ said a man. ‘You are with friends,’ said a woman. They spoke Kentucky English.
He sat up. They had laid him on a couch in a maple-paneled room. There was little decoration, except for... a screen where colors played through soft strange shapes, but the proportions were so right that nothing else was needed. Beyond an unclosed doorway he saw a garden. Flowers grew along graveled walks and willows shaded a lilypond from the heat of high summer. On the far side of a turf-green lane stood another house, small, bedecked with honeysuckle, simply and sweetly curved.
The man and woman stepped close. They were both tall, somewhat past their youth but still with backs erect and muscles hard.MoreLess
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