The Vault of the Living
ACT I The house on Bayou Teche had been dying for a long time before Bell Thorne returned to it. It was a plantation house in the traditional sense only in that it had once been large enough to embarrass its owners and old enough to have stopped caring about embarrassment. The porches sagged. The cypress trees in the yard had grown so tall that their aerial roots hung like the hair of drowned...
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