The Garden of Ghosts
I The cicadas screamed in the July heat, a sound like the earth itself was groaning under the weight of something ancient and unburied. Silas Hathaway stood at the gate of the family cemetery, looking at the overgrown cypress trees and the crooked headstones that marked the graves of people who had died carrying secrets too heavy for the living. The Hathaway plantation had been dying for sixty...
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