The House of Seven Coils
The Beauregard plantation house sat on a hill above Natchez like a rotting tooth in a dead man's mouth. White pillars, once proud, now sagged under the weight of Spanish moss and three generations of debt. The lawn was overgrown with things that grew only in ground that had been fed by too much blood.Walter Beauregard walked the porch every evening at dusk, bourbon in a glass that had belonged...
0 Commentarii 0 Distribuiri 2 Views 0 previzualizare