The Blood Oak
The Blood Oak The oak tree wept red sap like a wound that would not close. Crawford Beauregard III stood beneath it on the veranda of the Beauregard plantation house, his prosthetic leg pressed against the rotting floorboards, watching the Louisiana rain turn the yard into a swamp of red clay and magnolia petals. He had been home from Korea three weeks. The leg was a gift from the Veterans...
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