The Faded Attic
The Black Belt of Alabama stretched out under a sky the color of bruised iron, a vast, quiet expanse where the cotton fields lay dormant and the wind moved through the dry stalks with a sound like distant, rustling paper. In the center of this silence stood the old plantation house, its columns white against the darkening earth, and within its grand hall, Fritz Laraque stood rigid, his hands...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews