The Faded Attic
Act I The plains stretched out like a sheet of hammered slate, flat and unyielding under the dry, cracking sky where the wheat heads bowed in the wind that never stopped. In the shadow of the plantation house, the air smelled of dust and old paper, a scent that had settled into the walls of the overseer’s quarters. Ray Ledbetter stood before the Whispering Wall, his nineteen-year-old hands...
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