Fo Miranda

The unkept crypts are swathed in lichen. The Spanish Moss creates shadows that hide the pathways. On the first new moon following Miranda's internment, the workers Albee hired were following her orders without complaint.

"That one. Slide it down, the long ways."

"Hey, Miss Albee, what is that guitar for? How come it ain't got no strings?"

"Never you mind that. Put your shoulder into it, move that cover down, I need to open the coffin."

"Hey, Miss Albee, is it true your mother was Marie Laveau?"

"Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows it, Miss Albee."

"If everyone knows it, why are you asking?"

The youngest of the three hired helpers spoke for the first time.

"Who is Marie Laveau?"

Seeing the sarcophagus cover moved far enough to allow access to the coffin, Albee stopped talking. Waving the workers back, she stepped to the side of the concrete box.

Using a prybar, she opened the coffin and pulled the wooden lid high enough to see the child's gray face.

She was a beautiful child.

Praise for Miranda Everlasting

"Excellent characters! Great read." – Mike
 
"The language allowed me to clearly visualize the Southern setting and feel for the struggling family dynamics throughout… you'll really dig this story. Would recommend!" – Lizzie

"A fascinating story of what is possible. Maybe." – Beta Reader