Miranda Everlasting

The cemetery is covered with moss, the unkept crypts swathed in lichen. The Spanish Mass hangs from every tree, creating shadows that hide and block the pathways. At three forty-three in the morning of 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?"

The workmen stopped, staring at the young'un. Albee saved the boy from scorn.

"Marie Catherine Laveau was the VooDoo Queen of New Orleans in your grandfather's time. It is not good to speak of the dead. Especially a dead voodoo queen.

"My mother's name was Marie. That is all I know. Mister LaLonde's grandfather used to like to brag that he knew Marie Laveau. He used to brag that he bought me from her. But I was born after the Emancipation."

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

"Overall, I thoroughly enjoyed the book.  This wouldn't have been one I'd pick off the shelf for myself, so thank you for the experience." – Seth.

"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