I was born in Prattville, Alabama. This creek you see behind me is just one of the many places I would sneak off to so I could be alone. It was quiet and I could read my books there. My Dad say's he use to fish in it when he was young.
Prattville was named after its founder Daniel Pratt. Here is a picture of the waterway where the old cotton gin use to stand.
More of the gin and a monument to Mr. Pratt.
Spanish Moss is everywhere here. So are tales of haunted houses. Doesn't this just scream GHOST.
Legend has it this house is still haunted by a civil war confederate soldier. It looks like it.
I love old southern plantation homes. You can almost feel the history as you look at them.
Old cemetery's can be a historic look into our past.
This poor man's name is gone, but he was "a colored man of God" and a confederate soldier.
Finding solitude in a place like this, it's no wonder I write suspense!!
