Books Like Flowers In The Attic Novels & Stories

(Violet's POV) The gardens had quickly become a place of refuge for me from the glaring cold of the mansion. Since it was made clear I'm not allowed to leave without prior permission, the beauty of the many colorful flowers eased my anxiety. “Slightly,” I smugly think as Leo's face pops into my head. Thanks to him, I now have my mother's journal, which I keep safely tucked under my mattress to avoid the prying eyes of a certain aunt. “Vee!” I hear her call from behind. Aunt Bella is almost incapable of speaking to me without raising her voice. It's as if the sight of me infuriates her for some reason, not that becoming close is a major concern of mine.

I refused to join them because I don't like to pretend I was enjoying a vacation when I have a lot of things going on in my mind. I started reading the book Aae left as a gift for Christmas. He went home while Tita Annly spent the breaks at the hospital. Like me, she's not fond of celebrating. I just visited the church during Christmas Eve and watched the fireworks outside the porch. It was sad, but I like it. I made a lot of realizations these past few days. I already touched the soft edge of the book when my eyes caught a glimpse of the flower pot near my coffee. The pink-fern like petals were swaying a little as the wind brushed against my hair.

I knew my mom would be pissed that I was even considering marrying this man, but the thought of him with someone else made a ball of furious rage form in my chest. I swallow as we stop in front of a high entry way covered by hanging flowers. "Have fun, Lady Delilah." I smile at Chepi and walk through the flowers. Here we go. The greenhouse was probably twenty feet by twenty feet, with rounded edges rather than squared like the rest of the rooms. The ceiling was replaced with a crisscrossing wood pattern, no glass though, just vines and flowers and moss climbing over the wood. I wondered if it'd form a natural roof one day. The sides of the room have rows of seedlings just barely sprouting, f

“You know there is a special meaning of that flower. That flower only blooms during winter and it means love and someone I know said that it is a perfect gift for a partner during winter so, please accepts it. I don’t know what to say so I just hugged him and grab the flower in his hand. “Thank you so much” I cried. I can’t help but to cry because this flower is much related to us. A flower that blooms in winter. This is the idea I write in the paper. This book is entitled “The flower will bloom in winter”. Oh yeah I already did mention the book before so, yeah, I don’t know if I am going to write a tragic one but I want it to be fluff.

Like this simple run to a storage unit to collect a baby book. Another minute passes while we wait for Pearl and I contemplate how dead the flowers are in the pots down below. It's gotten to the point I don't pay attention anymore. The big overflowing flowerpots blend into the background when I walk into the building. Eventually, right as I'm in the middle of mentally calculating the number of pots she's cleaning, there's a knock on the door and Winnie jumps up to answer it for Katy and Pearl.

I sat down on the quilted blanket which covered her bed and looked about, taking in her neatly organised dressing table, the pile of books next to the small armchair which faced the window, and the thick, leather bound book next to her bed. I picked up the book and stroked the leather cover before I flipped it open and stared at the pressed flower on the page - a daffodil. Flipping through the book I noticed the pages filled with pressed flowers of every type, their names written in elaborate writing beside them. No matter what had happened over the years, a piece of April still remained in Harley and that made me smile. My phone rang and I set the book back, answering the call.

"Hehe, I knew you were the best!" We laughed and joked around until the afternoon before having dinner together. Only then did I finally head home. At the entrance, Lucas stood there holding a bouquet of roses, looking at me with hopeful eyes. I rolled my eyes, turned on my heels, and walked away in my high heels while simultaneously calling a moving company to pack my belongings. Lucas hurried after me and blocked my path. "Jessica, I made reservations at your favorite restaurant. I even bought your favorite red roses."

“Past me was so helpful.” I tore the flap open and dug inside—old books, loose beads from a broken bracelet, a cracked snow globe, and an old notebook from my late teenage years. No balm. I let out another irritated sigh, pressing my palm against my forehead. The attic was already warm, and the more I moved, the more suffocating it felt. “Ouch—okay, okay, bad idea,” I hissed through my teeth, readjusting my stance. “Just… stay still. Goddess, just work with me.”

There’s no better friend than a young beauty that shares my taste in books! -That’s so generous of you Madame! -Hell, why do you both speak as two characters running away from a medieval novel? Mielle just ruined the mood. Flora laughed and went in searching for a book in her bag. Meanwhile, Mielle whispered something to the lady behind Flora’s back. Amélie excused herself after borrowing an Agatha Christie book Flora gave her and headed to her suit. Her two pretty maids were waiting for her: -Lola, Sophie. I am back.

I said, disappointed we hadn’t been able to interrogate anyone. My mother wasn’t deterred. “Reach out to the other packs while you are trying to get to the bottom of why.” She stood and walked over to the large wall of books. Thumbing over the spines, she pulled out a book and opened it carefully. I stood and peered inside. A dried flower lay on the pages, delicate and brittle. It was golden with five leaflets, the central three held above the rest. A jolt went through me. “Where did you get that?” My voice sounded hoarse, and she shot me a look.