Flower In The Attic Book Novels & Stories

Jenson’s shaky voice suddenly echoed in Rose’s head. Unable to sleep, Rose got up and dressed herself. Then, she tiptoed up the stairs. Jenson was not the only one panicking about the secret behind the attic, for it agitated her as well. Who was the woman in the attic? … As the Fragrant Vessel Court was built following the characteristics of classical overlapping architectures, its rooms were built intricately and were naturally dim. Pushing open the door in front of the handrail, Rose entered the room and closed the door behind her.

I heard Papa calling from downstairs, but I couldn’t stop. “Come on, Brigid! We will get in trouble if they find us up here!” Aisling pulled at my arm before starting to put the candles, herbs, vials, and crystals back in the chest. My hands kept on with their task. I turned the crescent moon back before I opened the cover of the book. Thick black smoke began to pour out of the book. Aisling screamed from behind me. I heard Papa running towards us and clambering up the ladder to the attic.

I would make everything worse if I did. I only tried to change my action a little for the sake of achieving my plans yet, I received attention, the character’s actions diverted from the original storyline, and what’s worst was one of my targets suffered. There was a new place in this mansion, I discovered. It was none other than our library that led to the attic! It has various selections of books with different topics such as politics, history, and even novels. When I asked the butler, he said there were more than a thousand books in a two-story facility.

As I pushed open the creaking attic door, a hushed silence enveloped me, broken only by the faint rustle of pages and the distant echoes of a forgotten world. The room before me was a sanctuary of knowledge, a treasure trove of dreams waiting to be unlocked. My eyes widened, taking in the sight that unfolded before me. Tall shelves, adorned with elegant engravings, reached towards the heavens, seemingly infinite in their reach. Books of all shapes and sizes stood proudly, their spines beckoning me closer. The scent of old parchment and ink infused the air, embracing me like a long-lost friend.

“I told you what I needed to say. Go enjoy your Valentine’s Day gift, little flower.” I blush at the nickname before nodding and heading towards the attic. I hesitate in the doorway, looking at the beautiful little key before sliding it into the lock. The door swings open with a soft ‘click.’

WHERE IS SHE? That's when the door to the staircase that would lead to the attic caught my eye. I walked there, finding it ajar, which was strange, we always kept it tightly closed since Rose claimed that place was horrifying, like everything else in that house. I climbed the stairs already preparing myself for what I would find upstairs. Rose was curled up on an old couch that we had taken out of the living room to put a more comfortable option, her red and swollen eyes focused on me, displaying a pain that broke me for a few seconds, making me hesitate to approach.

I caught the sight of her exposed thigh from the slit dress she wore, and I could feel my heart racing faster. I stood up abruptly, presenting the flowers to her as a way of hiding the enormous nervousness I felt. “Sunflowers for a lady who is as beautiful and bright as the sun" “With all pleasure, sire" Natalie said, receiving the flowers. “Thank you so much Maurice, the massage, I feel better now" I kissed her hands while she smelt the flowers. “Let's eat Nat, it's getting late. Tell me about Letticia, your new friend!"

Flora just stays perfectly still, raising an eyebrow at Athena. “Mama, she needs to heal and leave her house.” Athena says matter of fact. Elira chokes on air, making us look at her. She explains that Flora is her little sister and their parents aren’t good people, which is why she wants Flora to be our nanny and to live here. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

I followed at a more normal pace, because unlike him, I wasn’t desperate to hear gossip like a bored housewife. The attic smelled faintly of dried herbs and fresh earth from the gardens below. It had always been a quiet little hideaway — wide windows framing the flowerbeds and trees, sunlight slanting in at just the right angle in the afternoons. Kael flopped into the cushioned bench by the largest window, gesturing for me to sit across from him. “So?” he prompted, leaning forward with elbows on knees. “How was it?” I dropped into the opposite bench and stretched my legs out, crossing them at the ankles. “Big. Elaborate. Exactly what you’d expect from Baron trying to make a statement.”

But she pressed the keys anyway, like the sound of the clacking could build rhythm where her courage hadn’t yet landed. I waited until she noticed me in the doorway before speaking. “Need paper?” She looked up, grinned sheepishly. “I’m not ready for words yet. Just the sound.” I nodded and walked in. The attic always smelled like Rachel—lavender, dust, and the faint memory of lemon tea. “You don’t have to force anything,” I said gently. “The words will find you.” “I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Of doing her wrong. Of getting it wrong.”