Flowers In The Attic Novels & Stories

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

Callie opened her eyes and she was inside the attic, she looked around and realized it wasn’t hers but she also recognized it. She had been there before. It looked like the same attic where she saw the boy with the green eyes, she spun around and saw a mirror with bronze framing, it had carvings all over it. She walked over curious, her fingers traced all over the carvings committing everything to memory. It was very fine work and she smiled her eyes appreciating it. She took a step back and decided to explore the rest of the attic.

Ben stood in front of the door, placing his hand on the doorknob, and looked at Isabella and Rose. "Are you ready?" Ben asked. Isabella nodded firmly, even though her heart raced. Rose looked nervous but said nothing and stood beside Isabella. Ben turned the doorknob, and with a creaking sound of old wood, the attic door slowly opened... Ben slowly opened the attic door, the creaking of the old wood seemed to emphasize the eerie atmosphere surrounding them. Isabella stood behind Ben, her feelings a mix of fear and curiosity. Next to her, Rose clutched her hands tightly, unable to hide her anxiety.

She believes she is successful in making some progress with it. "You are very young my child. And you have your whole life awaiting you with blissful events. Trust me on this." Agatha placed a small kiss on her forehead affectionately earning a subtle smile from her. Rose made themselves a pistachio latte and brought it to the backyard garden. She had grown various flowers like chrysanthemums, lilies, orchids and some pink tulips in there. Agatha, being a flower shop owner, and Rose, a lover of plants, were a golden match indeed. Agatha's small flower shop has increased its sales rapidly with the help of Rose's dedication and knowledge behind the curtains. Everyone around Rose is to be benef

All of these were forming a montage in his head, an orgy of images driving him crazy, guiding his hand to his glass, to meet his mouth, to take all the scotch left, and to finish it before he landed himself back onto his seat. "How are you, Gina?" he managed. Again, he lifted his glass to drink his scotch. It was empty, of course. Gina noticed all of this. She smiled sweetly at him. At night, Eggs and Flowers was set differently. If it was filled with elegant vivacity and brightness both from the day's sun and the lighting that coupled it for breakfast time, in the evening it took on a drastic change. The lighting turned down low with the flicker of candles lighting up every fine linen-cloth

And once more, I find myself in an attic space. Silver moonbeams slit down through a tiny skylight, only the size of a couple of the slates. The light is filtered as it crawls through the moss and slime encrusted glass. A curved crack across the glass has been letting in the rain and directly underneath, more of the fungi sit like roughly stacked plates on what passes for the floor.

I wore only shorts and a vest top, Gen assuring me the attic was far too warm to need anything else. The attic room was musty and dark. It didn’t have a nice warm fire or cosy sofas to lounge in. The warmth came from the huge stone brick chimney that rose up the centre of the space. A stack of books and a huge comfortable bed were the only positives about having swapped my room. I began to curse my good nature in agreeing to this madness of Gen’s.

Bearing down on his elbow, he pulled himself further until he could hinge at the waist and lay his entire upper torso on the dusty floor and crawl along until his legs were also through the opening. He lay there for a moment, letting his breath fall back into its normal rhythm, then raised his head to scan his surroundings. The attic was large but the ceiling was low, maybe five feet from floor to rafters, not even enough space for Patrick to stand upright. Except for a few boxes, a stack of old yellowing newspapers tied with twine, and what at first he took for some rusty fencing that he eventually recognized as a dissembled dog kennel. He could see all this because of the sunlight filterin

It’s uncomfortable for everyone involved. The protruding entrance of the quaint house was framed in rock with its own angled roof completely separate from the house itself, and it jutted upward as though pointing at the sky. The chimney, which was strategically built in the center of the front of the house, was rock as well. The walkway leading from the drive to the front entrance was adorned with arbors draped with wisteria, which at this time of year were in full bloom, the aroma of its grape-like flowers drifting in through the open shutter-style windows. The small garden that enveloped the walkway on either side was overflowing with azaleas of all colors, black-eyed susans, shasta daisie

The rogue roared, and I turned to see the half-finished oak wood door that leaned against the door frame, the shiny brass knob catching the falling rays of the sun almost mesmerizingly. A ton of soldiers and nursemaids had arrived at the safe house after everything that had happened and yet there was still no sign of Michael…no sign of Emily. “Where should I keep this? Your Grace?” One of the pale-faced women in a monochrome milk-maid outfit rasped behind me and I turned to see her holding a thick blue flower vase in her hands. It would go well with the chestnut wood walls of my room. “Up in the attic, please Fiona,” I whispered, and the gaunt maid with wispy blonde hair and baby blue eyes n