Flowers In The Attic Petals In The Wind Book Romane & Geschichten

Lilith sat cross-legged on her bed, engrossed in the pages of a captivating book. Her face was buried within its depths as she lost herself in the world of words. The room was quiet, save for the rustling of pages and the occasional sound of her breath. Suddenly, a gust of wind whistled through the room, causing the curtains to billow and dance. Lith looked up, her eyes widening in surprise, as the window that had always been locked swung open with a creak. The wind seemed to beckon her, inviting her to embrace the unknown that lay beyond.

To others. “What are you waiting for?” His voice slices through my silence, playful again. “I gave you the key. Go on, Petal. See what’s waiting.” The nickname sends warmth up my spine. With a fluttering heart, I ascend the staircase, each step echoing in the quiet. The attic door is old, its iron handle cool beneath my hand. I slide the key into the lock. Click. The door swings open with a creak like the sigh of something ancient. Dust glimmers in the golden light as I step into the attic. What I find here... I already know, somehow, will change everything.

The autumn afternoon sky was just as blue as germ, as clear and vast as a high-class silk. The cool wind gently blew around, caressing the young woman's face, pouring a creamy pink-orange color on her cheeks. The back garden of the Watterson's mansion was still as in her old memory, splendid and full of colors of fragrant flowers and white candles.

I sat with that for a while and did not rush the conclusion. A cigarette. The small ritual of it, the amber light of the ember in the dark of the room, the particular quality of thinking that came with something occupying the hands and leaving the mind to move. The grounds outside the window had gone fully dark, the late autumn dark that had weight to it, pressing against the glass. The compound was at its quietest. The second watch change had come and gone and the rotation had settled and the night had reached the hour when even the most alert among us began to trust the silence. She had not moved.

Again, there was that insufferable delight that most kids can display when they think they know something you don’t. “Is that really what’s happening? You just let your thoughts fill in the holes.” It was perfectly dark as he opened the door to the attic room, but as the air became disturbed, Ed could hear a gentle clattering like dry bones in thin bags swaying in the wind. Ed would have pulled away if he could, but the tiny unyielding fingers pulled him into the darkness. *** .

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.

There was still so much she didn’t understand. One morning, as she walked into his office, she noticed the petals again—this time, they were scattered across his desk. The rose petals, glowing softly in the early light, looked almost delicate. She frowned as she brushed them aside, trying to focus on the task. But as she moved the petals, something caught her eye on the shelf behind the desk. A book. It was old, the cover worn with time, and it seemed to call out to her, pulling her attention away from the petals for a moment.

♱ •⋅ 1750 B.C. ⋅• ♱ •⋅ Loren ⋅• ♱ Daffodils uncle had said and when I looked in the book with beautiful illustrations that dad had given me, I found a great picture of how the flower looked. A flower with six petals, in its center, was like a cup full of dots. It was beautiful, very beautiful, but the book said they were yellow and white. "Hummm..." sighed "I’m sure I’ve seen this flower before..." I muttered and my "nanny" waiting in the corner smiled.

I might have the perfect idea after this scandalous situation. "I thought of something we can do for the project," I say, still looking at the front. "Have you ever watched Beauty and the Beast?" I glance at him from the corner of my eye and he nods his head. He leans closer, his hands resting on his thighs. "That flower, with the falling petals. We could make a rose. A petal can float in the air, like the wind blowing the petal, for everyone who left our life. For everyone that died, a petal will lay on the ground. Just black and white," I say and finally turn my head to look back at him.