The Flowers in the Attic Series: The Dollangangers: Flowers in the Attic, Petals on the Wind, If There Be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and a New Excerpt!
Authors: V.C. Andrews
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V.C. Andrews
Flowers in the Attic Series:
The Dollangangers
Pocket Star Books
New York London Toronto Sydney New Delhi
Christopher’s Exploration and Its Repercussions
The Long Winter, and Spring, and Summer
Color All Days Blue, But Save One for Black
Foxworth Hall, from the Outside
The Siren Call of the Mountains
Be sure to click through after
SEEDS OF YESTERDAY
For a sneak peek at the next
V.C. Andrews novel
FORBIDDEN SISTER
Available February 2013 from Gallery Books
This book is dedicated to my mother.
Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, What makest thou?
Isaiah 45:9
I
t is so appropriate to color hope yellow, like that sun we seldom saw. And as I begin to copy from the old memorandum journals that I kept for so long, a title comes as if inspired.
Open the Window and Stand in the Sunshine.
Yet, I hesitate to name our story that. For I think of us more as flowers in the attic. Paper flowers. Born so brightly colored, and fading duller through all those long, grim, dreary, nightmarish days when we were held prisoners of hope, and kept captives by greed. But, we were never to color even one of our paper blossoms yellow.
Charles Dickens would often start his novels with the birth of the protagonist and, being a favorite author of both mine and Chris’s, I would duplicate his style—if I could. But he was a genius born to write without difficulty while I find every word I put down, I put down with tears, with bitter blood, with sour gall, well mixed and blended with shame and guilt. I thought I would never feel ashamed or guilty, that these were burdens for others to bear. Years have passed and I am older and wiser now, accepting, too. The tempest of rage that once stormed within me has simmered down so I can write, I hope, with truth and with
less hatred and prejudice than would have been the case a few years ago.
So, like Charles Dickens, in this work of “fiction” I will hide myself away behind a false name, and live in fake places, and I will pray to God that those who should will hurt when they read what I have to say. Certainly God in his infinite mercy will see that some understanding publisher will put my words in a book, and help grind the knife that I hope to wield.