FLOWERS IN THE ATTIC
One simple trip around your very own house can change your perspective of everything.
The Victor's Village houses were significant compared to the rest of the houses in district twelve. The houses were all taken by the first people to return to the district after the war. Most of the houses had large empty spaces with the people of twelve coming from a life of poverty and little comfort to a safe and warm place to live.
The houses were decorated different ways, inside and out. Some of the houses had lawn decorations placed in front of the house; some of the older residents had magnificent looking gardens filled with many different colours.
The neighborhood was not outside today. The weather caused games to cancel and gardens to water by themselves. The residents spent their time indoors on days like this. Inside one of these homes was a young woman with an adventurous mind.
Heather had never been in the attic before. Her parents had always told her to never go up there. But Heather was a bit of a rebel, she wanted to know what her parents were hiding from her for her whole life. What sort of past could they have that they didn't want her to know about? Being fifteen, she thought she could handle anything.
She took the ladder that she found hidden in the laundry room of the house and brought it up to the entrance of the attic. She climbed up and opened the latch. Heather than stepped inside, whipping the dust of her clothes, and looked at her parents past.
Boxes and shelves filled almost every inch of the attic, yet there was still enough space to reach every place they were kept, her father's idea, of course. Like her, he probably would come up here to remember or learn about old times.
Many of the boxes had simple words on them; kitchen, photos, baking/cooking. The boxes were all different sizes and sometimes, colours. They all had names on the except for one.
That was the one she was intrigued by the most.
Reaching on top of one of the shelves, she got a closer look at the box. It had a light pink, flowery design on it. Although this was the one that caught her eye, there were many boxes the same size that had different patterns on them. She held the miniature box in her hands to take a look for a title, none was in sight, but each flower looked as if it was hand-painted. It was beautiful.
Heather opened the box. It was filled with small items, mainly pictures and drawings. But it also had real objects like a blue piece of fabric, a ribbon and a bell, and a duck feather. Heather then found the label on the box on the inside under the lid; it said one word carefully written in bright purple paint, Primrose.
Heather began to look through the photos that were at the bottom of the box. They were all pictures of this one little girl, who looked to be about twelve in the most recent picture. Occasionally there was a picture of her with this mangy looking cat, and sometimes there was a strange goat next to her. She was a very pretty little girl; she had long blond hair and beautiful blue eyes.
Then Heather found a drawing of the girl with three other people all smiling happily as if smiling for a real photo, not just a drawing. One man, and two other women, the very detail on all of their faces made it completely recognizable of who these women were.
The older looking one was the exact version of a very young grandmother of Heather's. She was very beautiful, and looked so happy to be with these people. The girl in every picture looked about six in this time, and the ten year old sitting on the man's knee was the exact image of Heather's mother.
Heather then noticed that this was a picture of her family too. The man must have been her grandfather, who she heard died when her mother was young. Her grandmother and mother were here, so that means that young Primrose is related to Heather too.
Heather heard her parents up late after she went to sleep sometimes. Many times her mother would get emotional, and her father would comfort her. Occasionally she heard words like 'I miss them so much' and names, or so she believed. 'Cinna, Finnick, Prim'. Could this Prim they were talking about be the Primrose this box was based on?
Her parents kept so much from her. She hastily put the box back on the shelf to get the thoughts to leave her mind. But Heather wasn't finished her adventure to the attic just yet. She found a box on the shelf that was much simpler, plain yellow.
Under the lid the name said 'Rue'. Thinking back to her parent's late night conversations, Heather vaguely remembered the name Rue being spoken, but was sure it was. There were no pictures of Rue, only drawings. But by the looks of her, Rue also didn't live to be old either. In every picture Rue looked as if she was ten or eleven. But a simple scripture had her information on it:
Rue. Age twelve. From District 11. Thanks for being a great ally. –Katniss.
Ally? Why would mother ever need an ally? Heather thought. Most people don't make allies for no reason what-so-ever. There must have been some life-threatening event happening at this time in life that Rue and her mother would feel the need for protection from one another.
Rue's death seemed to be dated seventeen years ago, when Heather's mother was sixteen. Being fifteen, nothing in her life seemed dangerous enough that she would need help in staying alive. The more Heather found about Rue and Primrose made her wonder what her parents have been hiding from her for all these years, what could have happened in their lives that could be so devastating that they couldn't bear to tell their only daughter?
Rue, Prim, and Heather. All three of them were flowers. Beautiful wild flowers that would grow in the meadow. Could Heather possibly be named a flower in memory of Primrose or Rue? Maybe, all of these boxes are here to remember people who have died in individual ways. After all, the boxes are all designed differently. Some boxes had different colours, plain grey, waves, and many more different symbols. But the flowered boxes of Prim and Rue kept Heather's attention.
Heather climbed back down the ladder after putting the boxes away and shutting the trap door firmly. She still had the house to herself while her parents and brother were out, and was, of course, eager to ask her parents about what she had seen in the attic. But Heather decided against it. Her parents didn't have to tell her if the memories weren't something they wanted to discuss.
But Heather's curiosity did die down a little, now that she knew that there was a Primrose and Rue, and they were loved very much. With the idea that they had their own memory boxes, Heather figured, she will have two other flowers to look up to all the time.
Hello! If you guys actually read to the end of this then thank you for reading my (current) longest one-shot evar! And maybe…have something to say about it? In a review? Thanks a bundle!