Bleeding Roses Novels & Stories

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

I sighed, putting on the safety of the weapon and tucking it into my waistband. "Let's go boys, the fun is over" I ordered and turned to leave with my men sauntering behind me. ROSELLE'S POV. I heard the pistol go off twice before feeling the bullets pierce my body. Everything came to a stop as I fell hard to the ground. I laid still, feeling the rain drops beat down harshly on my body and listening to the sound of retracting footsteps. I could feel my life crawling gradually out of my body and to be honest, being shot in the stomach and left to bleed out on a cold wet pavement in a dark alley, was certainly not one of the ways I wanted to die.

As wild roses mostly are pink coloured but here mostly were red in colour with a few whites among them. I loved caressing their petals. Their soft petals felt so good in my hands. Whenever I needed to think about something or make any decision, I would come here and close my eyes and pick one rose among them. Many times, I accidentally touched the thorns too and my hands would start to bleed too. But nevertheless, I would pluck the petals one by one and whatever option is left with the last petal, I would choose that only. This time too I did the same.

From the glow rose a single spark that drifted upward, caught in the wind, and vanished into the clouds. A signal. “Let the packs see it,” I whispered. “Let them know the moon bleeds again.” Varyn’s men moved to the edges of the ruin, lighting torches, feeding them to the storm. The smoke curled crimson, thick and deliberate, rising into the gray sky. Far away, I knew, he would see it Ares in his fortress, watching the same smoke climb the horizon like a scar. I turned my face toward the forest, where the goddess’s silver still slept.

Rosen said, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. There were classic red roses and soft white ones, but nestled right in the center were clusters of rare, ink-black roses—the hardest variety to cultivate. “Isn’t that a black Rose? Thought they went extinct a long time ago?” Luken asked in surprise. “They don’t grow in normal soil, Luken,” Rosen whispered secretively, “I’m the only one who can cultivate them,” Rosen reached down, carefully clipping a pristine bundle of the deep black roses. He held them out towards Luken.

The clock was ticking inside my head, telling me—reminding me of all that I had to lose if I didn't win. Rosa was still on the ground, bleeding, but her eyes remained open. Such a wound wasn't one that couldn't be healed, but because the blade used to injure her was both silver and laced with wolfsbane, it meant that she was indeed in serious trouble if she didn't manage to get help before she bled out.

But not like any I’d seen before. It was cathedral-like in structure, the arched roof disappearing into a dusky sky above, streaks of violet and silver from the setting sun casting ghost-light over everything. Climbing vines scaled the walls. Flower beds overflowed with dark red roses, their petals deep and bruised like clotted wine. And nestled among them were black roses—impossibly real, impossibly alive. Like they’d bloomed out of death itself. Reneé stepped to the center and turned, folding her arms.

To an outsider they'll think it's just a red rose, but in reality it was a white Blackthorn rose stained with the intruders’ blood. No

Blooming roses adored her white dress. Those were real roses, not artificial ones made by gauze. People could smell the enticing aroma wafting across the room. And those flowers were arranged in a very artistic pattern, starting off from her waistline and going all the way down to her train. She looked like a real goddess in that floral dress. Of course, nobody knew that those roses were in fact used to cover the wine stain on Aurora’s dress. Early on, Aurora asked for all the remaining roses in the packhouse and sewed those red flower buds onto the places that were tainted by the red wine.

Rose stood up from the bed immediately and rushed out of the room. Kimberly was confused, she was wondering why a place she did not hit too hard would be bleeding. It definitely means she was hurt there before. Rose got to her room and rushed to the bathroom so she could wash the hair. When she was done she turned off the tap and headed out of the bathroom. She sat on her bed and started thinking of what she would tell Kimberly. “Why did it have to bleed?” Rose asked herself and hit her head with her hand.