Blood On A Rose Novels & Stories

"It’s the red rose again," I whispered, staring at the single blood-red rose lying in the middle of the shattered glass. My pulse pounded in my ears, a chill creeping up my spine. "Adrian… why do we keep seeing red roses these days? Do you think… someone’s trying to send us a message?" Adrian stepped closer, his gaze hardening as he studied the rose. "A message?" I nodded slowly, unable to tear my eyes away from the ominous flower. "Yes. And whoever it is… they’re willing to go to extreme lengths. We need to be careful."

She said with amazement. There was a lotus floating in the middle of the pond. That was the destination for all the roses. I stood behind Zeve, stoically peering at the rose. I crossed my hands across my chest. My wrist was bleeding less, so I tightened my grip around it, reopening the wound. God knows why I wanted that wound to not heal. It was as if I was waiting for something to happen, but didn’t know what. The blood stained my shirt, too, but who cared? The rose race was more intriguing to watch.

I turn over. His side of the bed is empty, which I expected. Of course I expected it. He couldn't have stayed, and I knew that before I ever said stay. But the sheets still hold the impression of him, the faint warmth of a body recently gone, and I reach out and press my palm flat against it like an idiot. Then I see the rose. A single red rose. Petals unfurled and vivid against the white pillowcase, like something bleeding. The smile dies.

I saw shapes moving in the distance. Others were coming. Their steps were heavy like the earth itself. “R-Run…” It was the voice. That soft, cracked voice. This time—I looked down. And there he was. Rose. Bleeding. A spear stood proud in her chest like it had conquered her. Her blood ran onto me, warm as life, red as war. Even now… even dying, she told me to flee. “R-Rose… get up…” I tried to lift her hand.

Chapter Two: SIGHTING Later that night, Rojean dolled up to go to a place that was both a nightclub and a bar that everyone was talking about. She was old enough, for sure, especially if she was going to get married soon. But she was never the kind of person to go out on the weekends, to a club or even a bar and always preferred the comfort of their apartment which Lucas didn’t mind at all even when he wanted to go out. She was in a cream coloured off shoulder dress which stopped mid-thigh and hugged her curves beautifully.

Rose could see his frustration without a cigarette and knew he is still standing there just with the hope to see her, that's why she straightens her back, drew the curtain, and switched off the light but still standing near the window and staring towards Alex. Alex took a deep breath as the lights of Rose's chamber has been switched off. He hopped in the car, gave one last glance to the widow, and drove off the car. Rose release a deep sigh after Alex's car was no more visible to her sight and walked towards her bed, but couldn't able to sleep. Rose was drowned in the thoughts of the killer red rose. Alex said a culprit is a man whose skin sample was found in Alan's nails by Alex and his tea

Diego exited quickly before I could ask more questions. I inhale deeply, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat. I am here already. It's too late to back out. May as well see his boss. I smile as I wait, surrounded by blooming roses. Their delightful scent fills the air. I lean closer to one red rose and inhale its aroma. "Hmm, your scent is beautiful," I whispered. It's a blood rose—soft, dark petals inviting a touch, though the thorns are vicious. I was about to touch it when I heard someone clear his throat.

Alexander strode forward, crouched, and tore the paper open with a violence that made my chest tighten. The wrapping fell away. Inside was a glass box. And inside the box— A single blood-red rose, its petals lush and perfect, glistening with dew that wasn’t dew at all but something darker. Along the stem, wrapped in black ribbon, lay a silver bullet. The sight stole the breath from my lungs. I clutched the railing, my knees weak. A rose. Beauty. Romance. Life. Paired with death, pressed against it like a lover. The message was as clear as the card.

However, before the food was served, the waiter brought over a bouquet of red roses. "This is for Ms. Stafford, sent by one Mr. Pennington in congratulations for the successful art exhibition." Heather did not take the flowers. She told the waiter to send them back. "Tell Mr. Pennington that I don't like red roses." Red roses were Anne's favorite, not hers. She only liked pink ones.

A red rose which shines and clearly emerges into the room because the whole room is black. And everywhere in the room there are black roses and that's why this red rose looks more beautiful. I held my body and, with the force of my right arm, I sat on the floor, then I stood up and walked towards this red rose. It is so beautiful and attractive. I have never seen such a beautiful rose, a red rose with so many petals, about twenty, before. I sat beside it and saw that rose which is so attractive and isn't an ordinary rose. On seeing this rose, I just thought about my past.