Bloom Sisters Novels & Stories

Purple is the most adored person in the family. Purple is one of the prettiest ladies I have ever seen. "Brother!" Kimberly squealed like a cute puppy and ran into my arms. I grinned as I patted her lavender-perfumed, long, wavy hair. Kimberly was sixteen and she was always acting like a baby. I loved her that way. She was so good natured and lively. "Bunny" I called her with fondness. I heard her chuckle with excitement. She had always been that way with Shawn and I.

"Assisting Stacy with her problems assisted me in realizing I had my own to cope with. I'm seeing someone now. For work's sake, anyway." She smiled. "Good, Ethan." He shifted uncomfortably, then replied, "Could I volunteer? Maybe take a photography workshop?" Amiriam flinched, surprised. Then smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, we'd appreciate that." --- One week later, The Bloom Initiative had its official opening. The first women arrived quietly, unaware. There were some single mothers. Some survivors. All of them carried something heavy. Amiriam welcomed each one with her calm, gentle voice. No judgment. Presence only.

Leah began, her voice a venomous hiss, "Liam has taken a peculiar interest in our dear Bloom. He wants to spend time with her, even at night." Stasia smirked, understanding the implications of Leah's words. "And I presume you're not thrilled about this newfound affection?" Leah's face contorted with disdain. "Thrilled? I'd rather be surrounded by a pack of rabid wolves. But fear not, Stasia, my dear friend, for we shall put an end to this madness. We will make Bloom's life in this palace a never-ending nightmare." As they plotted, the two women laid out a series of sinister schemes designed to torment Bloom. It began innocently enough, with subtle pranks and small acts of humiliation. They'd

October in Boston carried a chill that promised winter, but for the first time in years, Iris felt warmth spreading through her chest. Eleanor Bloom had been the family scandal, the cautionary tale whispered at Christmas dinners about what happened to women who rejected marriage for mysterious pursuits. She'd been brilliant and educated and utterly unmarriageable, had owned property and conducted correspondence with universities and spent her considerable inheritance on projects that respectable people deemed eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. She'd been everything Iris had never dared to be. "Miss Bloom," Mrs. Pemberton called as Iris reached the door. "If you leave now, I can't guarant

“The breeze chose this one this time.” “When was the last time that happened?” Eos said as she cocked her eyebrow up. “Too long ago,” Selene breathlessly said as she leaned into Eos as she beamed. “They will be special.” “If you say so,” smiled Eos as she wrapped her arms around her sister Selene. Selene locked her hand onto her sisters as she dragged her sister to the iridescent blooms.

The current knows my name now; I taught it when I bled into the sand. Above, the surface glows silver. I can still see her light in it the Luna’s. Aria’s. My sister-not-sister. Each night the glow trembles, and each night it fades a little more. That is how I know I am winning. The goddess is gone; I have scoured the silence for her voice and found only the hum of something older. It answers in vibration, not words: a deep, slow tone that thrums through the coral and bone I have gathered. The Choir.

She and her disgusting lawyers. What a fool she’d been. For several years she’d watched Louella interact with her team of lawyers and heard the rumors that she was paying them with more than money. Because she knew her sister to be promiscuous to the point of earning the label of nymphomaniac in her eyes, she not only believed the rumors, but she confronted Louella about them. It earned her a slap so hard across the face that she carried the remnants of it for several days, along with a warning to mind her own business.

BEFORE Luc As I applied rogue blush to the peaks of Lily's cheeks, I realised that I was jealous of my baby sister. Maybe it was the way her hair was pulled up in a messy bun so soft tendrils of ringlets touch her cheeks and stick to her lipgloss or the way her doe eyes were heavily lined (she copies my style at every chance she gets). Maybe it was because Joseph commented on how beautiful and delicate she was on our first date while we were waiting for our moin-moin.

Lyra was watering the plants, her gentle appearance fitted quite well in the middle of the flowers. “Hello.” “Sister.” Lyra’s had cut her hair a bit shorter, while Ayla’s had grown longer. The only difference in their appearance now, besides a few years, was the white dress on the former and the black clothes on the former. “Do you think… we can take a walk outside?” A big smile adorned Lyra’s face. At last, there was no trace of hostility in her little sister’s voice. “Of course. Wait a moment, I’ll tell grandmother to look after the flower shop.” She sighed “Although it might be useless, there are not many people buying flowers these days.”

As he returned to work, I brought him a glass of water, when he just happened to reach out. We touched each other, but he withdrew his hand first and pretended like nothing happened. "Your sister won't survive." There was no doubt about it—anyone who could be objective would be able to see that there was no hope for my sister. Even with that mysterious spell that kept her alive despite losing almost all of her blood, it was just pointless. Two weeks later, the cops found her dried-up corpse in the middle of the street, every last drop of fluid drained out of her body.