Bunga Kematian Novels & Stories

Black roses this flower, not pure black, but dark red, red black, now spread on the floor, as if solidified blood. A woman cried out, "The flowers are blooming, the flowers are blooming ......" Mu Zi asked those around her, "What's going on?" "If the flowers sent are closed buds, it means that there are still some days before death, if they are half-open buds, it means that the day is fast approaching ...... But this, this bouquet of flowers, it's all blooming!"

It was Sudanni who educated me about these flowers. "These flowers are called Red Spider Lily. They don't grow anywhere but only in Callora Grande. But there are times that these flowers will sprout even in the wettest land or the driest." I promised him and took a bite. "This flower is the symbol of death. If a Red Spider Lily will sprout anywhere outside Callora Grande, it means someone will die." It seems like in each household, there will be at least 2 people who will die. "But these are just flowers. They only happened to sprout—"

I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. My dad followed me, shaking his head. "That's not a good way to deal with it, Jas. Something bad happening doesn't take away that it's still also your birthday." He smiled sympathetically. "You know your mom wouldn't want you to be doing this every year." I sighed as I headed out of the house and to my dad's car. "Well—it just doesn't feel right to do it any differently." - I placed the flowers down on my moms grave. Jasmines. Her favourite.

We called it The Switch. Off, you were a ghost. Unseeable not because of any trick of light but because everything the body used to announce itself, warmth, scent, the electromagnetic hum of a living thing with elevated senses, went quiet. You were there and you weren't. Present and undetectable, occupying space without claiming it.

Suddenly, Miren's voice transformed into a song about the manipulation of the soul and the destruction of life. "The most gentle and lovely people in the world are responsible for creating the stunning irises that are known as the flowers of death. This intoxicating and alluring aroma is wrapping its arms around your broken heart. Those with feeble and pitiful hearts are looking for support for their unsteady hearts wherever they can find it. The blood that is currently flowing through you is beginning to heat up gradually. The moans of the dying are trying to bring your attention back to the reality of the situation. This harsh reality world no longer has anything that can stop you from mov

he said excitedly to the others. The one with black hair closed his eyes, covering the irises that were the same color as the night sky. “She’s here,” he said in a whisper. He turned to the other three, a grin on his face, and continued, “The Moonflower.”

“You’re not welcome here!” “Don’t be in such a hurry to chase us out,” said Alice softly before reaching into her handbag and pulling out a single white chrysanthemum flower. Hitomi’s eyes widened slightly at this, and Yuri knew enough of flower arrangements and flower language to know that white chrysanthemums are usually flower offerings made to the dead. “You’re indeed growing into a beauty just like your mother.” Alice reached out with a thin hand decorated with rings and bracelets, the white chrysanthemum flower in her hand, towards Yuri. Hitomi slapped Alice’s hand away immediately, and the flower fell to the ground, before pulling Yuri away from Alice and pushing Yuri behind herself.

********* Two days later. Cara's POV I am feeling everything at once, but in the same time, nothing at all. My inside feels heavy yet light. I am cold, I am so cold. I can feel myself breathing, I feel the air push in and out of my lungs, I can feel my heart beating, pumping against my rib cage. I am alive, I know that I am alive but a part of me dies as they lower the casket into the ground. The coffin is dark stained cherry and it is perfectly polished. It has a cushioned and a silky lining. I want to touch it, will they let me touch it? I want to open it and see him one last time, would they let me do that?

Livia was left breathless by a few words that infuriated her, "You... you did it on purpose! I can see that you're clearly trying to curse someone to death! Elianna, do you still have a conscience? If it weren't for you, Joseph..." Livia, "Yes, Joseph?" He looked at her, his eyes cold and emotionless, seemingly without any fluctuation. Livia clenched her fist unwillingly and held back. Joseph looked at the flowers Elianna had sent. This is not a white rose. This was Lorymas Rose. Its true language of flowers not only represents the longing for the deceased, but also the emptiness and despair of love. The well-known flower language of white chrysanthemums is not something noble, but rather a

A single flower, fresh, real and blooming. I knew where the flowers came from.The garden behind the east wing where the Queen's roses used to grow before Morwen buried them. She hadn’t killed the flowers, she buried them, and now she gave me one as if to say: Even beauty dies. I didn't touch the flower, I watched it die off.By morning the petals were brown and I still didn't move.