Bunga Kematian Novels & Stories

“I was pissed they did this to me and pissed Jared fucked me over so I said fuck it and fuck you. You mated the bitch and killed Jared. I have held Scarlet responsible for a long time. She left our pack and deserted us and then showed back up as you as her mate? Now she acts like she cares? So for the past few months, I decided to teach all you people a lesson. Don’t fuck over your hired helpers. After I wiped out Montana, Washington was next. Or Is…” “What did you make to put in our water?” I asked through clenched teeth. “A liquid form of cobalt and magnesium. At high enough levels, you will die of an overdose. Shut down major organs and eventually the low blood pressure will kill you. Pai

My mother screamed—the correct reaction. “What the fuck?” Sara, my sister, gasped as she walked into the room and squatted next to our father. A large puddle of blood had formed by his face, seeping out from his mouth and nostrils. She pulled a dart out of his arm and smelled it. “Wolfsbane,” she said. “How ironic,” I responded. “What?” She looked at me, confusion on her face. “Well, it was his idea to use wolfsbane darts in battle. It’s pretty ironic that that’s how he dies in the end, eh?”

The glow in those eyes were growing brighter, and Annabel had this uncomfortable thought somewhere in her mind that if the sculpture got too angry, it could explode, killing her. “No.” Her voice was weaker this time. Still, she could not bring herself to killing a man that had done nothing to him. You just have to think it. What? Think it. Wish him dead. Make it happen. The voice snaked all the way into her mind, caressing it. Slowly, she was getting overpowered by whatever it was the statue was doing to her. She could not fight something that could speak in her mind, something that could, perhaps, control her mind.

She was about to use the item she just crafted as part of honoring Margaret's death, but she changed her mind right then. Back in the basement earlier, Tirana had crafted a small vase imbued by synthesized elemental energy. The vase was filled with various seeds and ground flowers as catalyst for the energy, and it was meant to enhance longevity of white stargazer lily bouquet she brought. She wanted the scene of Margaret's death to be beautiful just as she was in life.

I was too much of a weakling to tell his parents the truth, let alone avenge his death. I guess with age comes maturity, and a stronger sense of loyalty, even if it did come too late. I purchased a bouquet of sunflowers - remembering how much Mateo loved the color yellow, and its significance in symbolizing hope and happiness - and walked through the gates of the cemetery, holding that hope and happiness only in my hands, and not in my spirit.

He looked at them for a second before responding "Those are the purple iris and the black rose, the purple iris reflects secrecy and omerta, something I take very seriously in my world. No one is allowed to speak of what happens between us, and the other flower, the black rose, speaks of death and murder. If anyone reveals anything of our activities, they would meet a very bad end," he said, and I simply nodded as I took in that information. "Wow, I guess I have a lot to learn here then," I said and laughed a little

He asked. “I did promise to tell you didn’t I? The chrysanthemum is the flower of death,” she began, pointing to the largest flower, and Chris held his breath. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but she was actually smiling. “But I found out in Australia, they call it ‘mum’ and give it as a Mother’s Day gift.” “Really?” “Yeah. When I heard about it, the flower became pretty special to me.” “And the other one?” He asked, tracing the smaller flower that composed her black and grey tattoo.

The mournful melodies of the funeral dirge envelop them, and the soft whispers of condolences from friends and family fill the air. As they take their seats, Karma's gaze falls upon the two coffins, adorned with white roses and surrounded by candles. Her heart aches, and she feels the weight of her loss like a crushing burden. Karma slowly walks up to her mom's casket, she removes a single white rose from the Casket spray, and returns to her seat, smelling the flower. and the eulogies flow like a river, each one a testament to the love and impact of Karma's parents. Tears stream down faces, and sobs echo through the silence.

"Summon Elder Pei and Beta Prime Marcus to the Royal Study immediately!" *** The Phantom Nightshade bloomed only once every five years. Its petals were a deep, bruising purple that emitted a strange, intoxicating fragrance. Under the moonlight, the flower seemed to refract light like shattered stars—breathtakingly beautiful, yet fatal. It was known as the Flower of Death. If a wolf ingested even a speck, their insides would liquefy within moments. Its cultivation was notoriously difficult, requiring a specific balance of soil and shade. Many high-born she-wolves in the Royal Capital had attempted to grow it for its beauty, but only one had succeeded: Beta Prime Marcus’s daughter, Cassandra.

After that day, I never saw Emery again. Sasha's case caused a media storm due to its severity, and she was sentenced to death with immediate execution. Meanwhile, I was busy arranging a funeral for the two innocent children. In my previous life, Emery had managed to save them in time. This time, they could not escape their own mother's cruelty. On the day of the funeral, I stood before their graves with their favorite stuffed animals in my arms. I spoke softly to them. I prayed that they would be blessed with parents who truly loved them in their next lives.