Burnt Roses Novels & Stories

Rоѕе wаѕ unable tо stop the house frоm bеіng consumed. In the drеаm, I knеw that Rose wаѕ ѕаfе frоm thе fire, as long аѕ ѕhе rеmаіnеd іn the water. I drеаmt оf Clarette nаkеd іn a lоng low соrrіdоr made еntіrеlу of dооrѕ. Clarette wаѕ ѕеаrсhіng for the rіght door. Uроn opening thе dооr, she dоvе іntо thе sea of tеаrѕ tо fіnd her ѕіѕtеr. Clarette's саrnеlіаn necklace wаѕ a compass to help hеr fіnd her wау.

“Come on, man. Rosa’s looking hot tonight. She keeps smiling at you, and you’ve only got eyes for your beer.” Rome looked over at Rosa. She was hot. Long, red hair, and legs that never ended. She was definitely someone he’d be interested in getting to know better--if it weren’t for that phone call earlier. All he could think about was Ella. He’d even looked around the club, wondering if any of these girls could be her. But none of them looked like the picture he had of her in his mind. Dark hair, wide eyes, a beautiful smile…. No, he had a feeling his Ella wasn’t here tonight. “You should at least get up and dance,” Bart said, nudging him with his shoulder. “I need a wingman.”

These goons have picked the wrong victim tonight and they realized it just now. “Nonetheless you chose a great place to die,” Rosamund smirked, eyeing them. The first one aimed to punch Rose’s stomach but she quickly dodges it. Rose was about to attack him but the other one ran towards her. Rose managed to see him coming and tapped him on his shoulder. In a swift second, the man’s shirt was caught on fire. Soon later, the man burnt his neck as he screamed in agony trying to put out the blue flames but it just wasn’t working. The flames were getting bigger and they were starting to eat his whole body. Now being swallowed by the fire, the man kneeled helplessly and then he just dropped on the

“I know but there are some lies that are necessary, especially when you promise someone else to maintain them.” “What lies?” This time Paul heard the anger in my voice. “Rose, the man that attacked you, what do you remember about him?” Paul pressed like this had everything to do with what he wanted to tell me. The memory was blurry as I tried to put the pieces together. “I don’t know… he was fast, really fucking fast. And his teeth— No, I was so frightened I imagined most of it.” “Rose,” Ivan touched my hand and my eyes flew open. I hadn’t even realised I’d closed them so tightly. “Just tell us even if it sounds crazy.”

The warm atmosphere chilled significantly at the interruption. The waiter stood there awkwardly, holding the roses, unsure whether to do as she said. When Heather remained silent, he chose to leave silently. This did not deter Charles at all. He continued to send a bouquet of roses, pink this time, to her studio every single day. None of the bouquets even made it inside; they were disposed of in the trash can almost immediately. At another art exhibition, Charles confronted Heather at the entrance and demanded why she refused to accept his flowers.

I was sure the moisture wasn't because she was crying. This one? Cry? Not after hitting me with a fire extinguisher. "You wanna say anything?" I asked, letting the cigarettes burn leisurely between my fingers. I reached out and gently undid the mouth gag. My eyes fell to her lips. They were so full, I began to imagine how it'd be like kissing this one. I traced my right index finger on the side of her lips. She turned her face away, her brows knitting into a frown. I sighed loudly and dragged on my cigarette, blowing more smoke on her face. Her shoulders heaved in a cough, tears streamed down her eyes. I smiled smugly, feeling pleased with myself.

The note read: Violet, My beautiful love I have had a special team working on this hybrid rose for you. Ever since I saw the blue flame I knew I could find a way to show you my love for you. And to remind you that with both flames working together you can do amazing things to help others. I love you. Love Jaylor. P.S. Move the paper to reveal the other present. As soon as I removed the tissue paper I saw a note on top of a dress. The note said Happy birthday on it. As soon as I read the note I thought could it really be that time already? Is is really my sixteenth birthday today? I look down lost in my own thoughts and they immediately come to a halt as I let out a gasp when I see the dress

The scent of roses clung to the air, thick and sweet, but there was nothing gentle in the garden where Serenya had been cast. The blossoms were not flowers at all—at least not natural ones. Their crimson petals shone faintly under moonlight, shimmering with a sheen like wet blood. Their thorns were long, curved like hooks, and when she reached too close to push aside a vine, it snapped forward, drawing a line of red across her wrist.

The petals scattered around her symbolize the shattered fragments of her past, the pain she has endured, and the resilience that has helped her survive. As the man casually strolls into the club, a flicker of annoyance crosses Rose's face as she observes him carelessly discard his lit cigarette, allowing it to fall to the floor. Her eyes fixate on the smoldering ember, its glow captivating her attention. In that moment, intrusive thoughts invade her mind, urging her to succumb to a self-destructive impulse. The relentless whispers coax her to grab the cigarette, to feel the searing heat against her skin, as if the flames of the ashes could somehow provide a temporary release from the anguish

The roses stood quiet in their vase, petals slowly opening to the firelight. "Do you like him?"