Chrysanthemum Characters Novels & Stories

“Zane,” I said quietly. He froze, hand on the knob. “Mr. Blackwood,” he corrected. Ouch. “Mr. Blackwood,” I echoed. I hesitated. My throat tightened. Why? I wanted to ask. Why are you pretending? Why are you doing to me? But all I said was, “Chrysanthemums? For the flowers?” “My bride loves chrysanthemums. Put enough of them.” He turned to face me. His voice was cold. “Do you have a problem with that?”

slowly I stood up from the bed, cautiously moving to the door. As I opened it, all I saw was the thin air and the sight of the grass. There was nobody in sight. Confusion filled me fast. Who had knocked? And why did someone come here initially when I looked down the confusion came with surprise. On the doorstep of the house, a potted pot was filled with yellow flowers. Chrysanthemums, I recognized. Crouching down I took it in my hands, holding the small pot up. The pot was small enough and as I looked at the flowers, there was nothing inside. It was purely a set of flowers.

Rose was beautiful, it depicted love. Love? I rolled my eyes and snuggled my pillow closer. If my father truly loved me, he'd never agree to that offer. Well, he lost all his common sense the day mom went into coma. That useless Catherina knows nothing about helping his business instead, she cared about Gucci shoes and Prada bags. No wonder my father makes bad decisions. At least I had Lisa and Blaze. To me, Kimberly was just a waste of space. Unlike Lisa who loved reading and minding her business, Kimberly preferred to spend her time shopping with her mother.

She was on her knees by the flowerbeds. “What?” I blurted, unable to come up with a full question and ask what I really mean. The blossoming chrysanthemums and dandelions that looked healthy and well when I took my customary morning glance were not starting to wither and die, right before our eyes. Their ageing was almost as rapid as their growing. It all just happened in seconds. As though someone had set them on fire.

“Charm. It was charm. The one thing you've never learned to wield. But that's alright. I wear it best anyways” “I’ll be standing beside him when this pack takes the next step. Not you.” She whispered it like a promise. My fingers curled against the hospital sheets,”You orchestrated it. This was your plan.” I spoke bitterly. Her smile widened, “What a thing to say to someone who brought your flowers.” I looked down, towards her hands and my eyes almost widened out of my skull, it was chrysanthes. I was allergic. “What are you doing?” I stuttered. “Just been a good visitor,” her face turned to a mocking pity, “Do you like them?” She fixed them towards my nose.

He then said, “Why are you looking at me like that? Chrysanthemums are flowers that are used only during funerals anyway! It’s best if she doesn’t like them anymore! Have the servants get rid of them! Mrs. Thomas was speechless. She loved chrysanthemums too! Barbara frowned and said, “Dad, we’ve already planted them for so long. Why must we get rid of them now?” Britney realized that she had exposed herself. She then said, “It’s not that I hate chrysanthemums. It’s just that I’m in a bad mood because of the pain. I feel like everything’s not to my liking.” Fia frowned. She didn’t feel like Britney said she didn’t like chrysanthemums because of her bad mood. Britney pulled her blanket, and th

When it was time, I wouldn't hesitate. …. Without any urgent matters to resolve, I arrived back in the office in the late afternoon. On my way back, I saw a pair of chrysanthemums, reminding me of her brightness. Rose. It was humorous and ironic how she was named. Even though her name fit the core of her red mane, she wasn't anything like a rose. She wasn't gentle or prickly. No. She was boisterous and yet quiet. The contradiction between her outbursts and teasing and the quiet moments she was satisfied with proved it. Just like her birth glow, she was a wonderful juxtaposition. Orange blending into a deep red.

The waitress at the flower shop immediately took out a large, beautifully arranged bouquet of white tulips. Xander's hand took out his credit card, waiting for payment. Suddenly, his hand was touched by someone, making Xander surprised. He turned his head and saw a fairly old woman coming towards him. "Xander, is it you, son?" "Mommy Camellia, I didn't expect you to come and see me." Xander immediately recognized the main character, who was the founder of this flower shop. "Of course, son, how could I forget you my son Peter's best friend?" Camellia's hand was still touching Xander's arm, even though it was shaking.

I crouched down to her level. "You're very welcome. I didn't know what flower you liked, so I guessed," I said. "I love daisies! They're my favorites!" she exclaimed. It seemed like everything she said was an exclamation. Her vibrant energy reminded me of Deira. She buried her nose in the daisies to smell them. Then she looked up. "I also like roses and tiger lilies and chrysanthemums." Her lisp came out again on chrysanthemums.

I said with my eyes. But then I thought again, she might mean well, after all, chrysanthemums is the queen of the fall flower, commonly used in funerals, therefore... appropriate. I’m attending a funeral for myself here. To every happy memory I have created in this place. It wasn’t so long ago. Yet it feels like forever ago. “Thank you, that is very thoughtful,” I smiled back. The whole town wants me dead. Having beef with the sisters is the last thing I need now. “Anytime, dear.” She locked the door behind her.