Dream Flower Novels & Stories

Daryad's voice, like the gentle rustle of leaves in a breeze, spoke of destiny woven into the fabric of nature. Daryad gifted Ava a delicate flower, its petals shimmering in hues unseen by mortal eyes. The fairy's words carried a prophecy, a whisper of Ava's hidden powers that would one day blossom like the enchanted flower in her hands. The forest, in its silent reverence, bore witness to the exchange, acknowledging the significance of this encounter in the grand tapestry of Ava's life.

"No time for dilly-dallying, you must tally with my word whether your answer might pull down or up. It is rather a must for I desire this Amaranth." "His Amaranth flower, who blooms rare. Holds phenomenal power, Wherefore fair? Whence fair? frog's thoughts are fair."

She beamed and said, “yes, I have talked to dad and he wants us to get married in the span of one month at most.” Rudra nodded and muttered, “fine, now please leave me alone. And for God’s sake, you are chief doctor and do some work.” Kiara moved out of the cabin and her minions instantly joined her tailing behind her. Rudra heaved a deep breath to control his anger that want to escape... he slumped in his chair and held his head in his hands. His gaze fell on the two frames on his table. One of his family with his three lovely angels and his father. His mother; Gayatri, his sister; Sanjana, and his grandmother. His lips curved into a small smile seeing them all smiling. But them his gaze fe

Freya’s nails, which were cut like daggers, sliced against Cassiopeia's cheek, leaving a visible claw mark. Cassiopeia was bewildered by what Freya was saying. "I don't know what you are talking about. Let me go." "You’re still lying!" Freya gestured at the pale-looking Liam, who was lying on the bed, and teared up. "Liam is only four years old and just had a kidney transplant. How can you be so cruel to him? Aren’t you a mother too?"

What the actual hell? We were in some kind of twisted dreamscape. Flowers bloomed in every color imaginable, blue roses with silver veins, blood-red lilies that opened and closed like they were breathing, and tall, golden sunlotuses that seemed to hum softly in the windless air. It was hauntingly beautiful, like someone had taken a fairytale, dunked it in poison, and sprinkled glitter over the corpse. “It’s… pretty?” Tera offered from beside me, her voice unsure, like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say it aloud.

Had the red-haired woman given them names? Gianna closed her eyes and tried to recall those images from that night. The flowers had been unusual, with petals that seemed to shimmer in the torchlight. Some had been purple with gold centers. Others had been white with veins of silver running through them. There had been vines with leaves that felt almost warm to the touch. The red-haired woman had pointed to one in particular. A flower with deep red petals and a black center that looked almost like an eye. "This one is called Heartbloom," she had said, her voice reverent. "It can heal the deepest wounds. It can cure poisons. It can restore what has been broken."

the woman replied with confidence. “Ma'am, can you tell me more about the white rose, I mean, I didn't even know they existed.” “Oh, you're are only familiar with the red ones. Well, all I can say about the white rose is, it's beautiful, extremely rare, and expensive. One of a kind, if I may say.

When it comes down to thinking about Love, people get confused. I am taking the dance shoes you bought once from me. I am taking a few more things with me which will remain with me forever. In return I have nothing to give you except some painful memories from my end. But I grew a small bunch of Daffodils down there at the side of the lawn these days. Take care of them as they were my favourite. You know Daffodil means rebirth or hope. They struggle through the winter to come in Spring in order to decorate our nature with its colour of happiness.

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.”

I told myself this was tactically interesting and nothing else. By day seven I had stopped telling myself that. On day eight Ruby brought oats with strawberries arranged on top with a care that was its own form of hostility, and stood watching me from the doorway while I considered the tray with the expression of someone who was genuinely sorry to cause inconvenience. "I'm so sorry," I said warmly. "Strawberries give me hives. And the oats look like they've been waiting a while. I don't want to trouble you with something I won't be able to eat."