Flower Wilted Novels & Stories

There was a trace of puzzlement in her eyes as she looked at Fabian, who hadn't been back for very long. Fabian's smile grew even brighter, yet it appeared all the more hideous and grotesque. "Yup." Yvonne walked closer to the sea of roses. I could tell she liked it very much, but there was something strange about her expression. "How did the roses here grow so well?" Yvonne murmured, gently stroking the rose blossoms. "Of course they're blooming beautifully. Yvonne, I know who you hate the most, so I turned him into fertilizer to nourish these roses."

Lady Iris had also been in the scene early, staring at the once white flower that had turned darker in color and how dull the veins crawling on the petals had become. Seeing this, she quickly rushed toward, Lady Catherine, muttering her mouth as if to say something. Although Rose couldn’t hear what she said, she could see the lady’s mouth moving as she went into the garden. Dominic also stood beside her as they had woken up together. “What’s the matter?” Dominic directly dropped his question, thinking there was no need of going around the bush. Lord Salem was the one who spoke, “Earlier morning your grandmother found your mother’s favorite flower had wilted. They are very resilient flower, s

Magda leads me around the car and opens the passenger door for me. Unsure, I climb in as I settle into the seat, feeling the coolness of the leather on my skin. As the jeep's engine fires up, I feel a swirl of emotions inside me. *** As Wolfgang drives, I focus on the beautiful scenery around us. The sun illuminates the extensive fields of the vineyard, where the vines stretch out in perfect rows. The vibrant colors of the ripe grapes contrast with the intense green of the leaves, creating an almost surreal image. The winding road led us through picturesque landscapes. The wind caresses my face, and for a moment, I feel that nature whispered in my ear, enveloping me in a tranquility that I h

I leaned over the sink and vomited. Halima, the maid, heard me and rushed in. “Are you okay?” she asked, gently placing her hand on my shoulder. “I’m okay,” I whispered. “Let me get you a glass of water,” she said softly, her voice blurring as my thoughts scattered. I nodded weakly. But inside, a quiet realization was already unfurling — slow, trembling, impossible to ignore. Something inside me had changed.

With a chuckle, I started walking home. The garden outside our house wasn’t too big or too small, split neatly down the middle by a trail of flat rocks leading to the main door. Along the white fence, flowerbeds brimmed with autumn chrysanthemums, marigolds, and pansies, their colors shifting with the season under Mom’s meticulous care. They were the flowers of the current season. I paused when I saw something that shouldn't be there, the flowers were wilting on the right side of the fence but they were normal on the left side.

My steps lead me outside, into Elena’s garden. I shiver from the cold once I open the glass door. But all the cold is forgotten the instant I notices the state of her garden. All the roses that once bloomed in rich colors, now hang wilted, with petals shriveled and brittle stems. A pang of sadness grips me. It feels symbolic, somehow, this garden is fading as quickly as its owner’s strength I crouch near one of the bushes and brush my fingers over a dead bloom. Maybe some of them can still be salvaged if trimmed, watered and cared for. But most are too far gone.

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.

He left her stunned as he took my hand in his and led me out of there into the next class which we had together. A single daffodil was in the plastic flower pot in front of a house I had never seen before. I was sitting on the porch of this house as the sun outside was bright. For some reason unknown to me, I was angry with myself that the flower seemed to be dying. I felt like I was responsible for it. The petals started wilting and the color draining from it. The life slowly slipping away.

While he was doing so, I focused my attention on a large rock with a flower on one side. I immediately sat in front of it and saw it more clearly. Because it grew in rocky terrain, it may have withered because it didn't get enough nutrition and its roots couldn't crawl properly. I didn't hesitate any longer and pulled it out, thankfully with little damage to its root. I stood up and placed the withered flower in my palm. I turned to face Mino, who was just sitting on the rock, waiting.

He was sure Adam wanted to see him fail but just what the older man would gain from that was what Karis couldn't figure out. The incident with the roses left Weruche shaken. She couldn't understand who would be so cruel to send her those flowers, what could the person really want. She got up from her bed where she had been trying in vain to study, the text book on her bed long forgotten and walked over to the shelf where she kept her book and -- the single rose Karis had given her. It was now wilted but she had once cherished it. Now, she wondered if it could have been an inspiration to the person who sent her the roses.