Flower Withering Novels & Stories

The fact that Phoenix had to fight the last group of hunters without her help made the situation many times more dangerous and deadly. Rowena bent down instead of answering me. She plucked a flower bud from the ground. “These wouldn’t bloom for a few more months.” She said as she raised the flower for me to see. Then I felt a warm draft. It was faint and barely noticeable, the kind of thing that I could easily pass as my own imagination even. The flower immediately began to move. It opened right before my eyes and beautiful colors were revealed. It was a pretty sight, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Soon, the flower began turning black and it bent down after died. After that, it disint

He adjusted himself and was about to leave when he paused. "One more thing, before I return make sure to leave. I don't want to sleep on the couch." He said and walked out. 'Am I that ugly that he looked disgusted?. Why does his words hurt me this much?. I never knew that hearing these words come out of his mouth would hurt this much.' Ariande walked out of his room and entered hers. She slumped on the bed. She kept thinking about his words,tears escaped her eyes. ' Am I that unattractive?'

"The names—I can see them in the white flower. Every candidate, every consumed soul. They're not trapped anymore. They're at rest." Aldric sheathed his sword. "Then it's over." Clara shook her head. "Not over. Transformed." --- The ground shuddered again, and the white flower on the stone bench pulsed once, twice, three times. Then, slowly, the petals began to close. Not wilting—folding. The way a flower folds at night, conserving its energy. The light dimmed, but it did not disappear. It settled into the stone, into the soil, into the roots of the gold and silver blooms.

I walked along a hidden stone path through an overgrown courtyard until I stopped dead in my tracks. Standing right in the center of the garden was an enormous, glowing wisteria tree. It was breathtaking. The long vines of purple flowers hung down like glowing curtains, giving off a soft, faint silver light that lit up the entire yard. But as I stepped closer, my heart sank a little. The tree was rapidly withering. Half of the hanging flowers were brown and brittle, falling onto the damp grass like dry dust. The thick bark on the trunk looked cracked and dry, like the life was slowly draining out of it day by day.

But the moment I turn toward the kitchen, my steps freeze again. The flower jar. My eyes lock onto it instantly. “You can discard it or keep it. Whichever you do, I don’t care.” His voice echoes through my mind so clearly that my breath catches. Slowly, I walk toward the flower. The once beautiful white and pink petals had already started fading into pale dull shades, the edges curling slightly as the flower slowly ages in the water. A small smile still touches my lips anyway. Because somehow… Even while withering, it still looked beautiful.

Open my mouth to speak but realise that I could not even hear my own voice. I looked around the flowers, studying them carefully. As I walked through them, they seemed like something that was dying and trading. I realised instantly that it was not the true nature of those flowers and something that happened to them that changed their colour to something so ugly and strange. I began to walk in at the moment and tell my aunt to pluck one of them, but it recoiled. I had never seen a flower recoiling from someone touching it before, and I wondered why it was going to do that. I tried even more, but it was moving further and further away. At the moment it was just an eye and this particular flowe

[NOWO's POV] Now that the water is slowly disappearing from the flower, and the unknown plant is left rooted in the polluted land with pests surrounding it. The said flower never knew when they were going to destroy her. But even though the said pests leave the plant alone in the middle of darkness and remain alive, until when could it ever live without water and sunlight? I'm like that flower, and during these times that everything seems to be fading out of my sight, I never knew what kind of future was waiting for me out here. Either I get killed by these endless evil creatures here in the cursed land or wait until I get old and withered.

She forced her voice to come low. “These are fibrous rooted flowers. During autumn, they try their best to conserve water by closing their root pores. So, immediately you remove them from the soil, their root pores close even more,” I said, raising the flower to Mother’s face. Then I began to give little scratches on the roots, “By scratching their roots and dipping them into water immediately, you help reopen the closed pores and make them aware that the new environment contains water.” I demonstrated the exact same thing I told Mum before putting the flower back into the soil.

The tranquil setting of an evening gradually came into view before his eyes as the time passed. Every day, he takes in the splendor of the setting that he fashioned. But honestly, he always felt that this scene had nothing special to hold his mind. Perhaps, he was longing for the figure of the owner of this place, not the beauty of the scene. As he stretched his hand out in front of him, a flower suddenly dislodged itself from the branch and flew into his hand. This rose, which is a red velvet rose, is stunning. There is nothing that can be done to improve the shade of red that appears on these petals; they have reached their full potential. It is beautiful, fragile, yet thorny; this beauty

I knew what those flowers meant. Gentian: hopeless love. Wisteria: living for love, dying for love, obsessed with love but never achieving it. Two cold, inappropriate flowers to give as a gift. It was truly impressive how Susan managed to pick these two. "No," I said coldly, then turned and walked away.