Flowers Never Bend With The Rainfall Novels & Stories

“Because I don't want to.” “I didn't understand why you’d reject roses from me. You took Noah’s without any hesitation, and he isn’t even your husband.” A dry laugh leaves my lips. Everything that is happening is nothing short of ridiculous. He shouldn’t even be given me flowers. That is something that real husbands do, and Rain isn’t a real husband. “I need to sleep, Rain. It’s been a long day.” Rain tosses the bouquet to the floor. “That is precisely why I did this. I wanted to lift your spirit after everything that happened today. You were so happy to receive flowers from another man, why can't I get the same reaction from you?”

The plants respond. I feel them before I see them, a slow movement at the edges of my awareness as my power bleeds out with the crying the way it bleeds out with every strong emotion. The roses in the far bed open in the middle of the night. The climbing vine on the east wall grows six inches up the glass. The small herb plants closest to me turn their leaves toward me the way sunflowers turn toward light, oriented by something they can feel even if they cannot name it. I cry until there is nothing left to cry and then I sit in the dark surrounded by flowers that opened for my grief and breathe until my chest feels like mine again.

I tried to think of the ugliest things I could imagine. Then, as if on cue, Ralph stirred. Something had woken Cael. “Go check on him now,” I heard. “What’s wrong, Ralph?” I dashed out, my bed was empty. Heart hammering, I rushed for the door. That’s when I saw it: the plant Mum had cared for so long, now blooming. And the rain… pouring down in torrents. Rain. After twenty years of drought, rain. Could it be? The prophecy: “Flowers will bloom, the rain will fall at the wake of the chosen. The earth will be fertilized…”

Normally speaking, it was forbidden to water flowers and plants at noon. At this time, the soil for planting flowers and plants was burning hot. If it was watered suddenly, it was very likely that the roots of flowers and plants would be burned to death. However, there was no problem with the flowers and plants that Lucy was serving at the moment. After soaking in some specially made dew, these flowers and plants became obviously strong. If they could transform into human figures, their expressions and behavior at this time could be described as arrogant. Looking at the rows of straight flower stems, Lucy pinched her waist and laughed proudly.

Bianca wiped away her tears, quickly got up, poured a glass of water and watered the trumpet flower in the flower pot. She had been too busy lately and hadn't watered the flowers, but the trumpet flower was so resilient, enduring the wind and dew, making the greatest effort to take care of itself, making the greatest effort to bloom beautiful flowers. The watered trumpet flower immediately perked up, and the half-withered leaves also straightened up. Bianca knew that the person across from her would see this scene.

She held a watering can in one hand and steadied a single stem with the other, with calm movements, as though time moved differently around her. My gaze drifted to the flower she was tending. The petals sagged inward, their color washed out, the stem bent as if it had already given up. I registered it absently and looked away. Then I looked back. The flower was no longer drooping. The petals were full now, rich with color, the stem straight and healthy, standing proudly among the others as if it had never been weak at all. My breath caught, and I stared at it longer than I meant to.

I continue my walk to the extreme part of the hallway, ignoring the cold wind embracing my whole body. It had been cold recently but dew are the only thing that falls from the sky and maybe some light drizzle here and there. No heavy rains. Not that I am complaining, it does good things to my garden. The back rose’s pine has grown so much that it is outgrowing its space. Maybe that what ill put in that vase to replace this sunflower. I smile at how glistening they would be from the impact of the water and the glow of the sun.

After a brief silence, detective Jones broke the silence and asked "what do you think maria?“ “About what?” “This, of course!” detective Jones said increasing his tone. “Calm down partner. Anyways, I think we're dealing with a nasty serial killer that has an obsession with flowers” Maria joked. “It's not just that. But wait, I think am beginning to get the pieces, according to the woman, a white rose represents chastity and purity,now a blood stain on it would mean what? The chastity or purity have been stained and how is that possible?”

Chapter 42: Meant To Be Reese One Week Later They buried Flora on a rainy day. Of course they did. There was something almost cruelly poetic about it—the way the sky opened up without restraint, the rain falling in steady sheets that soaked into the earth as though the world itself was grieving alongside them. It wasn’t the kind of soft drizzle that came and went. No, this was heavier. Persistent. The kind that seeped into your clothes, your skin, your bones, until everything felt damp and cold and uncomfortable.

I just needed a place that matched her personality so well and that's when I found out about the resort a few kilometers from town. Sooner our food is brought and we dig in as we talk about everything. Suddenly that's when God decides to grace us with rain. Della and I rush to the nearby tent as it drizzles. "I should have studied the weather before I prepared all this." I chuckle slowly. "You should." she chuckles too. "I love it though. It is beautiful." Della gazes into the expanse where rain drops hit the ground mercilessly. "Are you cold?" I ask.