Flowery Prose Novels & Stories

If it breaks, does it heal? The air goes it; a thousand times don’t call names that way, breaking me into two and two more. Are you there yet? Neverland, The second star, a light year away. I won’t ever fall asleep. Mark the stars; it’s only too far away. I’ll leave the light on; both the front porch and the stree

“Mom, you finally came! You don’t understand—Charlotte egged Daniel on! “I don’t even know what she told him, and now he wants to divorce me! He wants a clean break! He even scolded Sophia just now. “Mom, you have to make this right for me…” “That’s right. Divorce is exactly what’s needed! You ungrateful woman! “If you don’t divorce now, how will you even get through the year…” “I knew it… You still care for me…” Mom said confidently. But her words halted mid-sentence as realization struck. Her face turned as pale as a corpse. “Mom… you… What did you just say? Are you telling me I should divorce Daniel? That I’m offensive?”

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.

Third Person’s Perspective Morning light streamed gently into Flora’s room, soft and golden. The curtains swayed slightly with the breeze, and the faint chirping of birds outside filled the silence. Flora sat on the edge of her bed, her bare feet brushing the rug, still feeling the warmth of last night clinging to her skin. Her cheeks heated as her thoughts wandered back. She thought of Leo, of his hands, of the way his voice had grown softer when he whispered her name, of how close they had been, how she had given herself fully to him without hesitation.

Flora's voice grew chillier as she muttered," maybe these realizings are n't the end, but the morning of a trail I must walk by myself. occasionally the most true trueness are the bones that ramify all ties." As the echoes of their hurting discussion melted into the quiet hum of the night, Flora's final rumored words quivered in the air," maybe the bitter taste of verity is the only flavor left to savor and it may be too sour to ever swallow."

As I looked at the man before me—acting so caring and so gentle, as if he loved me more than anything—I just couldn't understand how things turned out the way they did. I felt my eyes heat up with a burning sensation, and I forced myself to hold it in by holding my breath. He probably thought I was upset, because he smiled and lightly rubbed the tip of my nose. "What's the big deal? I'll help you get another glass cup, okay?" he said softly.

It was soothing yet powerful, like a lullaby whispered by the cosmos. As we passed through a grand archway, a gentle breeze met us, cool and fragrant. The courtyard opened up before us, revealing a garden that could only exist in the realm of the deities. Flowers bloomed in impossible hues. Petals woven from silver flame, blossoms that pulsed with a quiet inner glow, and vines that sparkled like strands of constellations. The trees shimmered with ethereal bark, their leaves shifting colors with every angle of light, sunset gold to aurora green to deep twilight blue.

He seemed eager to explore, his voice teasing and playful as he dared the others to follow him. The shore was a wild and vibrant thing, a living force that filled the space with life and the bright, thrilling energy of the unknown. Luminescent flowers pulsed like small, vivid stars, their glow a sharp, uncontained energy that filled the air with the thrill of discovery. The pollen was a sweet, lingering presence, a wild, living force that wrapped around them with the promise of the strange and the unknown. The crew began to feel odd sensations, a sharp, vivid energy that filled the space with life and the thrill of the unexpected.

“Today, Calliyah and I are excited to share with you our research on the Enchanted Moonflower, a flower steeped in mystery and legend.” “The Enchanted Moonflower,” Calliyah continued, “is a nocturnal bloom that only unfurls its petals under the soft glow of the full moon. Its ethereal beauty is enhanced by its shimmering silver petals, which seem to dance in the moonlight, casting a spell of enchantment on those who behold it.”

My very own canvas to play with. Her lips. I couldn't even imagine to express what they made me feel. Those thin red cracks on plump flesh. Like the petals of the Rose, when the dews their scent disclose. Soft as velvet tho' they be, fragrant of the Dawn and thee. Yet thy lips are sweeter far, than all garden Roses are. Charles William Cayzer might have somewhat succeeded in coming close to describing what was ineffable in words.