Ghost Roses Novels & Stories

I didn’t understand the fundamentals on how it worked, I just knew that it wasn’t by magic. Around the water fountain where neatly trimmed and healthy green bushes. A limestone walk way had been placed around the fountain, connecting it to three other possible routes from the Science center. One lead to the Palace, the Knight training center, and the Town Center. Along each walk way was a lining of rose bushes decorated with many different colors. My favorite ones where the black roses, their petals seemed significantly softer than the others. The smell so sweet and intoxication that I always find myself bending over and sniffing them every time I pass. They said that these specific roses wh

The world is green and gold and impossibly alive. "She's gone," Celeste says. "I know." "I thought I'd have more time." "No one ever has enough time." --- We planted a rose bush in Anne's memory. Not in the garden — near the fig tree, where the dogs are buried. Celeste chooses a yellow rose, the color of the flowers Anne loved most. She digs the hole herself, her hands in the dirt, her face set in concentration. Oak watches from the grass. "You're grieving," I say.

Who could have sent such a beautiful bouquet, and what did the note say? As I read the note, my eyes welled up with tears. White roses symbolize apology and new beginnings; lavender represents regret and a desire to make amends. "I am truly sorry... I regret everything and I'm ready to make amends." The orchids symbolize love and forgiveness: "I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me." And the peonies, representing good fortune and a long, happy life, this is a promise to make things right. Gabriel.

My vision blurred as I slowly faded away. In my final moments, I caught one last glimpse of the flowers he had placed before my grave. White hyacinths—symbols of unspoken love...

In just under thirty minutes, she walked out with four full shopping bags. Living in the city center really did have its perks. Grace was feeling smug as she returned home. Just as she got out of the car, she suddenly remembered the cufflinks and tie clip she’d bought yesterday were still sitting in the wardrobe. She headed inside—and immediately stopped in her tracks. Right there on the glass console table in the hallway sat a massive bouquet of deep peach-pink roses. Eyes lighting up, Grace stepped closer and touched the petals. They were Muse Roses—a symbol of wisdom and artistic inspiration.

“No, that’s different. She usually sends me carnations because I once said that I liked red carnations.” “I don’t think these are from Tessie 235. I think these are from your former Daddy.” He tilted the box to show Cade. The roses were beautiful in an ‘I long for your death’ kind of way. “If I were into goth, I would be thrilled to receive these,” Cade said coming over to study the flowers. “Is there any connection between Strada and black roses?” Cade shook his head. “Not that I know of. Is there a note?”

372 Rosa’s POV A bouquet arrived for me in the late afternoon, just as I was finishing a meeting with the wedding planner. At first glance, it looked elegant—deep crimson roses wrapped in black silk, tied with a golden ribbon. The kind of thing a secret admirer would send, the kind of thing that might have made me smile. But the moment I touched the petals, a chill ran through me. They were dead. The flowers had withered, their edges crisp and curled, their color darkened like dried blood.

After placing a kiss on top of my head, he made his way to the bathroom to shower. Hector set up the entire funeral outside in the family garden. Just as he said, it was gorgeous. The funeral was adorned with vibrant flowers, their fragrances filling the air as they swayed gently in the breeze. Soft, golden rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy of trees, casting a warm glow upon the gathering. Delicate white drapes fluttered in the wind, creating a serene and peaceful atmosphere for Gisselle's final farewell. Hector had put a lot of thought and care into arranging such a special occasion, which I greatly appreciated.

The irony hit hard. As we drove further in, we stopped in front of the second villa. I stepped out and gaped—it was the most beautiful one of all. Painted soft white and pastel pink, with tall glass windows gleaming under the afternoon sun. Inside, the living room took my breath away. Gold and blush accents framed the walls, and the air smelled faintly of vanilla—my favorite scent. What a coincidence, I thought. A woman, probably In her early fifties, appeared from what looked like the kitchen. She smiled gently and spoke quietly with the assistant. I barely listened, too overwhelmed to focus on their conversation.

“I’m no genius, but I’m pretty sure even I know that code daddy dearest was talking in was referring to us.” Ghost scoffed, then snorted, then shook his head incredulously. “Who’s who then?” “Isn’t it obvious?” Knight clicked his teeth. “You’re the orchids. He said they’re commonly used in funerals. Funerals happen in graveyards, which is commonly where ghosts are found.” He shot a finger gun at Ghost. “Fire lily is Damon, clearly. I’m the moonflowers.” Shadows snaked across the floor, rolling over the wood like a dark fog. He gestured down at the sea of darkness. “Duh. And Caius is the rose, because he’s a prickly ass bastard.”