Green Ribbon Novels & Stories

Set ≠8 with a tick. The maple leaves were dried and looked perfect, one reddish orange, two clear glass reflecting the white gold and yellow gold underneath. She had made a reddish orange small beaded chain mixed with yellow and white gold for this pendant. She boxed together the set as ticked ≠9 of the list.

I’m about to use Emerald’s eyes again when a vision overwhelms me. ** I see Alpha Everly’s eyes glow menacingly. They are now a glowing iridescent white, incredibly spooky. Light swirls around her as she brings vines up from the ground. There are creatures with red eyes surrounding her, pressed to kill. The creatures are pitch black, twisted and evil. While they fear her light, they are charged with one motivation: snuff out the light. She can’t do this alone. She needs help. I see a pair of hazel eyes before me. They close with finality. I see the same vision, but with a pair of bright blue eyes. There is a feeling of sorrow that washes over me.

he said, “go quietly. If you see a white ribbon on a lemon tree, go softer. If you see a red one, go home and try again next year.” “What’s red ribbon means?” Andrew asked. “No mercy,” the fisherman said. “Who ties them?” I asked. “The one who is not God but keeps applying for the job,” he said. “Don’t make me say his name again.” “I heard it the first time,” I said. He nodded, satisfied. “You’ve got more than most people before you.” He pointed the chin at Salvo. “Ride with them. Make sure they don’t look too stupid.” “I never ride with people,” Salvo said. “But I can ride nearby.”

The morning carried itself. When Brynn rose from the basin, dried, robed again, Wynn led her to the small adjacent chamber where the bonding dress had been laid out. It was not white, the old rites had never used white, but a deep forest green, the color of growing things, of the season she’d come home in, of the somewhere they had all been promised. The fabric was simple, well-made, sewn by hands across the pack in the days since Torrhen’s announcement, every wolf who’d contributed a stitch having earned a place in the witnessing. Brynn touched the green and thought of Isla, and of Lena’s garden, and of the little plant on the eastern window, and her throat tightened.

Then humanity needed to change with it. At first, Husen worked alongside them willingly. He believed they were searching for a cure. For months they studied ancient blood samples preserved beneath the station. The samples behaved unlike anything known. They regenerated damaged tissue. They repaired cells. They adapted to foreign organisms instead of rejecting them. The researchers named it...Crimson Blood. Husen warned them repeatedly. "We don't understand it." Their answer never changed. "We'll never understand it if we're afraid to touch it."

Oh, you never fail to amaze me, Crimson. ⚘ little ⊹ lies ··································································································································

Joanna was worried about losing her wealthy boyfriend, so every day she changed her tricks. One day, Jeffrey had a hangover and had just returned home when he received a call from Joanna. The woman on the other end of the phone had a gentle voice, just as he liked it in the past. "Jeffrey, something happened in the rose garden." Jeffrey became sober at once. "What happened?" Joanna paused for a moment, trying to be mysterious. "I saw the roses growing green leaves, are they going to bloom?" Jeffrey got up and jumped up and down to get there.

Their petals were deep violet, almost black, blooming despite the chill. “What are these?” “Belladonna.” She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that poisonous?” Rhys smiled without looking at her. “Only if you swallow it.” She glanced back toward the mansion, just visible through the fog. “Did someone leave that letter for me?” He stilled. His fingers hovered above the roots. “What letter?” he asked. She hesitated. “In my room. Crimson wax seal. No name. It was… left on my floor. Like someone had just been there.”

She leaves as fast as she came. I stare at the dress. My hands shake a little. Sonya sits on the chair by the window. She looks so pale. “I got one too,” she whispers. “Black. Simple.” We do not talk anymore, we just got ready. I put on the red silk. It fits tight and shows too much skin. The collar stays around my neck, a silver cold. Sonya helps with my hair, she makes it into loose waves, adds a little makeup on my face, and gives me red lips. We look pretty, like dolls.

I smile at her happiness. It’s a silver band with one larger diamond in a high setting, an intricate woven cage holding it. Nothing too large, but not too small that it would be gossiped about. I pull out the other ring out of the box, mine. It is a simple silver band, a ring of crimson around the middle and engraved with our names. She seems pleased by it as she takes it and slides on my finger and I do the same for her.