Marigolds Characters Novels & Stories

“See, Lavender was a clever female, as well as ambitious and power hungry, and to be honest, a real bitch. She’s the sort who makes friends with people she thinks might prove useful. One of these ‘friends’ was a wise woman. A girl. Let’s call her—” Her name’s obviously Abertha. “Marjoram. Marjoram, the wise girl. She was gifted and brilliant and smokin’ hot.” Abertha waggles her eyebrows, amused with herself. “So one day, Lavender visits Marjoram in her little shack, much like this one.” She gestures around the small, cluttered room. “With tears in her eyes, Lavender begs for a potion that will let her carry the pup of her one true love.”

knowing she had a way of cornering me, pushing me into situations I wanted no part of. I didn’t wait for her to answer. With everyone focused on the two, I quietly slipped away, heading back towards the place the old man was standing next to. Overgrown branches clawed at me, but I pressed on, parting the bushes until I found them–the marigolds. Their vibrant orange petals looked almost out of place against the grave’s cracked and weathered stone. A chill ran through me as I bent down to touch the flowers, their presence stirring memories I’d rather keep buried.

one time when the patron was showing off his dick at me, well, covered dick but of course, it nearly made me wanted to shove a chair at him and showed him that I am not a whore. I am a grown ass woman that was not a damsel in distress as they might want the men to think we were. I pulled the apron from my head before I was looking at the manager that was talking with a woman. I stared at them as the manager was being flirty and all with that woman. How nice, to have a partner. I sighed before I was shaking that thought away from my mind. No, Taylor, you don’t want a partner remember? That old man, who was in his 60s but still want to marry a young woman.

The witch said as she turned back her attention to the awkward girl after she had ordered one of the swollen fingers. “I will, Madame if it pleases you,” Maria said obediently to the witch who was again stooping and had resumed clearing weeds around her squashes. The awkward hopped right away at the carrot patch next to the golden nugget squashes as Helia had said. She looked around. Everybody was so busy doing chores around the garden, except for the abominable lazing goat-head demon at the edge of the crag where the ubiquitous crow’s foot grasses, cupid’s shaving brush, and swollen finger grasses were plenty.

We weren’t friends, but we weren’t enemies either. Margaret was wearing a chartreuse gown embroidered with lily pads. The Beta’s wife’s name is Lily. Margaret has striking features. Her skin is the color of a summer elk. Her hair falling around her face in large chestnut brown ringlets. She has almond shaped chocolate brown eyes. “All these girls talking like they never heard the Epic of Cordelia.” Margaret quietly and snarkily said. “Right? A slave mating to the Kingdom of the Moon is a death sentence.” I responded dryly.