Novel Cherry Blossom Novels & Stories

I passed Polly in the hallway. She was pushing a handcart piled with ten or so boxes, arms trembling. Seeing me, she stopped and lowered her head to let me pass. "Distribution going okay?" I asked. "…So-so," her voice hoarse. I nodded and walked on. After a few steps, I glanced back. She was still there, hands on the cart, shoulders slumped. The snowlight outside cast pale shadows on her face—white, almost bloodless. The next day, my assistant mentioned casually while dropping off documents, "Mr. Bassett… the employees secretly created a group chat. They call it the 'Cherry Victims Alliance.'"

he looked at the people around him and curled his eyes with a smile, as he handed the trophy back to Ash, "so this trophy is still to be given to you. You are the eternal number one." Ash couldn't help but break his performance. He tugged his mate hand with a smile and commented, "It's so naive." "No," Alex said he did not accept it, "very mature and very mature. Will it be okay ?" "Okay." Ash stopped refuting, but asked instead, "What are you going to do next?" "The flowering period of the cherry blossoms has recently arrived. Let's go and see it for a while," Alex asked sideways about Ash opinion,

For a brief moment, it felt like the cherry blossoms were in full bloom again. And through the petals that swirled in his mind— He saw a little girl running toward him, smiling. --- An hour later, Caitlin and Sebastian finally arrived at Sakura Ridge. The cherry blossom season had passed—the forest was now lush and green. They walked deeper into the woods. Searching for the tree where Caitlin and her brother had played as children. Where they had picnicked with their mother. Then— "Caitlin, look over there!" Sebastian’s voice was sharp with urgency.

I've told you before. I could see Chelsea thinking hard, then suddenly her face lit up with the memory, "Kisses from your grandpa!" I nodded my head and pulled down a pale pink cherry petal from the branch hanging by my side. I stared at the petal. They were my Noona's favorite. She liked them because they didn't stay for long. She always told me that the best and prettiest things never stay around for long. She said that a cherry leaf was too beautiful to last all year. It was more special because it's life was short. Like the samurai-- extreme beauty, quick death. I still wasn't sure what it all meant but she said I will once I get older.

“Ooohhh, looks like someone got an admirer,” I took my eyes off my laptop and turned to see Cherry leaning against my door frame with a bouquet of rose flowers in her hands. She was smiling sheepishly as she walked into my room. “What?” I asked confused. “This was delivered for you,” she stretched the flower to me and I took it, confused. “Hmmm. Who is it from?” There was no card on it, no note. Nothing that shows who would have sent it.

A familiar conversation drifted out. "Was that flower really that hard to pick?" "You bet. Moonwatch Cliff is so dangerous that even professional climbing teams wouldn’t dare go there lightly." Through the half-open door, Rhea saw Vera idly turning the briar rose in her hands. Sienna Caldwell leaned in, eyes bright with gossip. "Then he really risked his life to get it. When he delivered the flower yesterday, I think I even saw your name tattooed over his heart. He’s really planning to chase you, huh?

And that was the end of the second lover. The third lover was young and brave and gay. Impetuous he was, and beautiful. He first set eyes on the Flower of the Cherry at a festival in his father’s house. Afterwards he went to seek her out in the street of the geisha. He found her as she leaned against the gallery railing of her mistress’s house. She looked down into the street of the geisha and sang this song:

The cherry tree stood at the edge of the central plaza, just beyond the library steps, where the campus sloped gently toward the old stone fountain. Its branches arched wide, heavy with clusters of pale pink blossoms that trembled in the late afternoon breeze, shedding petals like quiet confessions onto the grass below. And beneath it, Sophia sat alone. Finals were coming.

The one who owned all this earthly beauty was such an unpleasant person. But it was morning and, for the first time in years, she didn't have to rush out to go to work. There was a cherry-tree in full bloom outside of her window. It grew so close that its boughs tapped against the house, and it was so thick-set with pastel pink blooms that hardly a leaf was to be spotted. This view was something Clare would only see in a travel magazine created to make her daydream run amok. Now it was hard to believe that she was in it herself. This made the thought of seeing Violet Wintour again somewhat bearable.

"Her majesty, I saw her in the passage near the Falling River. She was seriously injured and there was a flower with her." "What flower?" Amnisty doesn't answer right away. She and the queen already talked about this situation but they need to do it again to inform Dealla. She sighs before answering. I hate repeating. "It's Peony." "Oh, what a nice flower and it's the favorite of our friend, Amnisty. Right?" "You're right, her majesty." "Since you don't remember your name, darling. How about I'll name you Peony? Is it fine with you?" The queen strokes some strands of Dealla's hair. She puts it behind her ear. The queen stares at Dealla’s face.