Purple Hibiscus Book Novels & Stories

I swiftly bent down and plucked out a purple hibiscus that was within my reach. I brought it to my nose and inhaled the scent. It had a bland smell that was soothing to the nose. I plucked more and more till my hand was filled with the hibiscus. I loosed my bun and used the ribbon on my hair to tie them up into a bunch. Satisfied with the look, I handed it to Claire.

CHAPTER TWO The morning sun rays reflected through the front window of Clara's room to the pink coloured walls that also had a splash of red and blue paints. The breeze was warm and gentle; that the curtains were raised from time to time until it finally hung on the cliff. Isabella gazed through the window and saw the outward gardern that were decorated by borders of bustling rose flowers, purple hibiscus, boungaivillea and others. Women waking with children by their side holding hands, some with babies thrusted on thier breast as she narrowed her eyes. She had now seen those early smiles fled from the face of her elder sister, Clara.

Sometimes, I wonder if she’s the one I am feeling in this room. I don’t believe in ghosts or that shit. I grab a blue hardcover, with the name, ‘Herbs for healing sleeping sickness’. I flip the pages, leaning on the bookshelves, as the pages flip, a paper falls out. I grip it, the paper is nearly old, the edges almost torn off. The writing is legible.

She asked as she gestured towards the Royal garden where the prettiest of flowers grew and the trees provided shade from the sun for anyone who wanted to sit awhile amid the flowers, so Trish and Lu set out into the garden. "This is so pretty" Lu gestured at the newly grown flowers who looked like tiny children compared to their ancestors, Lu mused while Trish just smiled and walked onwards and after sometime stopped and gestured at another row of flowers, purple and pretty, hibiscus flowers, rows and rows of them. This made Lu grin warmly and Trish informed her,

Namio watched him for a moment longer before quickly leaving. Inside Cyber Island, Hana was observing the rhythm of movement of the purple flowers in front of her. She had only entered here for 2 minutes, and they had attacked her in unison. They seemed to have a hunch and could guess Hana's direction. More specifically, Hana burned them all with Worn, but after, each flower grew as fast as a mushroom. After each time, their attack ability became faster and more robust. Hana recalled the book Henry had given her, based on which she knew it was a Blue Or flower whose mission was to protect Helix fruit.

A layer of stillness hangs thick in the air. And then I see it. A section marked not by title or subject, but by an etching in the wood above the shelf—an emblem of three mountain peaks, nearly identical to the ones in the distance beyond the mist. Their kingdom. A thin vine is carved around them, its leaves faded by time. I reach out and pull down a thick tome, the leather cover cracked and worn. Its spine reads: Hollow Flora: A Record of All Things Rooted. I flip it open. Inside are detailed drawings, pressed leaves, handwritten notes on the healing properties of each plant found within the Hollow after the curse took hold. Khael’s handwriting is sharp. Precise.

It was in that, with the turn of pages of a book, I could lose myself between the pages and forget, even if just for a moment, the complex web of my life. Today opened like each of the rest days: the house was quiet, and I was looking for another book to pass the time with. I ran my fingers along the spines of all the books on the shelves, and one leather-bound volume seemed out of place. I pulled it out; it was a book about hybrids. Its spine was cracked and its pages were frayed from having been read so many times before. I went to the table of contents, and my eyes grew wide with chapters entitled, "History of Hybrids," "Powers and Abilities," and "Notable Hybrids in History."

Finally, Proserpina thought, sitting down in Athena’s swivel chair, the small book in hand, something interesting. How curious though, she mused to herself as she moves on to the second page–that there was no author’s name unlike the others, not even the usual Anonymous penname that most of Athena’s books had but there was a preface with a dried blue flower still tucked inside, clearly preserved with care (is that an anemone? She wasn’t sure and she didn’t want to touch it)… oh wait, that was wrong. This was a dedication. It goes like this:

The garden was colorful with various and vibrant green, yellow, lavender, orange, peach, pink and read flowers blooming everywhere. It was spring so all the plants were shinning and healthy. I put my bunny down and went to pluck a blueberry off from it's thorn, I threw one into my mouth and gave one to Sparkles. I spotted an hibiscus flower blooming on the other side of the garden, I ran over and gently pulled it out of the rest of the flower patch, I gently tucked my hair behind my ears and placed the hibiscus behind my ears in between my hair.

Untamed. Beautiful in that unruly way nature becomes when it’s left to its own will. The hibiscus had burst out of its neat bed, spilling toward the stone path in unruly waves of red and coral. Creeping vines clung to the fence posts and wrapped around the wooden stakes like lovers who never wanted to let go, threatening to strangle the smaller blossoms that tried to bloom beneath their shade. It looked abandoned. Forgotten. But somehow… it felt like me. And I didn’t mind.