Reminiscence Roses Novels & Stories

she answered grinning, they exchanged handshakes. Rose walked up to them and without waiting for Melanie to introduce her, she introduced herself. "Melanie allow me I introduce myself, you know how you do forget things easily" Rose said wearing a smirk. Charles looked suprised "do forget? How?" Melanie tried to change the topic but Rose was too fast. "Oh... she has a medical condition which makes it impossible for her to retain memory from the past, for instance when she sees you tomorrow, she wouldn't recognize nor remember who you are, just like me... I am her bestfriend but I keep introducing myself everyday" Rose smiled.

"You're stunning, Rajkumari." "But I don't want someone to love me for my beauty!" Ahankara snapped, taking her hands away fron Neharika's and turning away from her. "I don't want to be the Moon," she said softly. "And you're not," Neharika replied, turning her around. "You're a unique Rose, Rajkumari. The most beautiful one to ever exist." "And he's made of flames," Ahankara whispered, feeling a chill run down her spine. "He's gonna destroy me as soon as he touches me, Neharika."

"The scar on your brow..." I murmured, my fingers unconsciously touching the old scar above his eye. Holden turned me toward him, his drunken eyes filled with starlight. "And the white roses every Wednesday at three in the afternoon... "Every time I watched you get upstairs safely, only then did I dare go home." At some point, the rain outside had grown heavier, pattering against the glass. I looked at the man in front of me, his eyes red at the corners, so gentle and so deeply in love.

The hall quietened, the silence hanging like a thick veil - almost as if everyone had suddenly held their breaths on wisp. The red - haired male stepped forward, reaching out for the bouquet of roses. His eyes filled with silent contemplation as he stared at the blooming,fresh roses and then at Dylan's expecting eyes. Without another thought he tossed the roses to the ground, trampling on them with his shoes tilled their petals scattered around in the dust. Gasps rippled through the halls, a clear expression of shock from the watching bystanders. "Dylan, how many times must i have to turn you away and how many times must you embarrass yourself in public like this?. You know.....", Simone pau

Three days after visiting the sunflower field, Amethyst found herself walking through the hallway of Jonathan's house, her thoughts scattered and her heart heavy. No matter how many times she rubs her skin, no matter how many times she takes a bath, she still doesn't lose the feeling when Jonathan touches her. The disgust is still in her.

ROMAN'S POV. Roses and i have had s smooth relationship as of recent. Things have been really great between us and the more I spent time with her, the more stories she told me both the serious and ridiculous part of her live back in San Francisco the more fond i grew of her. I remember she once told me about a day she and her friend when into a boutique acting high and classy and took all the jelly gum in the jar of the store and walked out without buying anything.

However, before the food was served, the waiter brought over a bouquet of red roses. "This is for Ms. Stafford, sent by one Mr. Pennington in congratulations for the successful art exhibition." Heather did not take the flowers. She told the waiter to send them back. "Tell Mr. Pennington that I don't like red roses." Red roses were Anne's favorite, not hers. She only liked pink ones.

scrambled eggs, a very thick greasy looking omelet. I picked up a glass and poured out a generous amount of warm milk. I had barely lifted up the glass to my lips when I heard the clicking sound of heels on the hard mabel tiles, accompanied by a sonorous voice and rich laughter. My Mom soon came into view, overdressed as usual, holding up a phone to her ear and smiling like a shy teenager who has recently fallen in love. I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I knew immediately who she was talking to. Joe, the beard-y-old man who has been courting my mother for the past two months now.

Silver roses bloom only for a week once every five years – their life spans are too short and too far apart but also far too sweet to be fully ignored. These flowers are like one’s childhood love – a memory that came too soon but rarely leaves. Tristal Mariana Andry, the Grand Duchess of the Noble House of Andry, sighed deeply. At age sixty and mostly bedridden, she had become more and more prone to melancholic spells, especially when it came to remembering her past. Today, she had been in reverie once more as she faced a seemingly daunting task. It was the first time she had been out of her room and in a party. It was also the first time in decades that she had chosen to speak to Caldwell a

"They're trying to preserve their stored experiences, but the blight is too strong." The roses that had once whispered Eleanor's memories now writhed in their beds like living things in torment, their thorns black with supernatural poison. As Iris watched, one of the oldest specimens gave a final, keening cry before collapsing into ash, taking with it decades of carefully preserved moments between Eleanor and Damien.