Ringa Ringa Roses History Novels & Stories

Five Years Later ‎ ‎The garden was a riot of color. ‎ ‎Where the old perimeter wall had once stood, draped in barbed wire and fear, there was now a trellis of climbing roses, white, pink, and deep, blood-red. The "Bloodmoon" roses, we called them. We kept the name, but we changed the meaning. They didn't symbolize death anymore. They symbolized what grew from the ashes. ‎ ‎I sat on a stone bench beneath the shade of an ancient oak tree, a book resting forgotten in my lap.

Tears gathered in her eyes, though she pressed hard against them. "Stop crying," Rosa said, her voice edged with annoyance as she glanced away, the ring already closed in her palm. "As expected of a country bumpkin. How petty." The insult simply settled in and stayed, the way certain words do when they find the right wound. And that was how the ring left her hands. ***************** Now, years later, that same ring sat beneath the bright lights of an auction stage, displayed on a glass table like an ordinary luxury item. Offered without history to the highest bidder. Reduced to a number and a placard.

A red rose is not selfish because it wants to be a red rose. ✾ “Your arm?” I blink reluctantly at the woman in front of me. Biting my bottom lip, I slowly raise my hand and show her my wrist. She grabs onto it, pulling it towards her. She smiles at me, or I think she does, the only part of her that I could see either way was her lips, the bottom part of her nose, and everything below her ankles. Then she pulls a small sharp pen from her pocket, stabs it on my wrist, making me flinch. The pen starts turning red, and just like that she had taken some of my blood.

, Comfort asked. Rosalind on the other hand is begging to be paid attention to.She has been trying to show off her ring but it seems no one is noticing her. "Sis, what do you think of this ring?", Rosa called Mia and asked. Everyone turned to look at her the moment she spoke. " Isn't this aAyanboye ment ring?", Mia could not help but asked. Rosa was wearing a smug look. Frank drop his cutleries. "Isn't your engagement still on saturday?", he asked.

"It wasn't a diamond ring but when a member of the Black Roses proposed, his future wife wore his Black Roses ring. You've seen it on Audrey, Farrah, and Fanny." She looked up from the box and looked him in the eye. "Propose?" Her voice was soothing immediately, her heart pounding in her chest. Charles gently stroked her cheek. "You hate big gestures, Rosabella. But you're getting a ring. It's non-negotiable." Speechless, Rosabella held out her hand as Charles took out the ring and stuffed the box into one of his pockets.

"That is a king's signet ring. It's worth more than you can imagine. Drop it." Roxanne dropped the ring and stared at it from a distance instead. It did look like something a king would wear. It felt like it too, Cold, and heavy, studded with dulled gems that no doubt gleamed at the beginning of their adornment on the ring. It also had the imprint of a flower in it. A rose to be precise. She tore her eyes off it and glanced over at its new owner, a prince who was currently glaring at her. "It's a nice ring."

Meazus knew that Deanna wanted to give Jarvis a tissue, but he forbade it. Jarvis raised his left hand. “I always wear this ring because it is my wedding ring with Rosaline.” Raline slightly raised her eyebrows because the ring was in the ring box where she kept Hera's ring. The ring Jarvis wore was the same ring her mother always wore. Actually, they both loved each other, but the situation at that time was very difficult. So Jarvis and Rosaline did something stupid. Jarvis left Rosaline, then looked for her. But unfortunately, Rosaline seemed to be avoiding Jarvis.

Vastria looked down at her new ring from Remus and smiled. “I see you like the ring.” “I really do. Roses are my favorite, especially the black baccara.” “You and my mother will get along too well. She too loves roses and have a separate rose garden. She also was the one that helped pick that ring.” Remus scratched his head. Vastria thought a while and looked to Remus. “Hey Remus?” “Yes?”

"Oh, and the roses? Those are from the welcome party Sean threw for me. Juliet roses are my favorite. They’re not exactly fresh anymore, but they’ll do. I thought they’d be perfect for you—leftovers suit your status, don’t you think?" As she spoke, she swirled the champagne in her glass, casually stretching her hand out to clink glasses with mine. Her movements deliberately showed off a sparkling ring on her finger. I had a similar ring once. But mine was real. Two years ago, Sean told me he’d designed a ring just for me. Though the size was a bit off, I loved it. Later, I accidentally lost it and was heartbroken for weeks. I didn’t dare tell him, so I secretly had another made to match it.

An ancestor of Akyran’s had a penchant for roses, and the gardens overflowed with them, their perfume rich in the air. We crossed through the gardens, our cloaks caught by the thorns, towards the side entrance. Akyran paused and plucked a night-blooming white Fae-rose, a bloom rare and highly sought after for its perfume and as spell components and protected in this garden by the king. Only Akyran would dare to pluck one of these blooms so casually. He pinched off the thorns and handed it to me. “Part payment,” he said with a grin.