Roses On A Grave Novels & Stories

“I am back, friend, to avenge your dusk, and end their dawn. Every one of them is going down from tonight.” I pulled out a rose flower and dropped it on the grave. “Surely, they have created a monster that would devour them.”

I replied, laughing. Carefully, in my hand, I remembered the bouquet of roses, and silently mourned for the love that never blossomed to the fullest. I would drop the flowers on her grave eventually, postponing my long bath and sleep. The bright red stood out against the drab, monotone backdrop of slate grey. “I hope you've been resting well, my friend. I've missed you.” I carefully placed the bouquet on the grave. “Ken sends his regards. And all his love.”

To Scar's surprise, there were fresh flowers placed atop some of them, and lit candles flickered from atop wax-covered headstones. "Are these ... graves?" she whispered, taking in all the markers. Damon nodded solemnly and gestured for her to follow him as he made his way toward one grave in particular that had been adorned with many more flowers than any other marker. Most were withered and old, the leaves and petals little more than paper, but whoever had been put to rest here, they were surely loved. The door above the grave was weathered and cracked open slightly; it had once been painted bright purple with gold trimming around its edges, but now there was only faded color left behind on

And though the road ahead seemed shrouded in darkness, I knew that Rose's light would guide me through the shadows, a beacon of hope in the depths ___ The weight of loss hung heavy upon me as I stood by Rose's freshly dug grave. Her absence felt like a gaping wound in my heart, a painful reminder of the fleeting nature of life. With somber reverence, I placed a single red rose atop her burial mound, a silent tribute to the love we once shared.

Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust and smoke. For a moment, she let herself forget everything, her family’s death, the lies, the danger. But it came rushing back when the wall behind her vibrated with a blast from the hallway. Esteban pulled away, panting. “We have to go. Now.” She nodded, fumbling to fix her clothes, the heat of him still burning on her skin. They raced down the corridor. At the end of the hallway, a hidden stairwell led them into a dim underground passage. The walls were lined with aged stone, the air cooler but thick with dampness.

When they finally moved away. Either clan with Rosa moved forward. Rosa placed a bouquet of lilies on the casket. I placed my flowers. Felicia and Harry got white carnations. They placed it on the glass separating the body from us. It remained only me and Vivian. The others stepped back while they waited back. Vivian bought out a bouquet of dark crimson roses on top of the grave. She was fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. Her eyes were red and I saw her swallow down the spit.

I clutched the roses tighter, their thorns pricking through the tissue, a sharp reminder of the present. Reaching the willow, I paused. Shay's tombstone stood there, granite solid and unyielding, his name carved deep: *Shay Harlan*. Below, the epitaph I'd chosen: *Beloved seeker of truth, forever inspiring.* Moss edged the base, and fallen leaves scattered around like confetti from a somber party. I knelt, the ground cool and uneven beneath my knees, and placed the roses at the foot of the stone. "From a memory to a memory," I whispered, arranging them carefully. They looked right there, crimson against the gray, a loving tribute to what we'd had.

she started, but I cut her off almost immediately. “What do you think you want to dig out from…” I looked towards the grave to gesture at whatever she had been doing, and at the sight that greeted me, whatever motions had taken control of me suddenly disappeared. Red roses. Beautiful red roses marked the head of the graves, while the rest still lay in the basket, which now lay on its side on the ground - probably fell when I grabbed her. My hands slowly loosened around her arm, and I could not bring myself to look her in the eye.

The realization that I was dead and would never again sit with everyone I loved overwhelmed me, and I began to weep uncontrollably. “Clara…” I turned in surprise at the sound of Lucas’s voice. I watched as he approached, a vibrant bouquet of red roses cradled in his arms. I stood frozen as he placed the flowers atop my gravestone. He sighed quietly. For a moment, I feared he could see me. His eyes were red and swollen, bloodshot with exhaustion. Stubble lined his jaw, and no emotion appeared in his gaze. I glanced at the bouquet and laughed softly. “Who brings red roses to a funeral, Lucas? I honestly don’t know what to say to you.”

I’ve almost forgotten why I came out here in the first place when I open my eyes again, and something red catches my attention. At the crest of the small hill, an unkempt and severely overgrown rose bush snakes between a trio of headstones. It’s in full bloom and smells divine in contrast to the rank stench of the stagnant water all around me. A cold sweat breaks out along my hairline as I slowly raise my head and peer at the blood red rose blooms. That fucker not only left me a rose, but he’d picked it here… in the cemetery. I struggle to my feet, my legs aching from my trek through the marsh, and walk to the rose bush, brushing my fingers over the satin-like petals. I reach to pluck a part