Speckled Roses Novels & Stories

This place looks almost the same as Jack's house, at first glance, white and glass, the materials that dominate this atmosphere. Arriving upstairs, my eyes immediately fell on the eternal rose hanging in the air, it was in the middle of the open ballroom. Right hanging in front of a painting of a green wheat field. The Eternal rose I have is golden in color with long stalks without thorns, and only has leaves that are similar to glitter. It has a rosebud blooming on each petal, studded with small diamonds of the same color.

Later that afternoon, needing fresh air to clear her mind, Rosalie wandered into the glass-walled winter conservatories that overlooked the snowy palace gardens. The air inside the glass house was humid and sweet, filled with blooming white camellias, rare frost roses, and sprawling evergreen ivy. Parsha and Jenny walked beside her, carrying baskets of fresh blooms, while Rosalie laughed softly, chatting with the head gardener about which flowers would suit the nursery best. The peaceful atmosphere shattered the moment heavy, hurried footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floor.

I saw a deep red rose under my hand. A Cadenza rose? But where did it come from? I picked it up and held it close to my nose and sniffed the fragrant flower. “Mm!” I sat up and looked around me. The entire bed was covered with a couple hundred roses in many varieties. I felt my jaw drop in total surprise. Several I recognized immediately by their coloring and pattern like the Chestnut Rose, Enchantress and especially the Setina which was one of my favorites. I picked up several more and made a small bouquet, pressing their soft petals to my face, inhaling their sweet aroma. My favorite scent!

She inquired, her gaze fixed on the vibrant red blossoms. Her question left me momentarily speechless. I had indeed planted those roses with the hope that Roseline would bloom as beautifully and passionately as these flowers. I couldn't help but recall the day I bought her a single rose from a street vendor—the day I first witnessed her love for them. "It's so beautiful," Roseline remarked as she walked toward the small garden of roses, and I followed her. "Indeed," I agreed, "but not more than you." Her reaction was immediate. She froze and turned to face me, and her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink, perfectly matching the hues of the roses around us.

I noticed how he’s looking like he’s deep in thoughts. Smiling bitterly, it must be also hard for him. “Yes.” My eyebrows raise when I suddenly hear him answer. I looked at him and saw a sad smile on his face. His eyes are full of regret and longing as well as guilt. “But that won’t happen again anyways. It’s not like I can turn back time. Those two roses are gone… they were the ones that were keeping this garden alive anyways.” Two roses… I remembered that Diana and their mother grew roses inside this greenhouse. Diana grew roses that were red as blood, while their mother grew roses in different shades. But she said that it was the pink rose, that was her mother’s favorite.

I smiled. Rose had mud covering her clothes, with splashes of water on her top as well. "You should change your clothes, otherwise you will catch a cold." She nodded with a sheepish smile, "I went to collect water from the river but slipped over the rock and fell." I paused but continued stirring again...the river. "Can you add the final petals and stir this? I have some work to do." Rose looked at me in shock and to my surprise, she shook her head in a no immediately, "I can't do that, you shall always complete your work other..."

"I know everyone here, we all go way back except for some who come and leave occasionally. Your name?" "Rose," I said taking a step back wanting to leave. He didn't creep me out, He was okay. I just never became good at talking to strangers or new people. It made me nervous. The people I talk to, I had seen multiple times. Worked with them. But people who randomly came in , I never really got the nerves to talk to them in a better way.

She had such a good heart. Then she said conversationally, “You know there’s no such thing as black with blue-tipped roses, right?” My mouth sagged open, before I blinked and shook my head, unable to believe what I’d just heard. “Say what again?” “Roses only come in shades of white, red, yellow and purples or variations and mixes between those. Anything else is artificially created.” Still slowly shaking my head back and forth in adamant denial, I said, “No…no, that can’t be right.”

he pointed out with a grin. She chuckled. "Yes, but you've never seen Persian roses. We have pink roses with crimson edges and ones as yellow as midday sunlight, even orange roses that have coral at the tips of their petals." As she spoke, her eyes were distant, and she gave a wistful smile.

String lights cascaded above them, adding to the enchantment. Her gaze drifted downward, and her breath caught. The ground was a carpet of roses—red, white, and pink—arranged in a heart-shaped pattern so intricate it seemed almost unreal. Among the petals, candles flickered softly, their golden glow illuminating the arrangement with an ethereal warmth.