Tears On A Withered Flower Characters Novels & Stories

"If I refuse?" Abigail reached for a vase opposite her and picked out a flower. Her free finger hovered over delicate white rose petals. I watched the tip of her fingers glow red as she channeled into the flower. The vibrant color started to fade, the petals wilting and shriveling before my eyes, turning brown and lifeless. "This," she said softly, holding up the withered flower for me to see, "is what happens when you defy me." The symbolism wasn't lost on me. Alaric's life would be in danger.

She turned away, her posture rigid, leaving Flora reaching for empty air. I watched from behind the curtains, a smirk playing at the corner of my lips. “Drama unfolds, and the mastermind is revealed,” I mused, savoring the unfolding chaos. Refusing to be dismissed so easily, Flora turned to Ethan Wilson, seeking any semblance of sympathy. She knelt before him, her hands clasped as if in prayer, her eyes brimming with tears. “Father, understand me, please,” she implored. Ethan hesitated, his face a battleground of emotion—conflict evident in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by Olivia’s sharp gaze.

I deserved to die. I am barely aware of Wolfgang getting up from his chair to reach me. But it was too late, I feel as if something is breaking inside me. A flood of tears wells up in my eyes, and an anguished sob escapes my throat. I clutch at the first thing I can find, but when I realize it's Wolfgang's arm, I frantically pull away from him and get up from the chair, causing it to fall to the floor. The world around me becomes distorted, as if I'm looking through a fogged glass.

"Oh, Carlo. Look at me. Take a good look... Whose wedding do you think this is? This is my wedding. Mine, and I'll be marrying Luca. And you? You're just a madman crashing someone else's wedding." His smile froze. Tears rolled down his face. "No… It's not true… Rosa, you love me…" I dropped the wilted roses at his feet. "You're wrong. I did love you...but that was in another life. You murdered that love with your own hands, and my life along with it. All I have for you in this life is hate." I took Luca's arm and walked past Carlo without looking back. His cries echoed behind me, but none of that mattered to me anymore.

Now Flora’s dead body lay in his arms and all he could do was pointlessly try to remove the arrows, which would not budge. Her eyes were still open, with a final smile on her face as the Kingdom of Howard’s last deity faded from existence. “Flora” Gian said desperately, “I NEED HELP” he roared to the seemingly empty room, but no help came. Dejectedly, he put his head on Flora’s body and cried like a little child. He was the one who inflicted the first wound on her, had he not wounded her, she probably could have dodged the arrows that were targeted at her.

Flora continued to eat, and it wasn’t long before her tears began to fall. No matter how loyal she could be to Roman, one could understand her sadness and distress. Scarlett was her niece after all. “How could you be so stupid, Scarlett?” She said as she brought the last mouthful to her lips. Her tears fell harder, and Rose couldn’t help but feel like she was getting stabbed in the heart. The woman’s pain felt like her own, and she soon found herself tearing up as well. “And what are you crying for, little butterfly?” Roman asked right after she sniffled.

" I said as a tear shamefully trickled down my cheek now, as though the clenching of my fists initially would have ever stopped it. I turned away from him to leave now since I had done what I came here to do. But the bastard was questionably quick enough to grip my wrist, stopping me abruptly. His hands were fidgety, relatively loose in fact but somehow, I could not yank my hand away from his hold even when I tried to. "But these tulips weren't happy where they were because they noticed how distressed I was. Don't ask me how but they sure did notice. They agreed to my request to pluck them irrespective of how much the mission had failed countless times. They were willing to be plucked even

Or not enough? With a sigh, she dipped her pen in ink and began to write, her emotions finding shape in verse: A withered rose, forgotten in the vase, Still thirsts for light, for water, and for grace. Though petals fall and vibrant hues have fled, A fragrance lingers where beauty once was bred. The gardener passes, blind to silent plea, His gaze fixed firm on fresher blooms than she. Yet still she stands, her purpose not yet done, A quiet dignity beneath the sun.

“What did I ever do to deserve this life? It’s horrible. It’s terrible!” He choked out, each word a fresh stab of agony. Then he lifted his head up to the sky. “Curse you, sacred moon!” he screamed, the pain in his voice deeper than any wound. And just like that, his tears began to fall. Big ones. Heavy ones. They hit the ground with soft sounds. Then something strange happened. Where one of his tears fell, a tiny flower grew. Right there on the floor. Its petals soft and purple. He didn’t notice them, lost in his despair

And it would not be long enough before she might lose herself physically too if he would continue to harm her like this. Her eyes glossed up by staring at that flower which somehow made her feel her own self in it. Prisila walked towards her, and found her looking down at that shrivelled flower instead of those beautifully blooming flowers in front of her. Her eyes chose to see the worst of inevitable end instead of the beauty of a fading beginning. “I think, the gardener…..” Prisila stopped herself from further speaking when she noticed a tear falling from Eizlina's eyes and dropping on that dying flower.