Novel & Cerita The Black Rose

The hall was silent, except for Roses’ soft whimpers. Nightbane’s gaze never left me. His wolf—weak, dyin, still managed to claw through his eyes, burning red like a wound that refused to heal. “Fel,” he breathed. Just one word, but it shattered the walls I’d built. I staggered to my feet, clutching Roses. “What are you doing here?” My voice was raw, breaking. I handed Roses to my mother and clutched my chest, “You’re not supposed to—”

I said as I picked up the shot of the black rose. "It was lodged in his throat," Jamal said as he carefully watched me. "She did not need to know that," Issa said. "Who was he?" I asked. "A werewolf, I am still trying to figure out which pack he is from." Jamal replied. "The black rose..." I trailed. "Where did it come from?" "That's the difficult part," Jamal replied. "Black Roses do not exist." "And your forest analyst could not determine how they were made?" Issa asked, looking directly at Jamal.

Calling the council is something, I never wanted to do, they have old fashioned views on rogues that can be called barbaric, even to my taste. “Hello this is the council. Whom may I ask is calling and how may I direct your call?” “This is Alpha Hades Solaris, of the Blue Flame pack. I wish to speak with Elder Montgomery concerning The Red Rose.” “Why may I ask do you wish to speak to him about the Red Rose?” “Because she told us to call him.” “One moment please.” I am placed on hold for a short time, until a male voice sounds across the line. “Alpha Hades, I am Elder Montgomery.”

“Friends and families discount.” Ollie paid the florist and then put the box of lilies inside his backpack before he plucked a single red rose from one of the shelves to his left. “Here.” He placed the rose in my hand. “It matches your hair.” Then Ollie turned around and walked toward the door without waiting for me while I stood there with my cheeks turning the same shade of red as the rose in my hand.

“Whatever. You brought me here yourself.” I sit back and relax, watching people stand up one minute in anticipation of a goal and then slump down the next, disappointed. It seems everyone around me is supporters of black and gold except the two teenagers in my front. The one time black and gold scores. Everyone was cheering and singing, except for the two. They were booing.

*** "Sebastian? Sebastian! Sebastian where are you?" Gosh, where could he be? Zeke took the stairs to the back and proceeded to the green house. "Sebastian!" He called as he entered. He heard some rustling ahead by the rose plantation so he approached. He sighed he relief when he saw Sebastian sitting on a bench by the rose flowers. "Here you are." Sebastian didn't raise his head to him. Zeke joined him on the bench. Non of them said anything for the first two minutes until Zeke broke the awkward silence.

Alex said. “Alright, boss.” Rose was walking on the road. She chooses to be pedestrian rather than hiring a cab. While walking silently all alone on the road drown in her own thoughts, Rose felt something unusual. She turned around and found nothing. Rose thought it was her delusion and continued walking. A few moments later she again has an unusual feeling and turned around. Nobody was there except a black car. Rose glared at the car for a few minutes, then hires a cab and hop in.

As I put one of my feet inside of the warm and welcoming water filled with the petals of the beloved and most beautiful rose. I sometimes wonder why it has so much love being given to it. It is so imperfect, yet that is its perfection just like all of us--We are perfect and one because of the imperfections of us. I also wonder why a rose just steals my heart every time I look at it--it's just so magnificent. Is it because of the color that it possesses or because of the way it possesses the frail heart of mine? So melted in my thoughts that I was, I didn't realize that I had to get out of the bath to get ready.

“What does it mean?” His fingers brushed down my arm, slow, reverent, like he was grounding himself. “It’s a symbol of my pledge,” he murmured. “Of my obsession.” The words struck like thunder—beautiful and terrifying. “Black roses don’t die easy,” he continued, his eyes locked on mine. “They’re rare. They mean devotion, loyalty... vengeance. A promise that the wait was over. That I’d claim what was mine.” Me. “I didn’t know what you’d do with the roses,” he said. “Crush it. Burn it. But I had to send it. Because after everything—your silence, your pain, the scar—I knew one thing for certain.”

When the lady who sold flowers asked her, "Which flowers would you like to buy?" Melissa couldn't say a word but simply stared into space. She simply walked over to the section where the black rose was displayed. Alex didn't usually play with the black rose and the rose signified love and strength. As she took a whiff of the black rose, she stared at it as something that strengthened their love for each other even in his death. And when the lady who sold flowers told her the price, Melissa didn't say a word but immediately dropped a stash of cash and left.