The Fragrant Flower Blooms With Dignity Novels & Stories

"Like the princess, tea, or flower?" I glanced at him from the corner of my eye, a smile growing on my face. "The flower. Why do you—why do you call me Bloom?" Zac shrugged lightly, looking out the window. "I assumed it was the flower. Blooming—as flowers do." I inhaled sharply. I was—flattered, I think. Confused. I didn't think Zac was someone who would put thought into a nickname. It—kind of made my heart tug. It was—just more thoughtful than I would have imagined Zac to be.

And when she opened her eyes and saw that exact woman by her side she whispered unintentionally “La… Candida” A woman that holds the whining, cries for justice, marches for victims, stands in face of the tyrant, and encourages the fighters for freedom. A woman that is like a majestic white flower standing alone facing the dark winds of the north. A woman pure and strong, that touches evil but never gets polluted. A woman called Flora, Flora La Candida, which means the pure flower.

I baked you some cookies to show that I am really sorry and also Merry Christmas! I made you a cheap present. I made it so it's priceless. Hope you like it. Remember my name is Dahlia, the beautiful flower that means Dignity and Elegance. I saw Lucas staring at me, awed as for the first time, I smiled, a genuine smile after reading the note with a flower scribbled at the end of the note that maybe was a dahlia by the shape of it. That girl was definitely not elegant but her name was as beautiful as her.

"Here, take my hand. Even if you fall, I'll be there to help you stand back up again" His Flower's Point Of View The thick stench of blood was strong in the smoke filled air. My nose wrinkled as I inhaled the scent. My instincts had me gagging, maybe too loudly. Another scream echoed from not too far away and I squeezed my eyes shot, willing the horrifying sound of pain to disappear. A small sound of desperation escaped my parted lips and I froze in my position. That was loud. More loud than I thought it would be.

I had always wondered why he called me this but never thought to ask him why, because every time we were around one another, we bickered. Walking towards my bed, I turn around to face him and lean against the four poster canopy. I shake my head, “No, but I always wondered.” He then walked up to me until we were a few inches apart. “Because the flower represents innocence, purity and new beginnings.” he says and he peers down at me. “That and your signature perfume is ‘Daisy’ by Marc Jacobs.”

her mother replied, though her own hands trembled. “Quiet now. It’s almost our turn.” Flora Amor drew a deep breath, steadying herself. This was her moment—her grand wedding to the man who had never abandoned her, no matter how difficult she had been. The song, Beautiful in White, floated into the air. Every head turned toward the opening shuttle bus. The crowd barely blinked as they waited. “Wow,” voices breathed in unison when the shimmering front of her gown appeared. She descended slowly, her mother following close behind, arranging the train of her dress. Once outside, Flora Amor greeted everyone with a radiant smile.

The bouquet she carries is enormous, spreading out like a soft pink umbrella, perfectly rounded, each blossom carefully arranged as though cradled by light itself. "Yes," I murmur. "Perfect." "Would that be all?" she asks, eyes glinting with the subtle hope of a tip. "Yes," I reply simply, swiping my card. Ahmed takes the bouquet carefully, and we step back into the afternoon sun. The weight of the flowers fills the car with a faint, delicate fragrance. A scent that already reminded me of her.

The bloom seems to glow with its own inner light, untouched by the rain that has soaked everything else. I reach for it with trembling fingers, half-expecting it to dissolve at my touch like so many dreams have done. But it remains solid and real under my fingertips, its stem strong despite the hostile soil from which it grew. The scent that rises from its petals fills my lungs like a benediction warm and familiar, carrying none of the corruption I expected.

Freya’s nails, which were cut like daggers, sliced against Cassiopeia's cheek, leaving a visible claw mark. Cassiopeia was bewildered by what Freya was saying. "I don't know what you are talking about. Let me go." "You’re still lying!" Freya gestured at the pale-looking Liam, who was lying on the bed, and teared up. "Liam is only four years old and just had a kidney transplant. How can you be so cruel to him? Aren’t you a mother too?"

Her eyes glittering like some spark of diamond, making me to get close to her, stammering her words. I couldn't get to stay nonchalantly, my curiosity over whelming me. A beautiful scent flower. The most beautiful flower I have ever seen,the scent sending the soothing relaxation in the atmosphere. For the first time, I don't know, but I held the flower which must have cost this person a fortune. " Babe,this is a natural flowers.". She exclaimed suprisenly as her eyes kept looking at it. " But who must have been sending this..like am scared". My fear trying to over take me.