Trampled Rose Novels & Stories

And everything in it, every little thing, too. Sitting on the hard floor hurts his skinny ass, but it's such that he hardly pays attention to it. Alas, the fairy tale ends, as always, too quickly. She thanks the audience — Louis understands that. The sounds of music freeze. Musicians cover their instruments. Lou remembers the armful of roses forgotten on the table. The most common roses. Blood Red. Spiked. No smooth stems, to hell with them... Thanks to the travel agency, and they helped with this. It's good that he even remembered that women love flowers... You have to love.

There'll be mountain for us to climb, There'll be days when the sun won't shine, But, I'll stick to it, I swear. ------------------------------------ MIKAEL I stared at the rose imprinted on my upper arm, exasperated. The rose was still a bright red, fortunately for me. Just as I started to turn away from the mirror, I saw the rose turn blue. Then, it turned red as quickly as it had turned blue. Another wave of dizziness washed over me and I gripped the sink hard, my knuckles turning white.

At that moment, it felt as though the forest held its breath with me as if it was sharing its secrets with anyone who would take the time to listen. As I continued walking, I was about to turn down a path to head to my desired location when I stepped on something soft. Looking down, it was a rose. A white rose, specifically, just like the ones in my mother’s favourite rose bush on the castle grounds. I knelt, resting my elbow on my knee as I picked up the crushed flower and examined it. It was clearly plucked from the bush recently, as aside from being stepped on, it looked fresh, but it seemed peculiar for it to have been picked and then discarded. Before I stepped on it, it seemed to have

I stepped forward, picking up the roses from the ground. I noticed that these roses had been carefully trimmed of their thorns and were of a very rare variety. "Mrs. Todd, this old man broke the flowers that Mr. Winston prepared for everyone and disturbed everyone. I'll have someone take him out." I said, "It was an accident. Could you please prepare a new basin? Since these roses on the ground were specially brought by Mr. Winston, it's a pity to just let them be admired. Why not ask the ladies present to take one in hand and feel Mr. Winston's intentions?"

I looked down at the pretty flowers and saw a droplet of my own tears fall onto them. “My love.” “It was supposed to be a trap, Cassiel. A trap that could go wrong. Why involve cameras? Why risk—” the bouquet was ripped from my hands and tossed to the floor as Cassiel pulled me into a fierce hug. “My flowers.” I sobbed, clutching the sides of his shirt.

“You okay, bro?” “Never better. Take a closer look at this rose. What do you see?” I asked him, waving the half-dead burnt flower in his face. “Just a burnt flower and an odd cousin. Are you sure you are, ok? You don’t seem so” He was being overly concerned. I walked around the table and ended up standing right in front of him. “Take a second look!” I insisted in an even more persuasive tone. “Okay, I’ll help you a little. This burnt flower, as you call it, is my next victim,” I explained as I lasciviously stroked the burnt velvet petals.

I didn’t ask more questions and trusted Trevor completely. After a few minutes, we stepped into a clearing bathed in soft morning light. My breath hitched as I took in the sight before me. A field of red roses stretched out like a sea of crimson, but these weren’t ordinary roses. Each delicate petal had silver markings, shimmering softly under the sunlight, as if kissed by moonlight itself. I gasped. “Trevor… these are…” “The legendary red roses of Silver Rose Pack. The locals called it Silvermarked Roses,” he said gently.

“Did you get the flowers?” I tilted my head. “The roses?” He nodded, smiling, waiting for praise. “Yeah. Thought you’d like them.” I crossed my arms loosely. “I threw them out.” The smile cracked. “You what?” “I trashed them,” I said flatly. “I hate roses.” For a second, he looked almost offended. “Who hates roses?” I laughed under my breath, no humor in it. “Me. Unless you’re confusing me with Kimberly.”

I opened my own studio, and my days became full, vibrant, and happy. One night, Jordan stepped out of the shower, a towel slung loosely around his waist. As he turned, I caught sight of a tattoo on the small of his back. I leaned closer. It was a rose in full bloom—beside it, a little girl dancing. My fingertips trembled as I traced it, my eyes stinging. "I had it done when I was seventeen," he said softly. His gaze lowered to mine, eyes shimmering with starlight. "I wanted to keep it a secret until the day you became my bride."

Jade replied shamelessly, "Oh, come now, they've known each other since they were kids. We're together! I'll let Allen take Rosie's name if that's fine with you." She then signaled for Allen to come over, but Allen did not budge. My mother smiled and said, "I've told you: it's better for our families to not have any further dealings. Stop all your bullcrap and get straight to the point." Jade's expression turned awkward as she said, "Actually, I came to apologize. Please have mercy on us. The Walters can't take this anymore!" "Why not? But Allen must admit that he was engaged with Rosie, and Lydia has been the third wheeler all along."