Tyrese Gibson Black Rose Novels & Stories

’ Rose stood up leisurely, though it already late at night but she didn’t want to wait till the next morning and went straight to her walk-in vault behind the kitchen cabinet of Red Rose café. This time she crossed John Wen’s pic at the Pinboard. “Your work is over in my game so soon, I am so upset I couldn’t able to make you jobless and penniless, but god’s retribution never fails you got what you deserve.” Then she circled the photo of Alan Lee and Mark Taylor. “Count your days guys, now retribution towards you both.” Rose feels thrilled whenever she marks these photos, but the Pinboard in face of her always made her indignant and pushes her to the unfathomable fit of rage.

She had passed the usual red, pink, yellow, and orange roses. One rose bunch that caught her eyes was such a deep red, it was black. The edges of the peddles you could only see a slight hint of red and blue. She became mesmerized by these roses since she has never seen such a rose before. She could not identify the type of rose it was. She thought about a poem she once wrote when she saw a picture of the black rose, Baccara. Darkness blankets it’s peddles tainted, darkened, blackened

Like I had the power of life and death. The third one, however, I did not allow to burn entirely but only the edge of the petals. Half red and half black. Roses on fire. Suddenly, I let out a hysterical laugh until my cousin walked into the office, perhaps brought on by the smell or even my outbursts. “What the hell are you doing, Rick?” “Killing them!” I replied, keeping my fanatical grin on my face. “Killing roses…” he repeated as he approached. “You okay, bro?”

The warehouse was a cathedral of rust and shadows, situated on a jagged spur of the Italian coastline where the waves sounded like the low growl of a hungry beast. Sloane moved through the perimeter like a ghost made of obsidian. She had traded the white sundress for a tactical bodysuit of matte-black Kevlar, her hair braided tight against her skull. She didn't use silencers this time. She wanted them to hear her. She wanted them to know that the Black Rose hadn't just returned—she had evolved.

The next morning, Daisy walked out from the east wing and stopped the moment she reached the living room entrance. The curtains had been replaced with new ones. A white tablecloth covered the coffee table, which was filled with fresh flowers. Candles flickered gently atop the fireplace mantel. Daisy stood frozen at the doorway for a moment. Caleb stepped out from the side. He had on a dark gray suit. His hair was neatly styled, and he held a navy blue velvet box in his hand. Daisy looked at him silently. Caleb walked over to her, opened the box, and dropped to one knee.

I should certainly make a YouTube channel to show off my uniqueness; I'm sure I'll gain a large following within a short period of time. The average Percusian is very tall and slim, just like the Fulanis of Nigeria, although we're usually light-skinned. Most of us have brilliant golden hair that is straight and natural, similar to peroxide blondes, but mine is jet black and develops bouncy curls when I don't wrap it. This, coupled with my caramel skin makes me stand out, but not in a bad way. Almost everyone I come across thinks I'm very beautiful and distinctive, except the glam girls, of course. I'll tell you about them later, don't worry.

I watched in confusion as Alec pulled a black rose from his back pocket and held it up. What are they going to do with a rose? I don't understand. “This Rose is symbolic of what we are. We grow, and we stay strong. We are black in hearts and black in minds. We do what we have to do for our family. It's a rite of passage and has been for generations. You will accept this rose from your new masters.” Zane says, as he brings my pointer finger down hard on a thorn before making my blood drip on top of the rose.

Stephanie yelled as she looked into the box. "W-what? What's wrong?" Khloe asked before she looked in? There was a rose, a single Rose, but it was unlike any she had ever seen before, it had black petals and was placed in a small puddle of blood. Another thing that was strange about this rose was that it was burning, but a very low burn like at any moment it would go out" And it stunk, real bad. So bad she had to take a step back. Stephanie lifted the rose from the box, "Are you crazy mother? You'll get burnt!" Khloe yelled horrified but was shocked when it didn't hurt her, however, half the petals turned to ash and disappeared into thin air,

"Rosette, you are who you are and who you want to be. Don't let anyone aside from you tell you who you are and make you doubt yourself. Be strong in your perception about yourself, Rosette. Always." I swallowed, tears clogging my throat. Was it possible to love him anymore than I already did? "I love you, Felix." "I love you too, Rosie. Now is that idiot by any chance a curly haired blond?" My mouth dropped open, how on earth did he know? "How...?" "Seems like he's the one. It's Jason Clove, he was an absolute jerk when he was still here, was your senior,and he liked you. Had a crush on you and...

“Come on, man. Rosa’s looking hot tonight. She keeps smiling at you, and you’ve only got eyes for your beer.” Rome looked over at Rosa. She was hot. Long, red hair, and legs that never ended. She was definitely someone he’d be interested in getting to know better--if it weren’t for that phone call earlier. All he could think about was Ella. He’d even looked around the club, wondering if any of these girls could be her. But none of them looked like the picture he had of her in his mind. Dark hair, wide eyes, a beautiful smile…. No, he had a feeling his Ella wasn’t here tonight. “You should at least get up and dance,” Bart said, nudging him with his shoulder. “I need a wingman.”