Unbloomed Flowers の小説・ストーリー

to them, so I’ve learned to ignore their presence in my house. My mom calls them “the intruders” because they always come and go as if this was their home too. I feel the name intruders is appropriate not only because they invade our home, but because they always act suspiciously like they have something important going on aside from the exotic flower import (that’s what my dad’s business does). They always wear suits and have a “don’t mess with me” attitude, which I find really excessive for men who trade flowers from South America and Asia.

And the blush that was barely receding was back again. "I'm not a pretty little flower, Roses are as pretty as they are dangerous." He scoffed, standing up and even from where he was standing, I could see that he'll tower over me. He straightened out his suit jacket. Eyes boring into mine. "The only dangerous roses are those with thorns Rose, and you my dear, you have no thorns. You're a pretty little flower, a harmless little flower." He walked towards me till he was standing right Infront of me, towering over me as expected, I craned my neck just too look at him. "I'll be taking my leave now pretty flower, say hi to Mr. Potter for me."

I sat on the edge of my bed, my gaze drifting across the room, landing on the small crystal vase on my nightstand. Inside sat the Midnight Rose I had found that morning. Its petals were a deep, velvety black that seemed to absorb the candlelight rather than reflect it. I knew from my research that the Midnight Rose was a forbidden bloom for Year One students — a Tier-4 botanical anomaly that fed on the emotional residue of its owner. Freshmen weren't allowed near them because their magic was too unstable to handle the flower's "hunger." I reached out, my fingers brushing the cool, soft edge of a petal. It felt like silk — the very thing I couldn't create.

The intoxicating fragrance seems to be emanated from the garden of flowers "Shook! Quick! Close your eyes! Don't look at the flowers, Run!!!" Audrey was reminded about a specific mystical plant described in their Plant Mysticism book. The description in the book, fits perfectly on what they are experiencing right now, The DEVIL SMILE FLOWER! It was actually a scary existence. It doesn't look harmful, but behind its harmless appearance hides its terrifying ability. The Devil Smile Flower is always in its bud form all year round. It will only bloom once it senses the presence of breath. Upon blooming, it will release a sweet scent but the most crucial detail is that, whoever saw the flower b

Julian’s eyes wandered to a clothing store next door that was opening the same day. [First Bloom] Julian looked at the sign twice. When he looked inside the window, he froze. A slender, graceful figure stood behind the counter. He stared in shock. Someone behind him nudged him impatiently. He snapped out of it and ran forward.

Right there, on my porch, sits a bouquet right on top of my balcony’s railing. Confused, I come out of my house again to look at the flowers. My mind is too chaotic earlier that I am so in a daze and don’t notice it. It is a combination of different wildflowers, nothing fancy, just bright, stubborn things growing in cracked earth. Not a single red rose or gardenia or lily, or any of those expensive, popular flowers. There’s also no suffocating artificial scene on it. Just green stems and petals that don’t apologise for being simple.

The quiet certainty of his presence. She should have moved. She did not. “This has happened before,” she said at last, her voice steadier. “Not like this. Smaller. Usually with flowers.” “Which flowers.” “Night blooming ones,” she said. “Anything that releases scent after dark.” Nathaniel absorbed that without comment. “Do you want me to remove them,” he asked. “No,” she said immediately, then paused. “Not yet. I do not want my world to shrink because of something I do not understand.”

he says I crouch down again doing it dramatically and take the bud a little roughly I am irritated doing the same thing for the whole bloody past week I touch the bud and will it to bloom glaring at it And it did bloom beginning to unfurl its petals still I didn't leave I don't know what came over me It bloomed it unfurled completely still I stared at it A white beam began to form below it I could hear Gorgon calling my name but I was in some trance I stared until the white beam enveloped the flower completely and then the flowers exploded into various tiny pieces and then everything turned black

Flowers were known to gleam, glow, overshadow the bits and empty pieces of spaces, pieces of blank, void, nothing. Flowers were meant to be pretty, look pretty, and not hurt when you pucker out your lips to bask with it with a pretty kiss. But then the flower blooms out and you pick out it’s thorn to tear I or you, and you are left wondering, fanning, and babying your your lips.