Wild Flower Novels & Stories

But the fog pulses behind him like a living thing, and something in me knows he’s right. Still, I take a step. He sighs deeply, as though he knows I wasn’t going to give up this easily, then pulls something from his pocket. It’s a flower. Unlike anything I’ve ever seen. The petals shimmer, iridescent and darkly crimson, shaped like drops of blood caught mid-fall. Its stem curls like it’s alive, pulsing faintly with energy I can’t name. “This flower only grows in the Hollow,” he says, holding it out to me. “It’s considered a herald of change when it appears.” His eyes narrow on mine before he adds, “It smells like berries.”

swirled in her mind, each one pointing toward the answer they both were too afraid to touch. She followed the instructions, burying those unremarkable seeds into the soft soil. She watered them. She made sure they had sun. Day after day. It became a secret hidden from the rest of her suffocating life. The sprouts grew into stems, then leaves, and finally, buds. When the first flower finally trembled into bloom, Elena held her breath. White Hyacinths. The petals were pure, clustered together in a delicate, elegant spike. As she watched the flower release its fragrance in the sunlight, she felt a sudden urge to look up its meaning.

A dangerous feeling for someone like me. When I reached my office, I unlocked the door and pushed it open and froze. A bouquet sat on my desk. Not roses, not lilies, not anything grand or pretentious. Wildflowers. Soft purples and blues. Tiny white blossoms with frayed, delicate petals. The kind of flowers that grew where no one bothered to look. Beautiful, quiet, resilient. My breath left me in one quick exhale. A small card rested in front of them. My fingers trembled as I picked it up.

In this tranquil oasis, he felt a profound connection to the intricate web of life and an appreciation for the beauty that thrived amidst adversity. A lush meadow spread out before him, carpeted with emerald-green grasses that swayed gently in the breeze. Wildflowers adorned the landscape, their vibrant petals bursting with hues of crimson, gold, and azure. Their delicate fragrance perfumed the air, adding a touch of enchantment to the surroundings.

Isabella hurried after her, wishing she could stop to enjoy the fresh, spring-green smell of the trees and shrubs. 'You mustn't bother the ducks,' she called. 'Connie, look at the waterfall.' 'Waterfall?' Connie was temporarily distracted from the birdlife. 'Over there.' Isabella pointed to curtain of emerald-coloured water cascading like mermaid's hair down a wall of rocks at the far end of the nearest lake. 'Oh, it's pretty. So are those purple flowers growing in the grass. What are they?' 'Crocuses. They're called crocuses.'

"This is purple larkspur." Her nose wrinkled in a way that made him want to kiss it. "You nicknamed me after a flower? That seems like something more suited to Pru." "It's a wildflower that grows here in the Smokies. Wildflowers are pretty amazing things, actually. They look all soft and delicate, but they're actually surprisingly tough. They grow and bloom where they're planted, no matter the conditions. You've done that all your life, wherever you landed. And I picked this one because it symbolizes an open heart, because it grows here, where you gave me yours."

the woman replied with confidence. “Ma'am, can you tell me more about the white rose, I mean, I didn't even know they existed.” “Oh, you're are only familiar with the red ones. Well, all I can say about the white rose is, it's beautiful, extremely rare, and expensive. One of a kind, if I may say.

He just kept walking until he stopped when something caught his attention. A pair of butterflies chasing each other greeted him. Mort followed them and took him to a mountain where he effortlessly climb until the wildflowers opened to him like cotton candy that glowed in the sun setting on the horizon. The horde of dandelions wildly disperses beautifully on the meadow. Mort blew at the round dandelion, causing the white seeds to fly all around the green meadow on a cliff over the ocean and sea.

I felt stupid; my brain couldn’t make sense of the simplest things. I cracked my eyelids open. Dawn sat heavily in the sky, a bloated sun dancing just above the horizon. The last open buds of the night-blooming wildrush, a delicate white flower that looked like dancers with their legs wide and flowing, dotted the canopy of greenery that hid us, for the most part, from view. Dew dotted the leaves and stray strands of grass carpeting the woodland floor.

He held the power to bring a smile to my face when I was going through unbearable pain. It glowed lighter. revealing a pair of eyes, it was also a part of a burning fire. My lower lip trembles from all the emotions consuming me, he was here he was holding me. I couldn't speak and just stared at him. A black wing sparking with an amber glow rested on my forehead and a bright red flower landed on my chest, cracking sparkles around it. I had read about it in the Herbology book. FlammaFlos! It's a powerful plant and the Queen of Faerie guards them. I saw Cassandra but her sight wasn't clear. It's given for a new life.