Wilted Flower Novels & Stories

While he was doing so, I focused my attention on a large rock with a flower on one side. I immediately sat in front of it and saw it more clearly. Because it grew in rocky terrain, it may have withered because it didn't get enough nutrition and its roots couldn't crawl properly. I didn't hesitate any longer and pulled it out, thankfully with little damage to its root. I stood up and placed the withered flower in my palm. I turned to face Mino, who was just sitting on the rock, waiting.

~ Collins pov~ Immediately after the tour,we went to our different homes,I made sure Flora was out of sight before following her. Am tired of all the crap going on,flora and this school.All the student blood especially Flora's makes me want to feast. I am only transferred to this because of what I intend to collect from Flora,just a little if her blood can do wonders. it can improve the strength of any vampires,it can heal a wounded wound. I only need her to transfer some blood to my dad who's heal.

Lucian spoke in a possessive type of calm as he looked deep into my eyes before his own gaze drifted to this man, the once tamed darkness he held whenever he looked at me, now on show for this man who shuttered in fear before his beautiful eyes locked with mine again. “Convallaria Majalis or better known as Lily of the Valley, is one of the deadliest flowers you can grow, e-each area of the plant is poisonous and when crushed into a powder like this, it’s deadly.” I quietly explained what I knew about this flower and the deadly consequences it carries if not handled correctly, where in Lucian’s eyes, there seemed to be a mixture of emotions.

They were the only flowers that bloomed during the night and wilted before the sun rose. I walked to the plant, but stopped when I felt a soft crunch. I looked down to see a couple of wilted and dried-out morning glories on the ground. What are they doing here? I picked them up and I immediately felt a negative flow of energy coming from them. They should have been fully bloomed, but they were dead. Why? Morning glories are also known as moon flowers. And in the list written by Zora, it was mentioned that Max wouldn't be able to touch anything holy without destroying it.

I walked along a hidden stone path through an overgrown courtyard until I stopped dead in my tracks. Standing right in the center of the garden was an enormous, glowing wisteria tree. It was breathtaking. The long vines of purple flowers hung down like glowing curtains, giving off a soft, faint silver light that lit up the entire yard. But as I stepped closer, my heart sank a little. The tree was rapidly withering. Half of the hanging flowers were brown and brittle, falling onto the damp grass like dry dust. The thick bark on the trunk looked cracked and dry, like the life was slowly draining out of it day by day.

This was the perfect distraction, but now that it was over, the thoughts of earlier slammed into my brain. “Something happened earlier…” I whispered. He kissed the top of my head gently and his fingers traced my spine. “What is it?” He asked, sleepily. “I was walking home, and I saw a flower that wilted,” I told him slowly. “I stopped to look at the flower, feeling sorry for it.” “You felt sorry for a wilted flower?” He asked and I could hear the smile in his voice. I lifted my head so I could look at him as I nodded.

Dead. I knelt as I picked them up. The petals were almost dried, the edges brownish and curled like they had been left in the cold for too long, the stem weak. I touched one petal lightly, and it broke apart under my finger. My stomach twisted. This wasn't a mistake. This was a message. White lilies had a variety of symbolic meaning, and one that stood out much was grief, mourning, death. But what did withered white lilies mean?

My steps lead me outside, into Elena’s garden. I shiver from the cold once I open the glass door. But all the cold is forgotten the instant I notices the state of her garden. All the roses that once bloomed in rich colors, now hang wilted, with petals shriveled and brittle stems. A pang of sadness grips me. It feels symbolic, somehow, this garden is fading as quickly as its owner’s strength I crouch near one of the bushes and brush my fingers over a dead bloom. Maybe some of them can still be salvaged if trimmed, watered and cared for. But most are too far gone.

Evangeline was spinning in circles with anxiety, frantically dialing more floral suppliers. But at this hour, most calls either went unanswered or couldn't get through. Anathea stared at the white roses in the clear glass vase. Their petals were already starting to wilt. She would need to add flower nutrients if she wanted them to bloom back to life. Sighing, Anathea said, "Forget it. That's enough for tonight." "What?" Evangeline froze in place. Lena also looked confused. "It's late. No matter how anxious we get, it won't help right now. We should rest. Good night." Anathea stood up and went into her room.

He doesn’t deserve it after everything. As I clear the coffee table, my eyes fall on the vase. The roses Damien bought me a few days ago. They’re now wilted, dry and brittle. My chest tightens, and I freeze, staring at the dying flowers. Tears blur my vision, and before I can stop it, they spill over, rolling down my cheeks in hot, uncontrollable streams.