Wilted Flowers Book Novels & Stories

I watched the flower withered in my hands as the sunrise slipped its rays in my room through the partly opened curtains. No wonder Grip left the curtains a bit open. Witnessing how the flowers withered was fascinating. I grabbed a book Behind the Pages and opened it to a random page. I placed the flower between the pages and closed the book before returning it to its usual spot. I already finished the book two days ago and it was an excellent read. I was introduced into a whole new and magical world. I went to the bathroom and prepared for school. After taking a shower, I went out of the bath and my nose was welcomed by a sweet aroma in the air. On the middle of the bed sat a tray filled wit

I could feel it stretch the corners of my mouth, warm and sharp and a little dangerous; even my inner wolf couldn’t mask it. Cleanup on instinct, I turned to the lunar flowers on my table already wilting, giving up their magic under the dry room’s breath. I fished them from the chalice, careful, and set about preserving the delicate stems for my journals. There was no way I’d toss them into the refuse. Vickon had never sent me flowers before. Tribal tradition or not, that counted for something. But that little burst of pride didn’t last. In fact, it was over in a heartbeat.

Flora Amor acted as though she didn’t hear a thing and walked straight into the office. “Damn you! You bitch! I’m talking to you!” Veron screamed after her. Ignoring her still, Flora Amor stepped inside—and stopped. A bouquet of roses sat on the desk, along with an invitation card. Curiosity nudged her forward. She picked up the card. A wedding invitation. Dixal and Shelda’s wedding. Her brows lifted. 'Who commissioned this—Shelda?' A bitter laugh spilled from Veron behind her. “What? Shocked? Even you couldn’t escape Dixal’s games. Three days from now, he’s marrying Shelda. All your fantasies about him end there.”

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.

The fact that Phoenix had to fight the last group of hunters without her help made the situation many times more dangerous and deadly. Rowena bent down instead of answering me. She plucked a flower bud from the ground. “These wouldn’t bloom for a few more months.” She said as she raised the flower for me to see. Then I felt a warm draft. It was faint and barely noticeable, the kind of thing that I could easily pass as my own imagination even. The flower immediately began to move. It opened right before my eyes and beautiful colors were revealed. It was a pretty sight, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Soon, the flower began turning black and it bent down after died. After that, it disint

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.

CHAPTER THREE -WILHELMINA- I sat listlessly at my vanity, staring at the vase of red roses my soon-to-be husband had sent. The flowers stood tall and proud, their petals unfurling like a lover's promise, but they offered her no solace. The reality of my situation seeped further into my mind as the fresh scent of the roses tainted the air, reminding me of the prestigious life I would soon be entangled in. My heart throbbed within the cage of my ribs, akin to a bird desperately trying to escape its confines.

Beth flicked a flower petal and pulled lightly on a dead leaf, removing it from the main plant. "Yes, it has. I traded flowers with Lady Witte. A few primroses and snowdrops for pansies." Lady Marjorie said, touching the flower plant beside her. "Don't you just love this flower? They appear haunted, but are one of life's best. They symbolize nostalgia and remembrance." She stood up. "But no matter how charming they are, we would not talk about them, I think we should gather and source…" Beth walked farther, crossing over to the other side. She studied the flower the Dowager Duchess spoke of; her new interest. It had a distinct look of melancholy and thoughtfulness, and the more she stared at

Prisila uttered, trying to lighten up Eizlina's mood a bit because she could clearly see how distressed and disturbed Eizlina was looking, so she attempted to call her mind a little. Eizlina looked at her and saw her pointing towards a bunch of flowers. She didn't know their names. They looked unique and extremely beguiling. She had never seen them before, but their beauty couldn't keep the attention of her eyes for long because her gaze automatically trailed towards a flower, which had fallen from its plant on the ground. It was looking extremely dry and on the verge of dying. Eizlina walked towards that flower. Bending down, she collected that dried up flower in her hand and silently gazed

"Enjoy your day. I can’t wait to see you later." Celia rolled her eyes. "Who even attaches this kind of dumb note to such wonderful flowers?" She inhaled the delicate fragrance of the flowers, letting the scent linger for a moment before glancing around the room. Spotting a vase by the window, she walked over and carefully arranged the bouquet inside, adjusting the stems until they sat just right. Stepping back, she admired how the soft petals contrasted against the glass, their beauty almost distracting her from the irritation bubbling inside her.