Wilting Flower Novels & Stories

The petals were thin ice crystals, each holding the shape of a lily, refracting countless beams of silver-white and pale gold into the sunlight. Freya watched the ice flowers. Her glacial meltwater was still flowing. Not frozen. Not blocked. Not diverted. The lily-of-the-valley hadn't fought it. It had simply flowed along with it, growing its own blossoms within its currents. Glacial meltwater had become the lily-of-the-valley's medium.

Unfortunately, the happy times were long behind them. Cassiopeia took out the pictures and tore off Lucas's figure from each one of them before throwing them into the trash can. Anya and she were the only ones that remained. Halfway through packing, she caught the whiff of a repulsive smell. She frowned instinctively. When she went to open the door, the smell grew sharper. When she had taken a few steps forward, she was hit with a heavy wave of nausea and almost lost her balance. She staggered a few steps before planting herself against the wall. Her head felt like mud.

But what she saw there made her breath catch in her throat. Some of the flowers which had been there, bright and beautiful just moments ago, had withered completely. The petals were brown and curled, as if they'd been dead for weeks. "How did this wither?" she muttered, kneeling down to examine them more closely. The roses that had been blooming perfectly were now shriveled husks. She looked back at Enrica, who was watching her with a worried expression, clearly not understanding what was happening. The older woman couldn't see what Eryndra was seeing - to her, the flowers looked the same as always.

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?

If you take life… I knelt near the back path where the hydrangeas still bloomed in their scattered pride—some pink, some blue, some white, as if they couldn't decide who they wanted to be. Lyra used to say they were shapeshifter flowers, always changing their truth depending on the soil. But one caught my eye. A single stalk. Smaller than the rest. Wilted and dry, slumped forward like it had given up. It wasn’t that far from the others—but still far enough to be alone.

She observed the empty courtyard before her eyes fell to the deep and rich colour of the flower which bloomed despite the season. The roses that bloomed in the courtyard were known as one of the rarest species that bloomed throughout the seasons. Yet, just as how all flowers do, they bloom and wilt at the same speed. Beautiful yet fleeting. How their fragile life reminded Lilith of the transient life of a person. "Would you like to head in, Your Majesty?" Lilith's retainer asked as he bowed. Lilith glanced at him from the corner of her eyes before heading towards him. "I shall."

Lady Iris had also been in the scene early, staring at the once white flower that had turned darker in color and how dull the veins crawling on the petals had become. Seeing this, she quickly rushed toward, Lady Catherine, muttering her mouth as if to say something. Although Rose couldn’t hear what she said, she could see the lady’s mouth moving as she went into the garden. Dominic also stood beside her as they had woken up together. “What’s the matter?” Dominic directly dropped his question, thinking there was no need of going around the bush. Lord Salem was the one who spoke, “Earlier morning your grandmother found your mother’s favorite flower had wilted. They are very resilient flower, s

"I can smell your scents." Maia froze for a moment because of the endearment that Oakley had called her. She knows what was the meaning of mimosa. Her vocabulary and knowledge were more superior to every average wolf due to her nonstop lessons when she was young. Mimosa is a flower also known as the touch-me-not plant. When touched lightly, its leaves collapse, two by two, until the whole cluster closes up. The harder you bump it, the faster and more strongly it reacts. "I-I did not. What do you want?" she grunted.

Mila cried again and the flower halted again. Mila plucked it and waited for it either shrivel up or blossom again. But nothing happened. Neither did the flower shrivel nor did it blossom again. And she knew it magic at its core. The bloom would blossom only when the flower in her hand would die, and it won’t die unless the flower in her hand was used.

"Hel..." "I want you in my room now!" The boss ordered. How much she hated his commanding attitude. "Haaahhh! I will kill you." She screamed and stormed out of the room, stamping her feet very hard on the ground. Xander chuckled when he saw her reaction after the phone call. 'She is such a wild flower' There was a loud bang on the door. He knew that it was only Ariande that would do that. "Don't pull down my door as you did my car." He shouted to her hearing. She opened the door and barged in.