Wisteria Petals Novels & Stories

He looked down to see the two beautiful deep red and shocking white colored petals. Turning to get back to Stryxx, a 3rd blossom caught his eye. It was the exact opposite look from the other two. Remembering what Sage had said, and not knowing all the consequences in situations before have turned out ugly, he left the blossom there.

I mumbled before my vision became bright again. I watched the car park before Angelina’s parents stepped out. Mrs Wisteria moved to the back seat and opened the door before a little girl jumped out. That must be Greta. They went into the house and I followed them in. Before they could even do anything, Mr Wisteria was shot with a silver dart, rendering him paralyzed as his wife and daughter screamed out for him.

He had finally found the prescription that he could use to treat both of them, but unfortunately, he lacked one of the ingredients for the prescription. That ingredient was wisteria. However, they could not find wisteria on the mainland, and it was very scarce everywhere. Jasmine had eventually found out that there was wisteria growing on Montholm Island. As for this wisteria flower, it only had a shelf life of three days after getting plucked. There was no other way to transport it. So, three months ago, Jasmine had proposed to bring her grandfather and sister to Montholm Island with her, and she had asked Master Jenkinson to come along with them.

Anastasia One by one, the shewolves step forward, each offering a flower. White petals pass into my hands, soft and light, almost glowing in the quiet light around us. There's something about them that tugs at my chest—like I’m being trusted with something fragile and beautiful at the same time. Each flower feels like a piece of something bigger. I don’t even try to hold back the smile pulling at my lips. It grows with every step they take toward me, with every petal added to my arms.

God, she couldn't go through with this, could she? She then looked at Kristof's hands which were covered in satin purple gloves. There was nothing weird to be seen, but Spencer could picture it in her head. A stump instead of a hand. She cursed her decision from the night before. She should have looked at Kristof then. Maybe she wouldn't be so shocked right now. She felt she needed to throw up, right in front of all these people. Her feet dragged over the floor which was filled with little lilac flower petals. Above her head dangled hundreds of wisteria flower branches that let go of their petals every now and then when the wind softly blew. A soft rain of petals fell on her while she walked

It was beautiful. “It’s called wisteria,” Drew said softly, taking my hand and leading me towards it. “It’s one of my grandpa’s favourites… and my mom's.” The soft petals brushed my face as we walked under the hanging blooms, filling my lungs with a burst of freshness, and I sneezed a few more times. “It’s beautiful,” I muttered. “It’s poisonous to humans and animals to ingest,” Drew added and instinctively put a hand on Irwin. “No, he’s been trained to stay away from them. It was hard work, but he knows not to eat them. Now, this is the magical part.”

"Yes... yes... I’m okay. I’m just... I’m just..." His voice trailed off as his eyes fell on a cluster of pink and milk-colored petals shivering in the night breeze. Viburnum. They were the same flowers he had seen in the sprawling garden of the Wellman estate—the garden that had felt like a stolen paradise. He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingertips barely grazing the delicate, cool petals.

- WILLOW The afternoon in the West Conservatory felt like something out of a dream with twenty years of catching up over white roses. But by five o'clock, the sun was dropping fast, and my skin was itching. After a long afternoon of tea and quiet laughs, her eyes started getting heavy. I helped her up and led her back to the Wisteria Suite, her private bedchamber connected to the glasshouse, lined with soft lavender silks and the faint scent of fresh blooms.

Dried black rose petals are scattered across the floor. One piece shows Ashton’s eyes—wet with tears. Another shows a shadowy version of my bed, rumpled sheets like the last time we were together, with a figure curled up in the corner. There’s a gift box, still wrapped, with “To my love” on the tag. These are the Visions of Regret. In the center: a floor-length mirror, angled up toward the mirrored ceiling. The second section has eighteen pieces. A white Gerbera daisy on a yellow background is displayed at the top—its petals falling like rain. Again, each piece features petals. The bottom of the space holds vases overflowing with them.

"Yes, I want you to eat it." "But it's so pretty." And it was. A dark chocolate colored base was covered by what looked like a real cactus with a single budding flower with purplish petals so delicate they were almost transparent. "Just put it in your mouth already," Willow sighed. I snickered. "That's what she said." She laughed. "But in this case it's true." She waved me on. I plucked one of the petals, put it in my mouth. It melted on my tongue. The subtlest mint invaded my taste buds. My eyes widened.