Withered Flowers Novels & Stories

They were dying now — petals brown at the edges, stems soft and drooping. She should throw them away. She didn't.

One thing Maebh is certain of: the Blood Rose is beautiful. “It’s a withered blood rose. It cannot be used,” Romaine said as she sipped from her glass that contained a passion fruit juice. The flower turned slowly brownish. Its texture is like that of a vintage paper that can easily be crumbled. “I know. It’s just that I am admiring the flower despite it being withered. It’s so beautiful even though it’s already dead, how much more when it's a vibrant and alive one?” “Hide that, honey. She might see that and will kill you in your own orchard instantly,” Ludwig warned her.

I was confused, as there were no withered flowers during my first round. "What's going on?" I asked, looking around at the mess of wilted leaves that were not there before. Elvina came forward and explained, "The gardener must not have much knowledge about how to keep flowers alive in the winter properly, so they are dying slowly." I nodded, still feeling uneasy. It didn't feel right to me that the flowers were dying so quickly, and it was strange that the gardener hadn't taken better care of them. But I didn't say anything, not wanting to cause any more trouble.

She rushed over and slapped me hard, pointing at the black shrouds draped throughout the house, shouting, “You little brat! Are you insane? Do you want to die? I see you’ve gone mad! “You called to curse your Grandpa into prison, and now you hang these shrouds in the house? What do you think you’re doing?” Sophia, linking her arm with Mom’s, tried to appease her. “Yes, Charlotte, you can’t be upset just because Mom and Ethan went to Moonlake with me and didn’t bring you. “Look at all this is so morbid! And cursing Grandpa… Please don’t do that. Next time, we’ll take you with us, okay? Don’t blame me. I’m sorry…”

Whenever another woman tried to get close, his response had always been the same—he would raise up his hand with the wedding ring on and say, "Sorry, I have to be with my wife." Everyone who knew us was aware of his "devoted husband" behavior, and they all envied me for being deeply loved by a dedicated and outstanding man like Benjamin. And so the back-and-forth flirty messages on his WhatsApp account felt like a dagger that stabbed into me over and over again. It was absolutely disgusting. I pushed away the unruly head he had affectionately nudged against me. "I'm going to get a glass of water," I said impassively. Benjamin grinned. "I'll get it for you, Lena."

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.

It was a beautiful thing that had caught my eyes and refused to let go. Now, I look at it and there is no life left in it. The cluster of wildflowers and their delicate colorful petals have withered and turned a sickly brown colour. The leaves that were once a vibrant green have lost their luster, drooping and curling in on themselves as if they can no longer bear the weight of the flowers. The petals, once so delicate and colorful, now look as if they have been drained of their life force, clinging to the wilted stems like a desperate cry for help.

"If I refuse?" Abigail reached for a vase opposite her and picked out a flower. Her free finger hovered over delicate white rose petals. I watched the tip of her fingers glow red as she channeled into the flower. The vibrant color started to fade, the petals wilting and shriveling before my eyes, turning brown and lifeless. "This," she said softly, holding up the withered flower for me to see, "is what happens when you defy me." The symbolism wasn't lost on me. Alaric's life would be in danger.

The petals were dry and brittle, and the stems were bent and broken, as if they had been battered by the winds of time. As I looked at the withered flowers, I couldn't help but feel a sense of emptiness. This place had once been a source of peace and beauty, a place where I could escape from the world and simply be surrounded by nature's majesty. But now, it was just a shell of its former self, a bleak and desolate landscape that was as much a reflection of my own heart as it was of the world around meI turned to Freya and asked her if she would like to see the breathtaking view around the mountains. Her eyes lit up with excitement, and she eagerly agreed.

I wasn't about to wreck a home. "So dumb." I wipe my eyes on my knees, but the tears don't stop. I look up and can see people making their way through the trees towards me. I sniff and rest my chin on my hands. My eyes trail down, and through my blurry vision, I can see dozens and dozens of flowers blooming around me. I furrow my brow, wiping at my eyes again and moving to sit on my knees and crouch over the flowers. I hadn't wiped my hands on the ground, but they were still blooming. Pink ones, purple, white. Still smaller than a quarter, but slightly bigger than the last ones I made bloom. And there were a lot more of these too. They continued to appear around where I sat as I watched.