Withered Flowers Novels & Stories

Of the dawning of a good night. The one right behind me was just beginning to open from its bud. The one behind that was fully bloomed. The one behind that was starting to wilt. And the one behind that hung limp in the snow. All of them should have been dead. It was a barren place in the dead of winter. Springtime flowers like these shouldn’t be surviving, let alone blooming. Thoughts felt heavy and weightless. I would have them, and then they would float away like the snowflakes that surrounded me.

Sarah Whitmore found Iris collapsed on the greenhouse floor just after sunrise, surrounded by wilting plants and scattered journals, her face streaked with tears and exhaustion. The sight that greeted her was both heartbreaking and terrifying: a woman driven to the edge of sanity by forces beyond normal human comprehension, clutching a dying flower while whispering desperate pleas to botanical specimens that seemed to whisper back.

"I am certain Karim must have stolen your bread when he was hungry or maybe still a boy. Listen, I will get you all the bread you need, but I really need you to help me. I cannot let him die, please." He turned to look at me. "You talk too much for an Omega. Where did you gather such confidence?" "Oh, I do not hear that a lot. Compliment accepted." He scoffed. "It is not a compliment. Look at these." He pointed to an area of what could have been a bush of beautiful flowers, but they were all withering away. "These flowers are withering and are no longer useful to the universe. I need you to uproot all of them and burn them."

- She tells me and I close my eyes inhaling and focusing on that fragrance - Yeah, I know, but I'm so lost - A tear escaped my eyes - so tired... - I know... focus on the sun, the sunflower will survive as long as there is sun. - I lost my sun, I lost all my stars - I curl up and hug my legs - I'm just a withered flower, a lifeless sunflower, without sun.

It seems it was not only I who reveled in this work. Being here is wonderful. I do not even consider it work though I am certain I have picked more than five hundred flowers already. "All these flowers," Vale states, plucking one off the stems, "it is only sad they will waste in the court. Taken from their home." Her eyes darken and my lips purse at her remark looking back to my patch of flowers. True. As everything that goes to the Night Court, they will perish there. Now that they were taken off their stems they would surely wither and die in the Night Court.

Vincent fell forward, collapsing into her arms, bloodied but alive, and his body shaking with shallow breaths. She held him tight, sobbing, “I have you…I have you…l've got you okay." The garden roared in fury. Every flower dried up at once, its red petals wilting back to black. The ground shook violently as it cracked wide beneath them. Vincent coughed, his voice weak as he whispered, “Camela…the ground…” The earth split wide open beneath them as rows of dead flowers tumbled into the abyss. The gigantic flower convulsed one last time before its roots tore free with a screeching sound, and sap sprayed everywhere.

Even he himself did not know the answer to that. All these years, Ivy had been pursuing him like a beam of sunlight–bright and relentless. He remembered the day he agreed to be with her. She had stood there in disbelief before breaking into tears of joy. He had never seen anyone look that happy. It was a sharp contrast to how she lay there like a withered rose at this moment, drained of all life. He did not understand why it bothered him so much. He did not want to see her like that. When she looked at him so helplessly, his heart ached a little.

"Farewell has finally blossomed, Cyclamen" PRESENT TIME Simple words with deep meaning... Yes. It was filled with fondness and compassion. If only it can bloom a Yarrow flower so it would be endless. Surprisingly, one bloomed. I was happy with glee until one day, its leaves were rotten. I was devastated... The leaves were rotten until it reaches the top. Petals have fallen... A Hemlock then bloomed beside it saying, You will be my death.

I was simply emotionless that day. Unconsciously, I brought my hand up and stroked it's petals. As my fingers and the petals met, fluffy white turned to dead brown. Flower slowly bent downwards, then it's leaves became brown eventually falling off. One by one until only the stem remained. It did not stop there. The brown began to turn black then to dust. Flower did not wilt that day, it disintegrated. Somehow I wasn't surprised at all. It's like Flower mirrored what I felt at that moment. I guess I wasn't surprised because I always knew that somehow there was an unexplainable connection between us.

Magda leads me around the car and opens the passenger door for me. Unsure, I climb in as I settle into the seat, feeling the coolness of the leather on my skin. As the jeep's engine fires up, I feel a swirl of emotions inside me. *** As Wolfgang drives, I focus on the beautiful scenery around us. The sun illuminates the extensive fields of the vineyard, where the vines stretch out in perfect rows. The vibrant colors of the ripe grapes contrast with the intense green of the leaves, creating an almost surreal image. The winding road led us through picturesque landscapes. The wind caresses my face, and for a moment, I feel that nature whispered in my ear, enveloping me in a tranquility that I h