Withering Roses Novels & Stories

They want to dismantle the hierarchy of the entire wolf kind. "Who’s your contact?" I demand, stepping back. "How are you moving across borders unseen? Who’s feeding you intel?" He grins up at me, his teeth stained red. "The Rose." My heart hammers against my ribs. "What did you say?" "The Rose," he whispers, a look of reverence crossing his twisted face. "She blooms in the dark. She carries the scent of the garden and the poison of the grave. She opened the door for us." Wild roses.

REJECTED Rose's parents gave him deaf ears because the more he apologized, the angrier they got. It was hard for them to behold his presence as it made them imagine his guts for still apologizing after causing the demise of their daughter. Rose's father, Mr. Gabriel almost strangled him to death but was held back by his wife.

Raven slowed as they passed beneath the first arch. The roses were wrong. Not dead. Not dying. But… drained. The deep crimson petals had faded toward pale, as though something had leeched the color from them without touching their form. Victoria reached out, brushing one lightly. It crumbled at her touch—not into dust, but into something softer. Ash-like. Hollow. Her expression darkened. “That’s not natural decay.” “No,” Raven said quietly. “It’s not decay at all.” She stepped further in. The air grew thinner.

He wondered. Some moments later, the large gate opened for them to go in. A long tiled road came into view. It was such a beautiful setting. At each side of the road, beautiful flowers and tress were planted. They were still in Saint Hok but Dante felt like he entered another world entirely. They passed through a vineyard and an orchard. The apples on the apple fruits looked too good to eat.

But instead, it felt like a graveyard. The roses were cloaked in frost, their once-blooming petals curled inwards like they, too, were mourning. The air was unnaturally still. Not a single breeze stirred the leaves, not even the trees dared to whisper. Something was wrong. … Song of the chapter: Will Be Back by Sunhae Im

"They're trying to preserve their stored experiences, but the blight is too strong." The roses that had once whispered Eleanor's memories now writhed in their beds like living things in torment, their thorns black with supernatural poison. As Iris watched, one of the oldest specimens gave a final, keening cry before collapsing into ash, taking with it decades of carefully preserved moments between Eleanor and Damien.

he asked staring into my eyes like they held answers. I hated the fact I couldn't understand what he said but the fact that he referred to me as a rose made me happy. He tore away from me and stood to his feet, rubbing his face with his palm, trying to catch his breath. I couldn't meet his eyes. For the first time in my life, I didn't know what to say so I just sat quietly, waiting for him to say something. Images of what just happened kept replaying in my head like a movie and a shameful part of me wanted to repeat everything again.

And though the road ahead seemed shrouded in darkness, I knew that Rose's light would guide me through the shadows, a beacon of hope in the depths ___ The weight of loss hung heavy upon me as I stood by Rose's freshly dug grave. Her absence felt like a gaping wound in my heart, a painful reminder of the fleeting nature of life. With somber reverence, I placed a single red rose atop her burial mound, a silent tribute to the love we once shared.

I'd been in a secret relationship with Nathan for six years. He said we couldn't go public because of his career. So we always split the bill, and anniversary gifts never cost more than fifteen dollars. The night before our anniversary, I asked him for the sixth time when he'd come home with me to meet my family. He turned me down again. "Ivy, I just think things are moving a little fast. Marriage is a lifetime commitment, after all." So I went home alone, carrying the expensive cheese and wine he'd bought for my mom. I pushed open the door and found the living room trashed. My stepsister Chloe stood there with a smug grin on her face. "Mrs. Mercer, you owe my family a million dollars. You'v

Its petals, once vibrant and full of life, were now delicate and brittle, its color faded over time. As I held the dried rose, an unexpected image flashed before my eyes. It was Stassie, her radiant smile lighting up her face. It was a smile that could outshine the sun, a smile that had the power to make anyone's day brighter. The rose, in its silent beauty, reminded me of her.