Withering Roses Novels & Stories

Ruby said in despondency. "You and I are very much the same. Self-loathing, regret, and vengeance is a poison that kills you more than it does to your enemy. Don't make the same mistakes that I did. Don't let anger blind you, you are always better than yourself." A strong wind blew making the maiden squint to avoid getting dust and particles in her eyes. The petals of the flowers were lifted by the wind and carried across the sky making them rain down around the girl. Ruby looked back to where her companion was sitting but found her spot empty. The teacups they were drinking from also faded making her wonder if the events that just unfolded were actually true or just figments of her imaginat

Her father died unexpectedly and left them in a sea of sorrow. Rosalia and her mother are living in a two-story house that her parents bought together. It’s a small house, but they’re happy there. She is strolling along the winding streets of the city. The streets are adorned with a delicate shower of cherry blossoms, their pale pink and white petals gently swaying in the breeze. Despite her efforts to catch a few in passing, the ephemeral nature of the blossoms eludes her grasp. As she is strolling along, the enchanting scene inspires a melody in her heart and a sense of melancholy as she realizes that this fleeting season will soon come to a close. This spring season holds a special place

The college girl I was sponsoring, Yasmine Reed, texted me that she was pregnant. She asked me what to do. She was only a sophomore. I told her to focus on her degree. Before my message was even sent, she blocked me. A few weeks later, I twisted my ankle. My best friend, Clara Barnes, brought me to the clinic. Clara pointed at a young couple standing outside the maternity ward. "If your husband were in town, he would pamper you just like that," Clara sighed. "I still don't get why he insisted on taking that project that faraway." I stared down at my phone. "Julian is doing it for our future. As long as he loves me, I don't mind." As we walked out, the couple turned the corner. The ma

The winter roses were in full bloom, their petals glowing silver under the moon, frost edging their thorns like delicate lace. Liera gasped as they stepped into the clearing. “Wow… I had only heard of them. Never seen them.” The frozen roses stretched before them, their blooms perfect and ethereal, silver frost sparkling on every petal. The garden was a hidden jewel of Ravencrest, a place few were allowed to enter. Ryke had come here often when the weight of his duties grew too heavy. Now, he watched Liera as she stepped closer, her green eyes wide with wonder, fingers reaching out to touch a bloom without disturbing the frost.

the man gropes for the word, and lands on it with an apologetic wince, “—he was hideous. Honestly. Burned, or scarred badly, all down one side of his face, I couldn’t stop looking. I felt terrible about it. Not a handsome man at all. I’m sorry, I don’t — is that helpful? I don’t know what’s happening.” And my heart drops straight through the bottom of me. Because a winter rose is not a coincidence. A winter rose handed to a stranger to carry through these exact streets, on this exact afternoon, the one afternoon I’ve left the estate — that is not chance. That is a message. Rosa de escarcha, he had called it. He said they only bloomed in the cold. That people think they’re fragile because the

He stayed in the car and waited. Holding a bouquet of white roses, Daisy slowly walked through rows of gravestones until she stopped in front of the one tucked away in the farthest corner. The stone bore only Dario's name and the years of his birth and death. In the photograph, he had on a black suit. His distinct features were exactly the same as the first time Daisy had met him. She placed the white roses in front of the gravestone and stood there silently for a long time. Finally, she said softly, "When I said I wouldn't forgive you, I meant it. But I don't hate you anymore either. Rest in peace."

Just the lingering stench of a ghost who had already probably left the scene. I didn't waste time checking the perimeter with my hands full. I marched up the grand staircase, my heavy boots thudding against the marble steps. Rodah shifted slightly in my arms, a soft, exhausted sigh escaping her slightly swollen lips, but she didn't wake up. She was completely spent from the terror and the frantic ride she had given my cock earlier behind that curtain.

She was telling me that only) "Shayari teased " Do not worry i know how to make her happy. "Zarun said with a wink " I will take my leave now, you both come together. "Shayari said and left from there " is my wife still angry with me? "Zarun asked " you did nothing to make me less angry "Zeenat said " Gulaab ka rang laal hona uski khasiyat hai Aur apni khafa hui begum ko manana hamari khasiyat hai (Rose being red is it's specialty and making my angry wife calm is mine) "Zarun said and handed a box to Zeenat

She pulls herself before facing me, ''Elis. My eyebrows furrow as I look down at her, seeing that her eyes are darkening with the amount of sadness clouding her happiness; showing how she's almost lifeless and already killing herself with the exact amount of sorrow. She's becoming weaker and weaker everyday, failing to hold on—failing to be happy. ''Do me a favour,'' She breathes. ''Don't do this to yourself, Rose.'' I mutter.

The only thing she actually admired about the display was the object hanging securely on the wall, proudly standing out amongst the pictures aligning the walls with fond memories, the simple center piece of the room that drew it all together. It was the beautiful rose painting that Chris had found stored away in the closet beside the stairs. Lifting up her hand, the brunette gently brushed away the dust that had collected on its oak frame, the specks of gray fluttering past her vision. Alina still didn't have a clue where it had come from, but she had to admit, upon closer inspection, that it definitely had a certain appeal to it. Floating in the middle of a black lake with realistic ripples