This time he bought me roses. Their razor thorns grazed his face when I cracked them across his skull. They swung so smoothly through the air, whistling as they went.

Twelve bunches of flowers in the last sixty-four days. But the roses were lavish. She must have been special. His guilt oozed from every petal.

The first time was a bunch of weak wilting daisies. Puny and pathetic. She probably had mousy brown hair. Plain Jane.

They got better looking each time. One day it was elegant, slender tulips. The next week was bright beaming amber sunflowers. That bunch hurt. I wasn’t the smiling type.

But the roses were the finest of them all. Blossoming pink spheres. Velvet to the touch. Plump, ripe and undeniably beautiful.




72 Comment

  1. […] This is a work of creative fiction, created for the prompt: flower. […]

  2. […] This post is in response to the “Literary Lion” weekly Blog Event being organised by Laura Gabrielle Feasey. This event has now been converted into a bi-weekly event by her. The word prompt for this bi-weekly is “Flower”. You can read Laura’s post and other entries submitted by our bloggers by clicking at this Link. […]

  3. I posted my response to this literary lion prompt and pingbacked it which is appearing just above this comment. Thanks for extending the time period.

  4. […] Prompt courtesy of ismithwords’ Literary Lion. […]

  5. […] Literary Lion: Flower […]

  6. […] the way it scans. More would only be more in this case. Perhaps I’m inspired by Laura’s brilliant, short story. At any rate, let me know what you think of […]

  7. […] about the Literary Lion? Caution advised: You know what happened to the curious […]

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