The Flowers Of Buffoonery

"Flower, you are mine. Mine to hold. Mine to pluck. Mine to scatter. Mine to decorate. You will bloom in my garden and die there as well, if need arises." 'The Vampire's Flower - The Tragically Imperfect yet Perfectly Sweet Love Story Of A Human Assassin and A Vampire King' As a child, Eleanor was always against killing. But, something changed her narrative completely one day. The Murder Of Her Mother. The wrong done that night to her made an unfathomable killer come to birth. The killer who turned the Vampire Kingdom Of Eleneas upside down. Knife. Her way of murdering people shook others to their core as the people as well as the nobles grew terrified of this person. And, their fear led them to the gates of their Tryant Ruler. Daniel. Seeing the reaction of his subjects piqued his curiosity. As he went to search for this killer. Deep in the woods. There she was running after children with an innocent laugh on her lip. Her blonde hair like sunlight fluttering in the air with a smile burning brighter than the sun.  And, in that moment, he knew he found his queen. But, she loathed him. For every wrong and right reason. So when she was forced to marry him. Instead of wearing a white gown like an angel. She walked down the aisle covered in RED!

Lili, an orphan of the endless wars, had no one to thank aside from the old mistress who saved her from the slum alleys. Hired as a servant in the same orphanage where she grew up, Lili would learn that everything that she had believed in was nothing but a lie. In the midst of despair and hopelessness, Lili would meet a masked Duke, a mysterious man who spews fire. His first greetings, 'Will you be my wife', as stunning as his emerald-hued eyes. With the Duke on her side, the hidden clues about Lili's true identity slowly unveiled themselves, one secret at a time. And before the couple even knew it, the abyss had already dragged them into the true world of power and lies. A story of a possessive dragon duke and his mischievous flowery wife.

The housekeeper’s daughter, Selena Greene, deliberately chose to get married on the same day, at the same hotel as me. When our cars passed each other on the way to our weddings, she rolled down her window and asked to switch my bridal bouquet with hers. My bouquet, however, wasn’t just any bouquet. It was hand-carved from priceless jadeite by my grandfather himself—a one-of-a-kind heirloom and his blessing for my wedding day. “Trish,” she pleaded softly, “please. I’ve sacrificed so much for this wedding. I just want it to be perfect. I’ll give it back to you as soon as we get out of the cars.” My heart softened. Against my better judgment, I handed her my bouquet and took her cheap, plastic flowers instead. However, when we stepped out of our cars, she refused to return it. Worse still, during her ceremony, she tossed my jade bouquet onto the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. That bouquet had been my grandfather’s way of being present at my wedding. It was all I had left of him. Yet, in front of everyone, Selena put on an innocent act and accused me, “Who takes back a bouquet after a switch? A glass bouquet like this is all over online shopping platforms for ten bucks. I’ll just pay you back. Trish, you’ve made my life hard enough on normal days. Do you have to humiliate me on the most important day of my life, too?” Furious, I confronted her, but she ducked behind my fiancé and my brother, wiping at her eyes like the victim. My fiancé immediately went to comfort her, leaving me standing alone at the ceremony, humiliated and ridiculed by everyone. My brother, too, called me cruel and heartless. He cut me off financially and threw me out of the family home. Selena’s husband, having quickly risen to success with the help of powerful backers, unleashed his relentless revenge on the now penniless and alone me. In the dead of winter, hired thugs found me and brutalized me to death. And Selena? She became their princess, adored by all three of them. I sank into darkness, full of rage and regret. However, when I opened my eyes again, I was transported back to the day of the wedding.

The white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small,shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her,as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes,it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her. She took out an envelope containing different photos of different people in it,she stared at the image with a mixture of rage and disgust. “Revenge!!!“ She yelled as she fell to the ground crying” “I'll not sleep,I'll not rest until you all are dead!!”

My roommate was a classic bimbo. When I went to arrange a jogging meetup, she mistyped it as a hookup and sent it straight into the group chat, then burst into tears and claimed she didn't know how to retract the message. When I went to meet my jogging buddy, she told everyone that she ran into my "hookup buddy." At the end, she even covered her mouth and giggled sweetly, saying, "I always mix words up." After a few stunts like that, my reputation was utterly ruined, and the entire class shut me out. Later, she used her "clumsiness" as an excuse to spike my milk with sleeping pills, causing me to miss a major exam. She even dropped toxic bacteria into my water cup and killed me outright. And all of it was over something that stupid: the guy she had a crush on had casually helped me carry my luggage on the first day of school. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the very first day of freshman orientation. This time, I am going to let her experience what it felt like to be ruined—and killed—by a so-called idiot.

Every year, the village had to choose a girl of age to become the Blossom Bride. The girl who was chosen would be sent into the cave as the village god’s wife. She would spend the entire night with him. If she came out alive, she would be honored for the rest of her life as a village elder. Any child she bore was said to be blessed, destined for a life of effortless fortune. If she died, the village would simply wait for the next year, when another Blossom Bride would be chosen. The blessing of the Blossom Bride was believed to pass on to her parents and elders as well. However, no one wanted to be chosen. To escape the ritual, families quietly left the village, one after another. I was the only one who volunteered. I had a lust problem, and I had always wondered what it would feel like to be with a god.