*She loved all of the compliments she got on her roses. They were a perfect maroon, and stood out against the healthy green leaves. She left the thorns on the flowers while they grew, but did remove some of them when she gave them as gifts. She took great care to make sure there weren't any bugs on them, save the ones that were beneficial to the plant itself.*
*It was cold inside, but even colder outside. He sat in his recliner and held the blankets closer as the fireplace crackled. The last flicker of flame had disappeared a few minutes ago, but he was much more comfortable now than he would be if he got up to get another log. Moments later, he was asleep.*
Whatever it was that was left over from the recent activity moved from the top of the path between the houses. It wasn't focused, and didn't have any particular direction to go. The orbs in the area were no longer dragged along with it as they had been before, though exactly what this meant to... anyone or anything that might be able to detect it was up to interpretation.
The pale light it emitted could be seen, if barely, but what produced it could not. Either way, its mild drifting brought it down along the path and its motion paused. A river four hundred feet wide rushed above, though the trickle of dirty water didn't have enough force to even continue past the maize field on the shore behind it.
It continued wandering along the chapel lawn, illuminating the snail trails on the clean marble column that made up the building's supports. Inside the octagonal building, the wooden podium was well-lacquered and the book sat open and ready. The pews were lit with both the ambient glow of the candles in the wall sconces, and the sunlight pouring in from the faceted clear windows.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Ignoring the dirt and mold on what was left of the broken pews, the light continued to dance along through the space that used to be a wall. It moved up the hilly slope, finding the far edge of the building with the open sliding glass door. It moved across the wild grass to a mirror-backed dresser. A small metal box sat upon it.
*"I don't have the money now, but I promise one day I will. So, for now, this is what I can offer. I'm going to put in a ring for you. You know, when I can." She remembered he said that to her as he placed the star ruby in her hand. It wasn't big, but these were extremely expensive, and red was her favorite color.*
The light continued moving along, and came across a hand-carved wooden dining table with a set leaf, covered in a white tablecloth. A green glass vase sat in the middle.
*A woman wearing a white dress stained with dirt and grass stood up, holding her pruning shears in one hand. She looked at the bush with pride.*
*He looked at the flower vase on the dining table and suspected she knew that he was only pretending to not care about her flower garden. She probably realized that he liked the look and smell of flowers just as much as she did. After all, she was his wife.*
*It was cold inside, but even colder outside. He sat in his recliner and held the blankets closer as the fireplace crackled. The last flicker of flame had disappeared a few minutes ago, but he was much more comfortable now than he would be if he got up to get another log. Moments later, he was asleep.*
The center of the light danced and hovered around the glass vase. The red rose, seemingly freshly cut, sat motionless. The light's center moved on, swirling around the area, moving back to where it had originated.
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Inside...
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The rose sat delicately where it had been made; though there was no bush whence the flower had come. Indeed, there was no flower. What there was instead crackled under its own warm red light.