The Scent Between Seasons
As the world grows louder and more performative, Shrieking Rose retreats into silence underground, where real transformation begins. In this introspective entry, she speaks of seeds, noise, and the strange perfume rising from beneath the surface. Something is about to bloom. But not in the way you expect.
Shrieking Rose
5/30/20251 min read
Have you noticed it?
Right before summer truly begins, something shifts.
The world becomes unbearably loud, not just in sound, but in need.
Everyone shouting to be seen. Every post a plea.
Every moment curated for applause.
But in all that noise…
truth goes quiet.
So I went underground.
Not to disappear,
but to listen.
To remember the scent of my own soil.
A seed doesn’t bloom in a storm of static.
It waits.
It breathes beneath the chaos.
And it listens.
And now..
that seed is pressing upward.
Cracking through what was.
Dripping with scent, story, and something that can’t be filtered.
There’s a strange perfume rising.
Not one you can name.
Not one you can bottle.
But one you feel.
Some say it’s rebellion.
Others say it’s resurrection.
But I call it something else entirely.
It’s almost time