Romans & histoires Our Father Who Art In Heaven

The woman looking back at me was a stranger. My father walked me down the aisle. The church was packed. Hundreds of faces turned toward me. I could see Damon at the altar, smiling. I could see his mother in the front row. I could see Elias sitting beside her. He was watching me. I couldn't breathe. The music swelled. The guests rose. I walked forward, one step at a time, my father's arm steady beneath my hand. I reached the altar. My father released me. Damon took my hands.

My knees hit the floor with a sick, heavy thud. Suddenly, a single rose petal dropped in front of me. I picked it up and stood back up as thousands of them began to fall from the sky. Deep, red rose petals... without a single thorn. I guess I finally got my Rose without thorns, I smiled faintly. "Rose!" I spun around. A voice called me from the distance soft, steady, and achingly familiar. It was my Father's voice. He was really here. I made it into heaven. My heart hammered against my ribs, should I run to him or hide? I had destroyed his legacy. I had let his life’s work be stolen by the man who poisoned him.

Wesley's POV I clicked on the video attached to the news article. In it, the family of three stood together, laughing and smiling. Teyana looked every bit the loving mother. But I felt nothing. It didn't matter anymore. None of it mattered. Miles was gone, and with him, my entire reason for living. Whatever she did meant absolutely nothing to me now. I watched with my own eyes as Miles was pushed into the cremation chamber. The son I had raised for 18 years was now reduced to ashes.

My little sister, Anna Hale, was a famous surgeon. But I was the only one who knew she couldn't operate at all. During every major operation, I was the one holding the scalpel and spending 12 hours or more on my feet in the OR while she relaxed in her office over coffee. I worked until I collapsed, yet my father, Arthur Hale, the hospital director, always gave Anna the credit for the lives I saved. She was the respected doctor. I had nothing. I was just her stand-in whenever she needed one. One night, I'd barely left the hospital when my father called, his voice ice-cold. "Emma, get back to the OR right now! We just got a critically injured patient. You're helping Anna save him!" I couldn't

I looked up at the glassed chambers and the colors and the image of Christ. And it was then i muttered the first words, calling his name. “Our father—” I cupped my chin to close my eyes. “My father, who is in heaven. Hear me, O Lord” And a heavy breath made it’s way out of me. To be continued...

“You are quiet lenient on the angels here, don’t you want to have some fun?” “No thank you, I have my hands quiet full with my work and you riding my ass about going to hell for a visitation once a week.” I deadpanned and father just chuckled before motioning Leviathan to sit on his lap. Lev just rolled his eyes and came over but instead of sitting down on where my father had motioned, he just sat beside him. “It’s not for me, boy. You should start thinking about taking your place in hell.” Father said and lit a cigar before pointing his finger towards the angel, Ynoeil. “You mind if I take that one? This’ll make a good attendant.”

The thought of my father's creation this time around was something that kept me up. And now, heaven was no option to take, so all I needed to do was pollute the air that the humans breathe. I get to lead the hell, these demons that I could easily unleash upon them, as my punishment for the banishment by God, my father, who sits in his throne, not caring for his son he abandoned but cares for strangers he molded to have almost his image.

David’s POV Five Years Later. I am a ghost, trapped in a cycle of regret for one thousand eight hundred days. It’s hard to believe how fast time has slipped away. How is Samantha? How is my child? Where is she? Those three questions never leave my mind. "Daddy! Look! I drew a big ship!" The door to my study swung open, and a four-year-old boy came running in with a piece of paper in his hand. Leo.

Her voice carried a bitter undertone, revealing the emotional scars left by the experience. Justin, moved by Jessica's recounting of a painful past, gently placed his hand on hers, offering a comforting gesture that conveyed both empathy and support. The genuine sympathy in his touch reflected the understanding of the difficult ordeal she had endured. Listening intently, Justin absorbed her next words, "My father eventually died. Even though my mother had said my dad went to heaven and that it was a better place, I saw heaven as a cruel place. How could it have taken my father from me when I needed him most?" Jessica's poignant reflection on her perception of heaven revealed the enduring emo

“That—is also correct, Mr. Cillian.” Mr. Cillian smiled. “You clearly understand that successful men take advantage of the changes of their age. Now, with the world on the precipice of a grand new era, you have the opportunity to do so once again.” Father said nothing. His eyes were hollow with fear. I wondered if he was beginning to realize that his plan was not going to work. “I’m here,” Mr. Cillian continued, “to ask if you want to join us. If you will pledge devotion to the Church of Black Heaven, and accept the gift of immortality.”