Our Father Who Art In Heaven Novels & Stories

"Aria! Open your eyes, dear." The voice I heard was soft, distant and barely above a whisper. Aria? Who is that? "Oh my god!" God? Am I... in heaven? Could it be real? Is this where I've ended up? "Aria!" A sharp throb pulsed through my head and my chest felt like it was being crushed under an unbearable weight. "My dear, please look at your father..." Father? My father? Where... where is he?

Most had nothing. I stopped in front of a simple stone, its surface smooth, its letters still legible. Arthur Cole. Beloved Father. Rest in peace. I knelt in the grass, my fingers brushing against the cold stone. "Hello, Papa." The word felt strange on my tongue. I had never called anyone that. Edward Vance had been a distant figure, a man who had raised me out of obligation, not love. But Arthur had given his life for me. He had written me a letter. He had called me his daughter.

the person who could show me heaven invited me with his open arms. "Come here or you will regret it for your life" the person who is showing me the hell, warned me. I looked between both of them getting confused whom should I choose? If I chose heaven then my family's life would be at stake and if I chose hell then I would become a walking dead body. I am stuck 'Between Hell and Heaven'

You're the Father who put me down You do not see my shape and appearance You love me with all your heart It's never been like this world. You're the Father who taught me Through the stormy blue sky You make me fly like an eagle Overcoming all trials. You are my good Father Understand the language of teardrop You don't let me walk alone As you are my good Father. ~ You are my good father === !!! === Diandra POV

I called after her, my voice filled with a mix of worry and excitement. Heaven's small frame collided with my father's legs, and he staggered slightly, taken aback by her sudden embrace. He looked down at her with surprise and uncertainty, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected display of affection. "Grandpa!" Heaven exclaimed, her voice filled with pure delight. "It's me, Heaven! You’re grandpa right? You have white beards” Heaven said, I could hear Angel chuckle next to me. Her words were funny. My father's eyes widened, his gaze locked on Heaven as if trying to comprehend the situation. Slowly, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he crouched down to her level.

“Drink it. All of it.” The whiskey doesn’t taste right. It’s thick and slippery. I’m sure it’s just a trick of my senses. “Have more.” “What is this?” I motion to the lightning painting our islands in shades of the most electric blue. “A reminder of what he’s capable of.” Father sinks back into the armchair with effort, wincing like his skull is on the verge of splitting in two. “What he can do from hundreds of miles away.” “He’s terrified, isn’t he?”

To her, I was still strong and capable, the man who built a billionaire-dollar corporation from the ground up, a person who took care of things and stuck to his word. I didn’t want her to see me falling apart, to know I wasn’t as strong as I acted. So, though it hurt like hell to say no to temptation, I put the phone back down. Going to Raven’s bedside, I smoothed some hair away from her forehead. Her eyelids were soft with no sign of movement beneath them. “Raven,” I whispered. “It’s me. It’s Dad. Can you hear me, honey?” My throat tightened before I could say any more, and I bit down on my lip. That strangled cry that wanted to come out wasn’t going to. Not on my watch.

Finally, he sighs, and his eyes fill with sad compassion. "I love your mother. I miss her every day. But she is dead. She is our Goddess now, and while we have made sure to spread the word of her new title, that does not change the fact she is separate from us. We are living, Tav. We are mortals. She is not. We must live our lives, and you aren't. You are obsessed with your mom when your focus should be on the living people around you," Father says, and my eyes narrow.

“The best things come to the best of us, don’t you agree? You have two when many are gifted with one. Doesn’t it make you wonder?” It did make me wonder and I hated myself for pondering on his words. Why do demons speak such compelling words? If only I had such talent. “Good morning to you, Phoebe.” Father approached us with long, confident strides. His smile wavered when he saw the demon but he said, “Good morning to you too.” “Good morning, Chief. You look as bright as a newborn.” “Did you have a good night, Father?” I asked. “Yes. Have you had breakfast?”

In the hushed stillness of the cemetery, Samantha whispered softly to the gravestones before her, her voice barely above a murmur. "Hey, mom, dad. It’s been a while," she began, her breath hitching as she leaned down to place a bouquet of tulips, a feeble offering to the memory of her estranged parents.