Pastor Daughter Novels & Stories

Aurora collapsed to the floor, and in an instant, bright red blood spread beneath her. Even in that moment, she reached out and said “Mom” with the last ounce of her strength. She was looking straight at me and calling out to me! I had raised her for twelve years. How could there not be love between us? She was innocent. This was all Sam and Jennifer’s fault! I buried my face in my hands and wept in silence. There was no home invasion, no gas leak, and no explosion. I was the one who had killed my daughter.

"They didn't win. They just committed a crime in the name of God. And they think they’ve silenced her." We drove home in a silence that felt like a funeral procession. When we pulled into our driveway, I looked at the Pastor’s house. The lights were on. The "perfect" family was back inside. The curtains were drawn. From the outside, it looked like the sanctuary it claimed to be. But I knew what was inside. I knew the girl who was lying in that room, her body violated and her spirit broken by the very people who were supposed to be her shepherds.

Miss Stacy’s attention returned to me cautiously. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing,” I clarified, shaking my head. “I’ve just spent so much of my life fearing werewolves. Now that my daughter is one of them, I’m finding myself relying on the kindness of werewolves time and again to care for her.” Miss Stacy offered an empathetic smile. “We’re all here at this school because we want to be part of shaping a better future.” I inhaled deeply, reeling a bit at how much my life was changing faster than I could keep up. “Thank you,” I said, the gratitude coming from deep within me.

I put my six-year-old daughter in my mother-in-law’s hands as I was busy with an overseas project. Every month, I would send her 20,000 dollars in allowance, not including holiday cash gifts. My mother-in-law would always talk about how well my daughter ate and slept during every video call. In the video, a feast was always laid before my daughter. So when her teacher claimed that she had fainted out of hunger during class, my first thought was that she must have called the wrong number. I rushed back home and headed straight to the hospital. The doctor said that my daughter was suffering from long-term malnutrition and her weight was far below the average. She also had severe post-trau

"You should check the news yourself, bitch!" With that she hunged up the phone leaving a confused Olivia. Olivia shrugged as she turned her data on to know what her sister was accusing her off, Her eyes popped widely at the headline that welcomed her... "Pastor Scott Daughter At It Again!!!! " It reads.

I quickly gathered up my things as I saw the pastor moving out. “Sir!” I called out. He turned towards me. “Sir! Good day, sir,” I greeted. He smiled at me and all my fears seemed to evaporate. “My daughter, how are you and what may I do for you?” He motioned me to seat at the nearest chair as he sat opposite me. I noticed a guard was waiting on him. “I am sorry to intrude or more correctly delay you from your busy schedule.” I started. He smiled at me. “Don’t say so sister. There is no schedule that's as important as listening tGod's people.” He spoke.

Ilang metro rin ang layo ng mismong hotel sa kanilang cottage kaya habol niya ang kaniyang hininga nang makarating sila. “I lost my daughter, miss.” Agap niyang saad sa babaeng receptionist. “Where is your surveillance system team?” Humarap ang babae sa kaniya, medyo nagulat. “This way ma'am.” Iginiya siya nito sa silid kung saan naroon ang monitor ng mga CCTV ng resort. “Anong problema, Dina?” “She lost her daughter, Kuya Maco.” “Ilang taon po ma'am?” Baling ng lalaki sa kaniya.

“I’m Augustine but you can call me August.” “Clementine but you can call me Clem or stupid because that’s how I feel right now,” I said and he gave me a puzzled look. “Since you’re only here because my daughter is trying to find me a husband.” Something I didn’t even want. August shook his head. “I think it’s adorable, it’s not like Aaliyah is a random kid. She’s talked about you a lot before. Actually,” he paused to run his hand through his hair sheepishly. “I’m pretty sure she’s trying to play matchmaker because of a comment I made last week.”

We are still in the freakin’ parking lot! I don't want to become famous for the wrong reasons. I can already see the school paper’s headline tomorrow reading: PREACHER’S DAUGHTER, FAITH ST. CLAIR CAUGHT PANTS DOWN WITH A MAN IN THE PARKING LOT. How can anyone ever recover from such a scandal? I try to stand up from his lap. He grabs my left breast from behind and squeezes it hard. “Uh!” I moan against my will, falling back. He bites my neck, suckling on my skin. “You are wet already, aren't you?”

"Just picture it, in an age when women are waking up to their power. A mother financially tormenting her only daughter. If you nail this story, think of the payoff!" Her hesitation crumbled to dust. A true journalist would never pass up a story with real value. Three days later, the announcement hit the video platform. Celebrated educational influencer Jessica Lowell was set to unveil a groundbreaking live documentary series titled, 'Cruel Mom Refuses $80 Allowance, Poor Daughter in Trouble.' My daughter, Evelyn Smith, and I had both signed on for the reality show, agreeing to let cameras follow us around the clock for a full week. No filters, no edits–just raw, unvarnished life.