Wings for Evie

Wings for Evie

A Story by mildly biased

A man's fight to save his daughter, and an angel of whom the world was not worthy.


It was almost 2 a.m. In the faint light of the moon, the outline of a man could just be seen standing motionless in the dark. He stood looking at the run-down little house sprawled underneath the branches of an equally decrepit oak tree. After days of bribing the right people and digging through paperwork forgotten years ago, he had finally found her cast off to some second-rate foster parents, the Grinkis, like so much unwanted refuse. Would he even know her when he saw her, he wondered? Would she be terrified of him? Scream? He shuddered at the thought of his own daughter being terrified of him. But he had to have her back; she didn’t belong to these people and he wanted his daughter. He shook his head, dispelling the fears, and made his way around the back of the small house. He crept to the window. No dogs, excellent. 

The lock on the door was a joke. A quick twist with the help of two bricks laying in the grass by the porch and he was in. He winced at the muffled crack as the lock ripped its anchors from the doorframe, and pushed the door open. He stood perfectly still in the pitch black, listening for any sign that someone might have heard him. Nothing. Standing in the dark he could recall a time when the thought of breaking into another’s home would have seemed despicable. But that man had died. He had been sent to prison an innocent, terrified man; he had been released broken and bitter. Evie was all he had left. And she was all that mattered. He would do whatever it took to make sure she was safe. 

He followed the hallway to his left, hugging the wall to avoid loose floorboards. He pushed open the first door he came to just enough to see inside. Bathroom. He moved on. The next had a small desk and piles of colorful clothes littered about the floor, dimly lit by the light of the moon through a single window. He eased the door open further. A small bed lay in the corner of the room, a tiny golden head resting on the pillow and a small stuffed angel tucked underneath one arm. He crept to the side of the bed, struggling to keep his breathing quiet. It was her. She looked just like her mother. He pulled a wooden chair next to the bed. His angel. She would be seven by now. He couldn’t breathe, just sat watching the rise and fall of her small shoulders as she slept. If she liked it here, he resolved to disappear. He would stay out of her life. But he hoped he wouldn’t have to. 

She stirred, mumbling something incoherent. She sat up, yawning, and rubbed her eyes. 

Please don’t scream, he thought.

She saw him and let out a muffled squeak, clutching her stuffed angel tighter against her chest. His throat tightened. There were bruises on her arms. 

“Shush, Evie. It’s okay.” He forced the words out and held his hands up, palms open. 

Her eyes had been so big, so questioning. 

“How have you been?” It was hard to think. 

"Good,” she murmured from behind her stuffed angel. She didn’t say anything else, just kept staring at him with those frightened eyes. 

He hesitated, looking for words. “Do you like your home here?” 

She shook her head. Her eyes strayed to her arms for a moment before she remembered the strange man in front of her. 

“They’re mean to me.”

They’d pay for that. They sat in silence as the moments dragged on.

“Are you gonna kill me now, mister?” 


A gentle nudging at his arm woke him. He opened his eyes, squinting at the morning sun shining through the window of the train. It had been the same dream again. Even after four months of running he relived that night every time he closed his eyes. 

“Look daddy, look at all the butterflies!” A great cloud of them had just risen from the field of green and yellow as they roared past, the roar of the train along its tracks startling the morning reverie. John roused himself from sleep to look out the window where Evie’s tiny hand pointed. 

He grunted in reply. She always did have her head in the clouds. Evie turned back and pressed her forehead against the window, hands leaving tiny prints on the glass. Such small hands, he thought. So fragile. The occasional tree whipped past the window, thin roads and the occasional car giving way to highways and busses. Rows of people blurred by, finally taking shape as the train slowed to a stop in the station. 

He stood, turning back to her. “Come on Evie, time to go,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, hopping down from her seat and shrugging her arms into her jacket. 

He held her shoulder, guiding her through the mass of people jammed into the narrow aisle. The platform was less crowded, and they stood off to the side, letting the mass of people rush by on their way to work or school.

They left the station, heading towards the downtown district. Evie wrinkled her nose at the smells of the city. Exhaust and the faint trace of sewage mingled with the aromas of Thai food, burgers, and bakeries wafting from the storefronts lining the streets. John smiled. Everything was so new to her. She had spent most of her life in the country with her mother and step-father in his countryside mansion after John’s conviction. Seven years. Evie hadn’t even been born then. They had just found out it would be a girl. But Claire was dead now �" she had jumped from the roof of her husband’s three story mansion on her 35th birthday, two years ago today. He shut out her memory. Still too much pain there. 

“Daddy, are there always this many people in the city?” 

“Yes, all the time.” 

“But the Parsons said that people are always killing each other in the city. How can there always be more people?” 

The Parsons. The two spoiled brats of William Parson, her step-father. The man hadn’t even had the decency to raise his step-daughter after Claire had died, just passed her off to an apathetic government. But he had paid his debt in full, just like her foster “parents” had. He felt a tug on his pant leg. 

“Daddy I have to pee.” 

“Okay, just a bit farther.” 


He pushed open the door of a bakery, a sign above the door announcing it “Anne’s Corner.” The tinkering of a small metal bell announced their entrance, muffled by the quiet cacophony inside the bakery. It was busy today. Two lines of tightly bundled winter coats and scarves stood waiting to pay for their goods  and more were trickling in for an early breakfast, some with families in tow, others glancing impatiently at their watches or jabbering away at cell phones. Loaves of bread and glazed pastries smiled at them through the glass of the display counters, and Evie’s eyes smiled back. Her tummy growled. He would have to see about getting food somehow.

He guided her towards the restrooms. Does a seven year old still need help to go? he wondered. He reached for the doorknob, but she pushed past him, tugging the door open. He started to follow her in, but she would have none of it. 

“Daddy!” she protested. “I’m not three anymore!” 

He retreated to sit watchfully at one of the small tables in the corner. He looked at all the food around him and the eager children grasping excitedly at the treats in their parents’ hands. He felt a pang of guilt. He had used their last reserves of cash on the train fare. The settlement money hadn’t nearly been enough to begin with, and legal fees and the government’s exploitation of bureaucratic loopholes had robbed him of what little there was. It turns out that in wrongful imprisonment cases the settlement money only provides for the amount of time initially sentenced. 

The restroom door opened, and Evie pushed her way out, smiling. She hopped over, dodging customers. 

“Stand right over there by the door for a moment Evie, I’ll be right there.” 


Her attention returned to the treats surrounding them on all sides. She drifted off, head swiveling every which way in an attempt not to let a single gleaming treat out of her sight. She perched on top of an empty stool in the corner of the shop, the sunlight through the window casting a golden halo over her head. John stood to watch her until she had settled in the spot he had pointed to, then turned and found his way to the back of the line. It was growing more crowded by the minute. This was good. The more crowded the shop was, the more distracted the employees became. To his left an impatient woman in her 30’s pestered the equally irate shop owner about the state of her cream pastry. It was getting heated. 

“Can I help you sir?” His mind had been wandering. He turned to the young woman at the cash register, apologizing. 

“Yes, I’ll have two plain loaves, a cherry croissant, and an Irish bagel.” He already knew they were all out of Irish bagels. 

“I’m sorry sir, we’re still baking more Irish bagels,” she said as she placed the two loaves and croissant on the counter. “Can you wait a minute while I check on them?” 

He smiled. “Sure.” 

She turned and disappeared behind the swinging double doors marked ‘Employees Only.’ A quick glance to either side confirmed that no one was paying him the least bit of attention. He tucked the two loaves and croissant under his arm and walked towards the door. 

He motioned to Evie as he swung the door open. “Time to go.” She hopped down from her stool and followed him out the door. 

It was sunny outside, and the thermometer at the door of the bakery read 51 degrees. Evie was chattering away about something, he thought he heard the word “hippopotamus” mixed in there somewhere. They were passing through a bustling shopping area, the doors of shops on either side ringing to announce new customers. The door of Maria Sophia’s Coffee Co. swung open and closed as people bustled in and out, drifting the scent of fresh coffee towards the street to lure in the unwary passerby. A toy shop on the left caught Evie’s attention. She let go of his finger and trotted over to peer into the window. A pair of white fairy wings stood perched on its display stand. She stood there with hands cupped around her face, adoring them until John finally pulled her away. 

“Do you want to eat in the park, Evie?” 

Her face lit up. “Yeah!” 

“Okay, lets go find one.” They quickened their pace, Evie skipping along beside him as he kept an eye open for a suitable park to inhabit. They passed a church, it’s decorated steeple rising majestically into the air. Evie stopped, tugging at his pant leg. 

“Can we eat in there?” she asked, pointing towards the church courtyard visible through the fence. 

“I don’t know, that’s not exactly…”  He stopped, not really sure what to say.

She looked wistfully towards the church. After a few moments she turned and took hold of his finger, pulling him along towards the church. She pulled him up the steps and stood looking timidly up at the massive wooden doors. 

To the right was a gate leading into the courtyard. He pushed it open and Evie squeezed past him. 

Statues of cherubim were spaced throughout the courtyard, and in the middle was a single stone fountain of Saint Jude standing with hands turned out, welcoming. 

Evie was bounding in excitement. “Isn’t it pretty?” She skipped around, stopping here and there to splash her hand in the fountain’s sparkling water or explore the thick bushes that lined the stone wall that encompassed the courtyard. She finally plopped down in the grass in the shadow of a cherubim, smiling. 

He sat down next to her, handing her half of a loaf of bread and the cherry croissant. They ate in silence, the noises of the bustling city around them seeming to regret its intrusion into the tranquility of that sacred ground. The tapping of Evie’s shoes together set a cheerful cadence to their meal. The half-loaf of bread was enormous in her hands as she lifted it, each tiny bite little more than a nibble. Soon her enthusiastic chewing grew slower and finally she handed him the remains of the bread and sat looking at her shoes.

“Daddy you shouldn’t have stolen the food from that lady.” 

He shifted his weight. “We need food, Evie.” 

She frowned. “Do you think Jesus will be angry?” 

He stared past the walls of the courtyard. “I don’t think Jesus cares one way or the other.” 

She sat in silence. 

At length, “Daddy, do you believe in God?” 

He took another bite of bread. “God is for people who can afford to believe in fairy tales, Evie. For the rest of us, we just have to make do without.” 

She stood, studiously wiping her hands on a napkin he produced for her. “You can’t be angry forever, daddy.”  She handed him the napkin, and a smile lit her face. 

“Pretend I’m a fairy, and you’re the prince.” She brushed the hair away from her face, adopting the stance of a graceful fairy. “I can make any wish come true, but only if you stand really still. If you don’t, I’ll die. You want your princess to come back to you more than anything in the whole world, but she’s already dead. So you ask me to bring her back. I say okay, but only if you promise not to move. I make her appear, and both of you are happy again. You start running up the hill to her, and I shout ‘Stop running, I’ll die!’ You turn back to say you’re sorry, but it’s too late, and you’re all alone on the hill again.” She frowned, concerned at the tragic fate of her prince, but seemed to decide it was a good story anyway. 

“That was a nice story, Evie.” He didn’t smile. He knew he had to bring it up, but the words stuck in his throat.“They know I took you, Evie. They want to take you back.” 

“Because of what you did to the Parsons and the Grinkis?” 

He nodded.

She plopped back down next to him. “But I want to stay with you!” 

“I want to stay with you too,” he whispered. 


It was almost noon when they left the church courtyard, heading towards a mountain at the outskirts of town that had piqued Evie’s interest. They passed by the toy shop again, and Evie stopped in front of the window, staring at the wings. He would get them for her, he decided. He couldn’t give her any sort of luxury that a little girl should rightfully have, and this would make it just a little bit easier for him to bear the weight of his own inadequacy. He didn’t deserve to have her, but she deserved to be a child. 

Evie hadn’t even noticed he had taken them, she had been so preoccupied with a tiny ballerina figurine. They were almost to the exit when a uniformed security guard stepped in front of them. 

“Sir, did you find everything you need today?” John could tell by his expression that he didn’t care whether or not they had found what they needed. He studied Evie, recognition flickering but failing to take hold. 

“We’re fine, just browsing,” he said, trying to relax his shoulders. It was the first sign that showed when someone was about to bolt, when the shoulders were tense. 

“Sir, this is just a precaution, but could you step into the back room for a moment? I have a few questions and then you can be on your way.” 

He forced himself to relax his jaws. He could still talk his way out of this. 

“Of course.” He turned to Evie. “Stay out here, okay sweetie? You can go look at the toys again, I’ll be right back.” 

“Okay.” She eyed the guard suspiciously, but turned and walked towards the toy section. He turned back to the guard and followed him towards the back of the store. 

He led him through a metal door at the end of a small hallway and shut it behind them. 

“Have a seat, Mr…”

“Kenner,” he lied. He took a seat at the table as the guard pulled open a file cabinet in the corner of the room, digging through it and pulling out a manilla file. 

“Do you happen to have any identification, Mr. Kenner?” 

“No,” he chuckled grimly, “I’m afraid I’ve left my wallet in the car.”

“I see.” He rifled through the file in his hands, not looking up. “Do you live in town?” 

“No, I’ve been traveling with my niece.” 

“How long have you been traveling?” 

“‘Bout four months.” Mistake. He cursed inwardly. No one could miss that. 

The guard paused, and realization flicked across his face again. He dropped the file and his hand shot toward the baton at his hip. John’s hand shot out also, catching his wrist and dragging him onto the table. He drove his elbow into the man’s throat and again into his jaw. The baton dropped to the ground, the guard’s hand limp. He checked his pulse. Weak, but still there. 

He picked up the file, skimming through it. It was a police report on Evie’s kidnapping. He was the lead suspect. Exonerated and released four months ago from Ionia Maximum Correctional Facility. Sentenced for association with the Tocco-Licavoli-Zerilli crime syndicate, exonerated by DNA evidence. The list of his discrepancies while in the prison system was extensive. Twelve counts of vicious assault, seven counts of assault with deadly weapons, five counts of inciting riots, and the list went on. They never mentioned he was always the one attacked. 

Divorced during incarceration, custody of daughter given to wife. 

Claire. He ruthlessly suppressed the pain in his chest. She had sent him the divorce papers barely a month after his conviction. He finished scanning the document, conscious that precious seconds were ticking by. He looked up, directly into the lens of the security camera in the corner of the room. He ducked his head, dropped the file, and bolted through the door. 

Evie was waiting wide eyed at the end of the hallway. He slowed as he reached her and took her hand. The cashier was frantically dialing the telephone from behind the desk, casting frightened glances towards him. Evie didn’t say a word, just followed him back out into the cold wind of the city. 


They couldn’t try to get out of town in plain daylight, there was no way they would make it. He cursed to himself. They would have to wait until night. They walked quickly towards the mountain in the distance, passing through the industrial section of town. It was a tourist area, the last place anyone would look for them. Evie trotted along beside him. She hadn’t said a word since they had left the store. 

The cable car leading to the top of the mountain was sparsely populated. He kept scanning the area, but there was no sign that anyone knew where they were. He allowed himself to breathe a little easier. He presented her with the wings right when they got on so that she could be a proper fairy and fly to the top. She loved them. The cable car was her cloud as she flew across the sky towards her castle in heaven. She peered over the side, taking care to hold on tightly to the railing. John held her sides, letting her lean over to look directly down to the mountainside 50 feet below.

The view from the top of the mountain’s viewing platform was incredible. Evie was soaring with arms outstretched as the wind caught her hair, wings fluttering in the breeze. 

“Daddy, if I fell, do you think I would die?” 

He held on to her just a little bit tighter as she stood on the railing overlooking the city stretching far below. “I won’t let you.” 

She pinched her eyebrows together. “But if I fell, how could you save me?” 

He didn’t reply. 

She closed her eyes, keeping her arms out. He held her sides, looking down the steep drop of the mountain. 

“Daddy, why did mommy jump?”

It was a few moments before he could respond. 

“I guess she was just tired, Evie.” 

“Tired of me?”

“Of course not honey. Just…tired.” They said there were signs long before she had jumped. They said she had been growing distant, detached. They said near the end she wouldn’t even look at Evie. 

She let her wings flap in the breeze. “Did she love me, daddy?” 

He couldn’t answer. How did you tell a child that her own mother hated the sight of her because she had her father’s eyes? How did you tell a seven year old that when your world chews you up and spits you in the dust, it’s the ones you love that suffer? He couldn’t answer. So he kept silent.

It was a long time before Evie grew tired of the peak, and it was getting dark. “We should leave, Evie, they’ll shut down the cable cars soon. You don’t want to be stuck up here, do you?” 

“Okay, I guess not.” She paused, considering. “We don’t have any marshmallows, huh?” 

He grinned. “No, we don’t.” 

They made their way back to the cable cars, Evie skipping along by his side or climbing the occasional bench to jump on his back. She clambered up onto his shoulders. 

The sunset was a spectacular show for the two as they sat in the humming cable car, the last golden rays dancing in the billowing clouds as they made their way back below the horizon. 

As the car came to a rest at the bottom, John nudged Evie to wake her. She shifted on the seat where she lay, burying her face into her jacket. He hesitated, then lifted and placed her on his back where she clung. She yawned. “Where are we going?” 

“We have to leave, sweetie. We’re not safe here anymore.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, resting her head against his back. “We can’t sleep in real beds tonight?” 

His heart sank. She didn’t deserve this. “Not tonight.”

She slid off his back, rubbing her eyes. She wormed her hand into his and took hold of his finger. He looked down at her tiny hand clenched in his. He closed his fingers carefully around hers and they walked. 

Soon they passed the church where they had eaten breakfast. Evie paused, looking up at the tall wooden doors, then hastily removed her wings, fidgeting with them. 

“Do you want to go in again, Evie?” 

She shook her head quickly and squeezed his hand tighter, but remained silent, looking timidly toward the church. He could just make out the silhouette of Saint Jude over the wall. 

“Daddy, you need to give the wings back,” she said. 

“Do you not like them anymore?” he asked. 

She shook her head. 

“They don’t belong to me yet.” 


They crossed the railroad tracks marking the fringes of the industrial section of the city, generators humming faintly and work lights casting spindly light on the dark factories towering in the distance. 

Like fire, he thought. The image of a burning mansion leapt unbidden to his mind, and he let himself enjoy the memory. The house of Evie’s step father. He remembered his face all too well, the horror and despair as he and his children stood helplessly watching their home burn to the ground. He had savored that night. He had promised himself that that scum would pay, and he did. And the Parsons… They had paid too. For harming his daughter they had paid a heavy price indeed. 

They walked in silence, the heavy fall of his footsteps on the gravel accented by the soft pattering of Evie’s. She refused to put the wings back on, but kept them hugged gently at her chest, as if she thought they might break. More lines of train tracks ran parallel to the others, several with long lines of cars stretched out along them, frozen for the night. 

Suddenly John stopped, listening. Evie stopped too. 

“What is it daddy?” 

“Be still, sweetie.” He turned his head to see if he could catch it again. There it was, a muffled voice, too soft to tell which direction it was coming from. He took Evie’s hand and they continued, rounding the corner of a stationary train car. Twenty meters away, three hooded silhouettes stood framed against the dark gravel. Two backed away and one stayed, pushing a fourth figure against one of the railroad cars. 

“Don’t toy with me Johnson, you’re always trying to deal behind my back,” he hissed. “And I’m sick of it.” 

“No man, I didn’t do it. I sold all the stuff you gave me, I didn’t skim, I swear.” 

“Shut up, you’re done.” He stepped back and leveled a gun at the other’s chest. 

“Devon no�"!” 

An orange flash lit the night, the gunshot punctuating the silence.

Evie let out a muffled squeak and pushed her head against his chest. He stroked her hair, quieting her. One of the three thugs paused and turned, searching the darkness where they crouched. They stood stock still. 

“Hey, did you hear that?” he asked.

The other two stopped. “What?”

Evie whimpered, and he pressed her closer to himself. 

“Hush,” he breathed. 

“Yeah, sounded like… hell, I don’t know.”

Two began making their way towards them. John scooped up Evie and inched backwards, trying to stay in the shadows. 

“Hey, over there! Check this out!” 

Too late. He ran for the gate. He heard shouts and the pounding of footsteps behind him. He wasn’t going to make it. He rounded one of the railroad cars just as a shadow jumped out in front of him. The two others closed in behind him, slowing to encircle them. 

The one with the gun spoke up, grinning. “Why you runnin’ man?” Big guy, tough looking. Aim for the eye. 

John set Evie down, taking a quick note of each of the three. The second was picking up a crowbar from the gravel. No problem there. The third one his left was shorter, a folding knife half hidden in his right hand. Avoid him.

Evie clung to his leg, panicked eyes looking up at the three thugs. He backed up so they were up against the railroad car and pushed her gently behind him, untangling her arms from his leg. 

“We’re just passing through,” he said. “We don’t want any cops either, we’ll be on our way, no harm done.” 

The big guy came closer. “Can’t do that, man,” he chuckled. He was almost at arm’s length now, and arrogant enough to think John didn’t stand a chance. 

“Stay behind me, sweetie,” John said quietly. 

The one with the gun stepped in front of him. 

“Tough luck, that’s all.” He raised the pistol. 

John didn’t wait for the rest. He caught the man’s wrist, wrenching him towards him and jamming his thumb into his eye as hard as he could. Hot blood splattered his hand. The man screamed, reeling backwards. John wrenched the pistol from his grip, driving his knee up viscously into his groin. Heavy as he was, the bruiser was lifted several inches before collapsing in the gravel, curled in on himself. He grabbed the arm of the second as he aimed a stab at his gut and twisted to shove him into the third, who aimed a wild swing at his head. He caught the blade of the knife, twisting it from the thug’s hand as he crashed into his friend and kicked him in the face as he scrambled from the ground. He relished the feel of bones crunching as his foot connected. The third pushed himself up and attacked with the crowbar, narrowly missing John’s head. He slashed at the man’s throat and blood sprayed in an arc from the knife. He could feel his own blood pounding in his ears, driven as much by fury as by adrenaline. 

He stalked over to where the last one had fallen and knelt. The man had a long slash running from his armpit up across his throat. He clutched weakly at the wound with his left hand; his right lay uselessly at his side. With each heartbeat blood pumped from his neck onto the rocks. John knelt, resting his elbows on his knees, toying with the pistol as the seconds throbbed away. He smiled. 

“You’re gonna die soon,” he said simply. Terrified eyes stared back at him, casting around for escape. 

A flashlight shone on the scene, flicking around between the bodies. John turned and stood. Security guard. No mall security either, this one would be armed. A shot rang out, ricocheting off the metal car behind him.

He’s shooting already?

He ran to the car where he had left Evie, the guard’s shouts following him. She was gone. He froze, panicked. A whimper came from underneath the car. He crouched down, and there she was, cowering next to one of the steel wheels. He held his hand out. “Come on, sweetie, let’s go. Hurry.” 

She slowly climbed out from under the car. “Daddy, you’re bleeding,” she said. 

He looked down at his right arm. The one with the knife had managed to give him an intimidating gash down his forearm. “It’s okay honey, daddy’ll be fine.” He hoisted her up into his arms and ran towards the gate. She pressed her face into his neck, looking back over his shoulder. 

“They’re broken…” 

“Daddy had to kill them, sweetie.” 

Her face showed no fear, no panic. Only sadness. A gust of wind caught them, and with a quiet snap, her wings fluttered away. He turned to look, but they had been swallowed by the darkness. He ran harder, the gasps of the dying man fading behind them. 


The sirens were close. Way too close. He had been running with all the strength he had to give, Evie tucked safely in his arms, and still he couldn’t shake the frantic wail of the sirens. Red and blue lights exploded around the corner behind him as he sprinted down an alley between two of the factory buildings. He was surrounded by buildings on three sides, and the sirens behind him. Cornered. Nothing for it now. He made for a door on the wall of the nearest building. With the handle of the gun he hacked at the light lock on the door and ducked inside, turning to squeeze off three rounds at the dark uniforms flooding towards him. Darkness enveloped him, broken by the flash of red and blue through the windows high above. Machinery and metal pipes surrounded him and left barely enough room to walk in between them. He didn’t stop running. 

He cradled Evie against his chest and she curled up tighter against him. He wouldn’t let them take her. The door behind him burst open again, and shouts echoed through the warehouse. A gunshot rang out, and he dropped into a crouched run. More shots echoed around him, the clamor of metal deafening. He spotted an office door ahead to his right and made for it, crashing through with his shoulder. A red exit sign glared in the darkness to his left. He dodged office desks and burst through it into a dim narrow hallway stretching a few dozen meters. He sprinted ahead. As he rounded the corner at the end he heard the door behind him crash open. He fired his last two shots without turning around. More shouting. More gunshots. He kept running. 

The next door led out into darkness of night, and the edge of town. He pushed himself faster, losing himself in the maze of buildings. 

He finally stopped, panting. The street was dark despite the street lights that cast cold circles of light onto the pavement. Evie was still silent.

“Evie, we made it,” he whispered. No response. He waited, motionless save for the heaving of his chest. Panic shot through him. He ran to one of the street lights illuminating the blood that covered his arms. 

“No…” Blood poured from a bullet hole in her chest, her lifeless eyes closed and pressed against his arm. “No, no, no, no.” He sunk to his knees, clutching her small body tightly to his chest. Tears rolled down his cheeks, glinting in the light as they fell to her head. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” he whispered softly. “We’ll be okay sweetie, daddy will save you. Daddy will save you.” 


He lost himself. He couldn’t feel the cold of the night, the bite of the wind. His feet led him and he followed. He didn’t know how he got there, but he found himself at the doors of the church. He climbed the stairs, drawn by a promise of peace that he couldn’t understand. The doors opened before him, and he paused at the threshold. Something called him forward, and without reserve, he answered. He wiped the tears from his face and slowly made his way to the front of the church. He ascended the few steps to the altar, and with each step he took a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. A man crowned in thorns gazed down at them from among the rafters, palms outstretched in welcome. At his feet lay the marble altar, and etched into the stone were the words “Of Whom The World Was Not Worthy.” 

John’s hands trembled, but not from the bite of the cold. He held his daughter in his arms and knew her time had come. He carefully laid her on the altar, her hands clasped over her chest. His angel. He held her hands and kissed them. 

“You’re free now,” he whispered. “It’s time for you to get your wings.” 

© 2010 mildly biased

Author's Note

mildly biased
The focus of the work is on thematic elements, symbolic meaning, and characterization.

In very broad terms:
John's inherent nature that drives him from spiritual darkness into light and longing for a life and family and innocence that was robbed from him.
Evie's dualistic role as both the innocence that he will stop at nothing to protect, and the guiding light that beckons him ever towards his own salvation.

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Very well written.. I enjoyed reading it :)

Posted 12 Years Ago

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2 Reviews
Added on November 15, 2010
Last Updated on December 11, 2010
Tags: Evie, wings, angel, father, daughter, running, falsely convicted, world, worthy, John


mildly biased
mildly biased


My passion is the art of crafting a story. I revel in the creation of characters with joys, sorrows, histories, and essence all their own, weaving plots that question and inspire, and exploring the de.. more..

Satire Satire

A Poem by mildly biased