Praying For Dad By Nicola Ashbrook


Dear God,

Mum said I have to speak to you at bedtime or else you’ll strike me down so, hi. Mrs Jenson, who does RE at school, says you can’t just ask you for stuff ‘cos that’s rude or summat so I’m gonna say all the things I’m grateful for first: chocolate crunch for pudding at school, Baz – that’s my dog and err, I suppose ‘cos I got to stay up for five extra minutes. But, God, what I really want to know is: can you make my dad come back? I’ll be really good. I promise. I won’t even flick my sister when she’s not looking. Thank you.


Dear God,

Thanks for Baz. And letting me get the Pokemon toy out of the Frosties packet – that was awesome.

Where’s Dad though? I haven’t flicked our Char at all, not even once – just like I promised – but Dad still isn’t here. I asked Mum and she said he’s gone away for a bit and to stop asking or she’ll clip me round the ear and she had her scary face on – which she always has at the moment – so I know she really meant it. She did clip me round the ear once when I accidentally kicked my football into the shed window – and it really effin’ hurt. Actually, God, I don’t really know what ‘effin’ is but Mum says it’s better than actual swearing and I should definitely not take your name in vain, so I won’t.

But God, I’m begging you – please send Dad home.


Dear God,

Are you actually listening? I don’t think this praying thing is working.


Dear God,

I’m sorry I didn’t speak to you yesterday but I was a bit mad with you. I said thank you like Mrs Jenson said and I didn’t flick our Char and I did everything Mum asked, but you still didn’t send Dad back. I don’t think you’re listening to me. Do you just pick some people to listen to and ignore the rest? Why won’t you listen to me? Is it because I’m nine? Is it because of the time I legged up Joshua Horobin at school? ‘Cos I’ve said sorry for that like twenty-squillion times.

I don’t even know if you’re real or made up by grown-ups like Santa.

I waited all day for a lightning bolt to zoom out of the sky to strike me down yesterday – I was ready the whole time to dodge it – but it didn’t come. Is that ‘cos you aren’t real?


  1. If you are real, but there’s just something up with your phone line or summat, please send Dad back.

Dear God,

I talked to my friend Malik at football and he doesn’t pray to you, he prays to another guy, so I’m gonna try him ‘cos you don’t seem to be working.


Dear Allah,

Are you able to help with finding my Dad? I came home from school one day and he wasn’t here and my Mum just says he’s where he deserves to be and my Nan spits every time I say his name, which is really weird ‘cos I thought spitting wasn’t good manners. Anyway, I don’t know where he is and I really, really miss him, especially playing on the Xbox together.

I’ve never really heard of you before but are you qualified to find people? Malik says you are.

Anyway, thanks.


Dear Mars,

I found you on Google. I’ve been trying other Gods but none of them seem to work. Apparently you’re into thunder so I’m thinking you might be more powerful than the others. I hope so because I really need to find my Dad before my heart breaks into any more pieces. I’m going to sleep now but I’ve got my toes and fingers crossed and I’ll try hard to keep them like that all night.

Please? I’ll do anything you ask.


Dear Baz,

I love you boy. I know it’s cold but we can share my coat. I’ll keep you warm, I promise. They aren’t listening, Baz, none of them, so it’s just us now. We’ll find him, won’t we boy? We’ll find Dad ourselves. He must be out here somewhere – people don’t just disappear, do they?

When it gets light, we’ll find him, won’t we boy? We’ll keep searching.

Goodnight Baz.


Nicola Ashbrook

Nicola Ashbrook is fairly new to writing, having had another life in the NHS. She lives in the north-west of England with her family of boys, cats and an over-zealous Boston Terrier.
Some of her previous publications can be found at Lunate, Nymphs & Emerge Literary Journal. Here are the links:
Nicola is on Twitter @NicolaAWrites and blogs at

Image by vargazs from Pixabay


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