Cuddled behind a dumpster, little Sara watched and waited to see if the big man would keep searching for her. He kicked a few garbage cans over, threw a couple broken bottles against the faded red brick walls of the alley and yelled out “Come here you little brat, if I get my hands on you….”. But Sara stayed crouched in her little hiding place safe and secure from this mammoth man of evil. Tears rolled down her cheeks like the rain off a tin roof. She held the sleeve of her coat to her mouth to muffle any involuntary sounds she might make. The man soon cussing and yelling continued down the alley until he could be heard no more. Shaking and cold, Sara slowly stepped out from her wall of hope and starred hopelessly down the dark abyss where the man disappeared. Clutching a little worn out book in her hand she spoke softly “Mister Jesus, I am so afraid. What do I do now Mister Jesus?” She slowly walked up the alley toward a small building with a cross painted on the door. She grabbed the doorknob and turned it gently hoping against hope that it would open. She did not know what the place was but she thought she could wait inside for a few minutes and get out of the cold if only for a little while. The doorknob turned and the door opened. Inside this door was a large room full of wooden benches with a tall table in front. There was a rather primitive wooden crossed tacked to the front of the table.
Sara had spent all of her life in a state orphanage run by Mr. Muncey, the big man now chasing her. She had never been to church but one day, on a Christmas Eve, there was a small group of people that came to her orphanage and gave all the kids candy and a toy. One of the people Sara remembered was named Rebecca and she read a story that has been in Sara’s mind for nearly three years now. It was the story of another little child named Jesus that was born in a manger. Sara had remembered that story and told it to herself over and over again. Nice Miss Rebecca gave Sara another little gift that that day Sara cherished very much. It was the little book that Sara now clutched in her hand, the little worn bible she now protected and talked to. She could not read very well yet but she tried so hard to understand all the words in the little book.
One page she had marked and she read it over and over again. “ For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.” Mr. Muncey had tried to take her little book many times but something always got in the way. Once he reached over and grabbed it and was going to throw it in the furnace when all the lights went out and he had to go get candles. By the time he got the circuit breaker back on he had forgotten about Sara’s little book and she grabbed it back up and hid it under her mat. Mr. Muncey was a mean man that beat the children for very little reason. Each year at this time there would be gifts brought to the orphanage for the children but as soon as the good people would leave Mr. Muncey would collect all the gifts and go sell them at the local flea market. Mr. Muncey would tell the children that he was doing it for their own good. He would say that there are no free rides in life and that they had better get used to it.
Up on the wall Sara saw a picture of a kind man with long hair and a beard. She did not know why but she somehow felt safe here. The floor was of hard wood, just as hard as the benches but Sara thought she would just stay here for the night. She crawled up one of the front benches and curled up the best that she could. Her long brown hair made a nice scarf around her neck and she pulled her legs up into her coat as much as possible to keep them from going numb. Her breathe was like smoke as she tried to stay warm. “Mr. Jesus, I need you” she mumbled as she drifted into a light sleep. After lying there a few minutes the smoke from her breathe disappeared as the room began to warm up. She felt much more comfortable now and relaxed somewhat on the bench. As her sleep started to deepen she was awakened with a loud pound on the door. “Sara…Sara you little runt I will rip the hide from your back” the voice shouted. Sara sat up and again started shaking. The door began to rattle and move as the voice on the other side began to rant and rave and pound. She could tell the door was beginning to crack as Mr. Muncey kicked at it with all his might. The room began to get brighter and glow and Sara for a moment forgot of the rage behind the door. Suddenly all around the room were very tall people. Their clothes were bright white and some even had wings like eagles on their backs. Two of them stood together at the door side by side. These two were much larger than the others and held large shining swords in their hands.
A gentle hand touched Sara on the shoulder from behind and as she turned there was the man in the picture. ‘Its ok Sara, I am here with you and will not leave you. I need you too Sara” the gentle voice said. She looked up into the face of the man when she was startled by the cracking sound of wood. She turned quickly to face the door as the facing around it shattered into the air. With one mighty kick Mr. Muncey blew the door open. “Alright you little wretch, I promised you a beaten and I am a man of my word” he scowled. His eyes quickly fixed on the two angelic beings in his path and he dropped the board he had in his hand. “What the….hey who are you…what are you?’ he staggered backwards a step or two and then the anger raged within him again. “Get out of the way you freaks, I’m going to bust me a butt” he screamed. The two beings moved forward, one of the swords lifted upward and lunged forward striking Mr. Muncey straight into the heart. There was no blood but Mr. Muncey grabbed his chest and fell to his knees. Sara saw behind him blue flashing lights and two police officers rushed into through the door with guns drawn. They grabbed Mr. Muncey and placed hand cuffs on him. The pastor of the little church came in right behind the officers. One of the officers thanked the pastor for calling them from the church. The 911 call helped them trace the call straight to the church so they were able to get there fast. They said if they had not gotten there when they did, they feared Mr. Muncey would have killed the little girl. Pastor Larken stood there rather dazed for a moment and then spoke in a shakey voice. Officer, I just got here and I did not call you… besides we don’t have a phone here at the church. Little Sara looked back at the picture on the wall and softly whispered “thank you Mister Jesus”.
Written by Terry Lee Richardson
Copyright © December 23, 2010
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