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Saved by the Bar
By Adam Ricci

    Martha ran through the flowery field towards the little yellow house in the distance. Calling from the window was the girl's mother. She jumped the small ravine as her bare feet flew towards the small pathway that led through the white picket fence that surrounding her quaint home. She charged through the gate and burst through the door. “Mother!” she called, “I'm here, what do you need?”

    “Hello Martha,” Mother smiled. “I need you to run a quick errand for me.”

    “Okay! Where am I going?” The young girl, who was always full of energy, loved helping out.

    “I want you to go to the grocer and pick up a loaf of bread and some carrots for the soup that I'm making for supper.” After thinking for a second she continued. “I think that's all I need. Here is some money for it, and I expect you will be careful and not lose any. Right dear?”

    “Of course! You know I'm always careful,” giggled the little girl as she took the money and ran out the door. “I love you!” she called over her shoulder.

    “I love you too.” Her mother smiled as she watched her daughter race out of the yard. Although Martha was only eleven, her mother trusted her with many things. She often sent her to town to pick up items that she needed.

    When she ran past Mr. and Mrs. Willard's house, Martha stopped to talk to the elderly couple as they worked in the garden. “How are you this lovely morning Martha?” inquired Mrs. Willard.

    “I'm doing splendid, and you?” beamed the young girl.

    “Absolutely marvelous,” replied Mrs. Willard.

    “Well don't you seem rather cheerful this morning, care to share why?” chuckled Mr. Willard.

    “Mother asked me to go to the store for her, and I just love helping out,” Martha chirped. “Well,  I guess I'd better be getting to the store. Mother needs these things to make supper.”

    “You be careful.” Mrs. Willard kindly warned.

    “Remember, there's no need to be afraid of the Lamperton's dog. He's tied up so he can't get you,” added Mr. Willard

    “Thank you, and I know.” called Martha as she bounced off towards town.

    The dog that Mr. Willard referred to was a Great Dane that lived on the right side of the street on the way to the grocer's. Martha had been afraid of the dog for as long as she could remember. Every time she went by the spot that it was she would get scared and run past. She had tried to conquer her fears, but to no avail. Maybe today she would be able to.

    As she walked closer to the Great Dane's Domain, she prayed “Dear God, please help me not to be scared, and to be safe.” When she got to the spot, she didn't see the dog anywhere. Strange, she thought. That dog is always in there, barking away at anyone that goes by. She started to feel relieved, her courage returning.

    “I can do this!” she stated aloud.

    Just then she saw something large and grey out of the corner of her eye. Bolting from the corner to the side of the yard, the biggest dog you will ever see charged at Martha. As the dog hit the fence and started barking as the top of its lungs, she turned and sprinted across the street, the thought of looking either way not even occurring to her.

    Out of the corner of her eye, she once again saw something large and grey, only this time it wasn't a dog. It was an old truck. A truck being driven by Mr. Jenkins.

    “Watch out!” Old Man Jenkins screeched, while trying to avoid Martha. Sadly he could not, and at the moment the front of the truck, although traveling rather slowly, hurt as it collided with the little girl.

    As all this was happening, the only thing martha could think was “Help me God.” Forced down under the car, she grabbed a small bar behind the front bumper of the truck as she fell.

    Mr. Jenkins, from inside the cab, could not see Martha as she fell. Not knowing what had happened to her, but he knew he must stop the truck. Since he had been traveling so slowly, he was able to come to a stop nearly immediately. As he burst out of the truck, he initially could not see Martha. But then he heard whimpering from beneath the big vehicle. As he looked, there was Martha, who looked rather shaken. He helped her up, and miraculously, she emerged with only a few minor scratches.

    “Are you okay?” anxiously inquired Mr Jenkins.

    “I- I think so,” stuttered Martha, as a tear trickled down her cheek.

    He flagged down the doctor, who just “happened” to be driving down the street right then, verified that she was indeed, not hurt much at all. Martha then got helped into the cab of the truck and taken home. Still shaken, Martha buckled her seat belt. Old Man Jenkins did the same.

    During the ride home, Martha spoke up.“The only thing I could do, when I was hit, was to pray that God would help me be okay.”

    “Well, from this, we certainly know that the Lord answers prayer, right?” Mr Jenkins solemnly replied.

    “Yes, yes He does!” Martha said emphatically.

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