I was about to call it a day. I stood alone outside Milton Keynes main abortion mill; Acorn House. I was cold and tired. My arms ached from holding a large plastic sign displaying ‘1000 babies murdered here per year’, it was not having the shock value I had hoped. It’s a thankless task raising awareness of infanticide in a city I call Apathy. It was raining now. I pulled up my hood and  noticed a large 4x4 parking adjacent to where I stood. Mum and Dad with at least two young kids in the back. Mum alighted and descended the wet concrete steps that I’m forbidden to set foot on. The Police have told me it’s private property to those opposing child sacrifice.  The slim black Mom now crossed the small square courtyard and with an expressionless face, read my sign before  casually passing by the small spindly tree (since cut down) that  Catholics tie silver medals of their pagan queen in the fragile fruitless branches.

Acorn House is a nondescript concrete oblong of a building offering cheap office space by the side of the sloping Midsummer Boulevard. It’s owned by The Community Foundation. A local charity whose slogan proudly states ‘Connecting and growing our community for 34 years’. It would be more accurate to state that the charity is connecting unborn babies with their executioners and reducing the community! It’s common practice for the abortion industry and those who facilitate it, to use pleasant sounding euphemisms to make their evil ways sound more benign to the public. I like calling things what they are, however on this occasion I’ve called it tragically wrong.

Mum had not headed to the main entrance like I expected, where a number of disparate businesses reside, instead she had entered the side door and is inside the human abattoir. This has confused me. It’s not unusual for a woman to enter alone but I’ve never seen kids wait in the car whilst mom nips in to knock off their sibling! I fall to my knees, praying earnestly. The Dad who sat behind the wheel is now standing over me. A well dressed black man, in his late 40’s confirms my fears that his child is about to be ‘processed’ at the tax payers expense. The abortion industry is worth billions. It’s shocking not just how lucrative it is, but also who is championing this legalised murder. Bill and Melinda Gates were not half the surprise to me as WaterAid or Johnson&Johnson were! I’m not sure which of us spoke first. He became very angry when I asked him to go inside and rescue his child.

I pointed to his other children in the back seat awaiting their Mum, “their brother or sister is being murdered and you can stop it happening; you have to go inside now, please save your baby”! He proceeded to throw away his chance by launching into a madly irrelevant monologue on Luther’s ninety five thesis being attached to a door in Wittenberg! This tension was testing my sanity. “we have enough children already for our age” another excuse for his inaction. Here was a black male. Did he not know the abortion industry was founded with the principle intention of culling blacks? Did the murderous name, Margaret Sanger, mean nothing to him? It meant as little as his baby. The Dad returned to his vehicle. We had both failed the black baby.  I shall see that  baby in heaven one day and it will know by my countenance that it is wanted alive not dead. I was so distressed over this lost baby that I could not bring myself to return to Acorn House for many months. In a city called Apathy, I called it a day. A horrid day.