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BORN ALIVE: Hear Their Tiny Cries
This is the story of a man who finds a cause; the prolife cause.
This cause soon takes over his life and involves many other people; tiny babies who were not supposed to live but do live and grow into unique and productive human beings.
Linc's Right To Life (Abortion) Story - Free Books Online
Linc was about three sheets to the wind when he went down the next alley five days later and stone cold sober again twenty minutes later when he came out. He had not planned to look for a child. The trauma of the last one made him want to forget about it completely. He did not even know that there was a clinic near this particular bar. He stopped because it was the first one that he came to. At first he thought it was a kitten that he heard. But in his present state he didn’t have to have a reason to go and investigate. About forty paces into the alley it turned almost pitch dark. Linc simply walked towards the sound. Then he thought that doesn’t sound like a cat, not really. He desperately tried to think of something else that would make that kind of a noise but he knew that it was a baby. Were the gods angry at him? Was it because of Marta? He didn’t like any of these questions and he didn’t really want any answers.
Another few paces and there was a break in the wall of the alley. It was the place where two buildings backed into each other that fronted on parallel streets. There was about a twenty foot clearing and the light from a street light down the way and a little light from the moon managed to shine through. Still Linc moved towards the sound. He could make out a row of garbage cans, one of them had the lid off. It was happening again. One of the babies on the second level down moved and Linc heard that sound again, that tiny cry. He grasped the little body on top and pulled it aside. There she was, a little girl with blood all over her but Linc couldn’t tell if it was her blood or the blood from some of the others in the can. He stared for a minute.
“Well, good for you, you little blighter. It was one like you that killed my Marta. My little Marta doll. My wife, how I loved her.” He sobbed for a few seconds. Then he stretched forth his hand as if to grasp the child but stopped in mid-action. A scowl came to his face again and he turned on his heels to leave almost slipping in the gore that surrounded the cans in the alley.
“Damn!” he grumbled. “I don’t want to fall in this goop. Careful there, Linc, old man.”
The child let out two more little cries. Linc stopped in his tracks and just stood there. He turned slowly so that he wouldn’t slip again and walked back towards the child mumbling about why he had to be the one. He picked up the baby with both hands getting his hands all bloody. Then he pulled off his coat and wrapped the child in it. He held it up and studied the baby’s face. Her little forehead was wrinkled with anxiety.
“I guess you can’t be blamed personally for Marta’s death. After all, we were the adults. Oh, if only I had told her not to go.” The baby answered with a tiny gurgle. They were both consummately unhappy.
“You don’t seem to be hurt,” Linc said. “I know you’re hungry. You’ve probably never eaten. But first let’s get out of here.” He put the baby in his car and drove to an all night market. He bought some canned infant formula that said ‘new born’ on it. It was in a can that took a nipple that was included and it was room temperature. He took it to the car and somehow had the good sense to feed it to the child slowly. Then he drove around while he tried to figure out what to do. Since he was in a different town, he couldn’t go back to Gilda and her friends. Finally, he put the child in an old cardboard box that had formerly been the home of six bottles of whiskey and left it on the steps of a Catholic church. Then he called the emergency number that he got from the church sign and told them there was a baby in a box just outside the side door.
David J. Keyser PhD
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