Insurrection by Arun D Ellis - book 4 in the Corpalism series

5

By abortion, the mother does not learn to love,
but kills even her own child to solve her problems

Mother Theresa

The Preacher collapsed into a chair in the rundown dressing room, drained and tired; it had been a good session. There was a knock at the door and a man strode in, shaking the rain off his coat and brushing his hair back with his hand. A powerfully-framed man, mid-thirties, the Preacher had noted him in his audience, he’d come early and stayed until the end. He might even have been before.

“Hi, Barry, Barry Onslow,” he said, sticking his hand out for the Preacher to shake. When no hand materialised he let his own drop, ignoring the slight. “And that was truly amazing.”

The Preacher’s eyes narrowed and he tilted back his head, unused to such praise.

“I mean, you really had them there,” Barry continued, unfazed by the silent scrutiny, “especially with all that ‘live your life’ stuff.”

The Preacher said nothing; he didn't trust many people and this man was too confident and bullish.

“Look," said Barry, unruffled, "those people out there, they’d like to hear more from you.”

“They are always welcome to listen,” said the Preacher, his voice a quiet dismissal. He was still trying to get the measure of this new arrival; irritated that once he would have been able to assess in seconds what now seemed almost impossible, so out of touch was he with the world.

“Well that’s just it, er…I don’t know your name?” said Barry, settling himself into a chair he’d pulled from a stack in the corner. When he received no response he continued smoothly, “Where are they welcome? Here? Do you own this place?”

The Preacher shook his head, “No, I use it when I can get in.” He left a pause, then thinking it would do no harm to unbend a little, volunteered, “At night it’s usually full of the homeless.”

“So where can people hear you? Some of these people are busy, with jobs and families ….”

“Of course,” said the Preacher, “I know how busy they are – that is part of my point, after all.”

Barry recognised the need to proceed slowly, “I’m just saying that not everyone can get here.”

“I also work on London Bridge…..I go to them because I know they can’t come to me.”

“Right,” said Barry, his attempt at patience abandoned at the first hurdle, “Look friend, I get what you’re saying but if you want to get through to as many people as possible, to get your message across, then you need to be more organised, you need to have a proper place to present your views, you need to have regular times, to advertise….”

“No,” said the Preacher, his eyes darkening, “I’ve turned my back on that culture.”

“I get all that,” said Barry, leaning forward in his chair, causing the Preacher to sit back in his, “but what about the people who would join you? What about the people who would also turn their backs on this crazy world of ours if they were just shown the way? If they were just given some help, some hope, guidance even? Surely you want to reach out to them?”

The Preacher shrugged. Barry took it as a sign and arranged a session for that afternoon.

∞

The Preacher scrunched up his eyes and rubbed his face. He was bone-tired. He had nothing inside him, no clue what to talk about, his mind a blank and then it came to him and he said, quite conversationally, "I have always held the firm belief that it is any woman's right to have an abortion if she feels it is the correct thing for her to do. It's her body that will be ruined by the pregnancy and she will be the one left holding the baby if the male runs out on her."

Barry froze; abortion, what next! He started to make swift assessments of the audience then gave up worrying; if it worked, it worked, if it didn't, then he'd lost nothing by it.

The Preacher started to pace slowly, "It is a valid argument; it could also be that the relationship is not one in which she would like to raise a child but that is a different conversation, that of the inherent responsibilities attached to the act of copulation."

The Preacher's glance fell on a woman looking up at him, she was nodding emphatically. He recognised that with his next words he was going to alienate her. "However," he was nodding himself now, "the current pro-abortion argument only takes into consideration the views and feelings of one, possibly two, of the three individuals involved."

He stopped and looked out into his audience, "Please can I have a show of hands, who believes abortion is acceptable?" Several arms went into the air and he did a rough count, "Well I make that roughly two thirds the hall, which must mean that the rest of you don't support it. Now, of those who support the idea of abortion, do you have any views you would be willing to share? Please raise your arms."

"You madam," said the Preacher, pointing to a matronly woman with a bitter expression.

"Why should the woman have to carry and look after a baby on her own? Two people made the mistake, it's a shared responsibility," she said, emphasising her point with a chopping movement of her head.

"Agreed," said the Preacher, "however, that's not relevant to the concept of ending another life that's merely relevant to the female position."

"Are you saying then," said the woman, her tone challenging, "that the woman has no right to choose? It's her body, why should she be the only one to bear the consequences?"

He looked out into the audience, making eye contact with the first few rows, raising his voice to reach those at the back, "This woman's argument is about the selfishness of the male who leaves the pregnant female in the lurch. Followed by the self interest of the female who would sacrifice her own child so that she can continue to live an unencumbered life."

"That's not what she meant," stated another woman, half standing in her agitation.

"Then help me to understand," said the Preacher moving towards her.

"Mistakes happen," said the woman, "why should two people who had a short sexual relationship have to commit to each other forever as punishment for that mistake?"

Several people applauded, others jeered.

"I understand your argument but what has that to do with terminating a life? That's like running your finger down a telephone list and saying whether or not a person should be allowed to live."

"No, it's not," shouted a man, "those people are alive, a foetus is nothing more than gunk."

"It's murder," shouted a woman from the back of the hall, "if you don't want a baby, use a bloody contraceptive." There were cheers from some parts of the hall, a few bursts of laughter. "Abortion isn't contraception, that's all some girls see it as these days."

"You'd have us go back to backstreet abortions with coat hangers," shouted the first woman.

"It's a woman's right to choose what happens to her body," said another, standing up and then sitting down again, point made.

"You are making my point," said the Preacher, "when we discuss abortion we talk only about the rights of the woman who will carry that child."

"What about where the baby threatens the mother's life?" asked a man from the balcony.

"Or rape?" demanded another man, "why should she get saddled with a rapist's child?"

"Again," said the Preacher, "you all make valid points....yet, it's all about the mother, or the partners who don't want a baby, or the family of a rape victim."

He paced back and forth whilst the audience argued amongst themselves, then he spoke again "Of course, where the mother's life is at risk, abortion is the only course of action. And if the rape victim is a child then clearly the experience of birth could be dangerous and mentally disturbing. So in child rape scenarios, abortion is acceptable." He waited whilst the murmurs of assent rippled round the audience, seeing nods of approval. "However I maintain that all other scenarios put the selfish needs of the potential parents above those of a defenceless individual."

"Contraception doesn't always work, mistakes happen...." This came from the matronly woman who had spoken before. His argument clearly wasn't reaching her.

"What about the child's rights?" demanded another woman, leaning over the balcony and shouting down at her.

"Shouldn't have sex if you're not prepared to live with the consequences," stated an elderly man two rows back from the front.

"Fuck you!" shouted the matron, "why should women be denied free sex? Men have always had it easy and women have always been made to feel like sluts if they do the same."

"You're a chauvinist," shouted another woman, "you want to fuck around but marry a virgin."

The Preacher returned to the centre of the stage and watched as the arguments flew around the hall. He waited for things to calm but when they didn't he reached down for the foghorn he had taken to keeping nearby and let rip. Shocked silence.

"I hear all of your arguments," he said, his voice emollient and placatory, "and I understand the points you are making but none of them address the crux of the matter."

He paused, waiting until he had their full attention, "Which is that, except in exceptional circumstances, abortion is the act of ultimate selfishness effected by either an individual or group of individuals who have behaved or are behaving irresponsibly."

The argument in the stands between both camps erupted again. He left the stage.

Hope you have a nice week

Cheers

Arun