by K. V. Turley
Catholic Exchange
Earlier that evening I had made my way down a deserted London street. Minutes later my finger pressed a buzzer marked: Basement. A door opened, and I found myself descending a narrow flight of stairs to the basement area of a large house.
Sat waiting for me was a man who wishes to remain anonymous. Suffice it to say I know who he is and, more importantly, what he is. On reading an article about the closing of an abortion clinic in London, one I had had published some months previously, he contacted me to say that he wanted to tell me ‘things that would be of interest’. Now, at last, we had met, and, as he bid me sit, began his tale.
‘It’s clearly satanic!’I looked at the man sat opposite and my mind started to race… Having sat and listened to the facts presented I struggled to draw any other conclusion. But could it be so? Was there really a supernatural backdrop to what was taking place? The facts seemed hard to dispute.
Earlier that evening I had made my way down a deserted London street. Minutes later my finger pressed a buzzer marked: Basement. A door opened, and I found myself descending a narrow flight of stairs to the basement area of a large house.
Sat waiting for me was a man who wishes to remain anonymous. Suffice it to say I know who he is and, more importantly, what he is. On reading an article about the closing of an abortion clinic in London, one I had had published some months previously, he contacted me to say that he wanted to tell me ‘things that would be of interest’. Now, at last, we had met, and, as he bid me sit, began his tale.
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