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A Truly
Scary Halloween Story: Handing Out
Christian Tracts Almost Got the Bunn family of By Neal Horsley ( Danny and Gayle Bunn are Christians who believe Halloween is a pagan holiday that found its roots in the ancient Druid child sacrifice rituals. So, to them, it was perfectly logical that they hand out tracts that explained and dramatized the connection between the ancient Druid sacrifice of children and the present day American child sacrifice of legalized abortion. In hindsight it is obvious that the Bunn family was out of
step with the “spirit” of the times.
The Idaho Statesmen, Halloween has long been known as
a time when dangerous events occur. The Associated Press reported on But neither Danny nor Gayle Bunn
anticipated that challenging the spirit of Halloween with an authentic
Christian witness could be a fatal mistake. Gayle Bunn explained how they decided to give out Christian tracts instead of candy, “For the last two years, Halloween nights have been spent trapped in our house with all the lights out so that nobody would ring our door in order for us to avoid celebrating a day that was very anti-Christian….Two weeks ago I was standing in a Christian bookstore and seeing a box of Halloween Christian treat bags with tracts about Jesus that could be used as a witnessing opportunity on Halloween. ‘This is a great idea!’ I thought to myself. So I called Danny on my cell phone immediately and asked him if we should do that. He told me that he wanted to do it last year but he didn’t have time to get everything ready. So we decided to do it." Doorway To
the Bunn Home
Danny Bunn picks up the story from there, “I decided to give out a tract that I wrote entitled, "Halloween is for the bats!" and "Buckets", an article that was originally published in Life Advocate Magazine.* I printed it out as a booklet because I figured it would be very useful. The article entitled “Buckets” is a story about an abortionist who has the babies he has killed show up at his doorstep on Halloween, except now they have grown up and he can see them as they would have looked had he not killed them." Following is a short excerpt from the story: …Feel my heart beating? It was
beating when your curette ripped me to pieces. I was only four weeks old. And
I’m not the only one here you killed before 1974; I was just your first. So
you can’t get off the hook by naming the Supreme Court as an accomplice. And even
if we allowed you that cop-out, other things you’ve done since ’74 are
utterly abominable! She looked around and pointed into the crowd. There’s
one! Come here, honey, and show your bucket to the doctor. A five or
six year old boy came forward. He had blond bangs and the biggest, saddest
blue eyes the doctor had ever seen. The boy held out his bucket. Cantrell
covered his face with his hands. I don’t want to see! Suddenly he
felt his hands yanked downward with numbing force and found the woman’s face
scant inches from his own. Look, you!
You’ve seen it before! He looked into the upheld bucket. A fully formed male
fetus lay curled in the blood, its blue eyes open, its head turned at an
unnatural angle. This is The Walraven baby! Oh not that one! How could they know? What you
see is how he’d look now if you hadn’t broken his neck after the abortifacient you gave his mother made her uterus dump
him out. He couldn’t
have survived! he shouted. He could hear the
hysteria edging into his voice. He was pre-viable! Too immature to survive!
The best neonatal ICU in the world couldn’t have saved him! Then why’d
you break my neck? the little boy asked. Cantrell
could only sob a single harsh sound that seemed to rip itself from the
tissues inside his chest and burst free into the air. What could he say? How
could he tell them that he had miscalculated the length of gestation and that
no one had been more shocked than he at the size of the infant that had
dropped into his gloved hands. And then it had opened its eyes and stared
at him and, oh, it seemed to be trying to breathe! He’d done late
terminations before where the fetus had squirmed around awhile in the bucket
before finally dying, but this one! He
remembered thinking, What if he lets out a cry? He’d get sued by the patient
and be the laughing stock of the staff. Poor Ed Cantrell - can’t tell the
difference between an abortion and a delivery! He’d look like a jerk! So he’d done
the only thing that he could do. He gave its neck a sharp twist as he lowered
it into the bucket. The neck didn’t even crack when he broke it. Why have you
come to me? he said. Answer us
first, a child’s voice said. Why do you do it? You don’t need the money. Why
do you kill us? I told you!
I believe it is a woman’s right to… They began
to boo him, drowning him out. Then the boos changed
to a chant: Why? Why? Why? Why? Stop that!
Listen to me! I told you why! But still
they chanted, sounding like a crowd at a football game: Why? Why? Why? Why? Finally he
could stand it no more. He raised his fists and screamed. All right! Because
I can! Is that what you want to hear? I do it because I can! The room was
suddenly dead silent. The answer
startled him. He had never asked himself why before. Because I can, he said
softly. Yes, the
woman said with equal softness. The ultimate power. This picture was on the 10th
page of the 11 page tract: As to whether Danny thought the tract would create a
problem, Danny said, “I figure that it will cause some problems. More than likely there will be those in the
neighborhood who will agree with what I am doing and those who will disagree. Those who strongly disagree will let me
know. I just submitted it to the Lord and sought his guidance.” Gayle Bunn
Testifies About What She Saw Danny always enjoyed an opportunity to share truth. I saw that he had two tracts. I knew what
was on the orange tract, “Halloween is for the Bats”. But there were several thick white tracts
in the stack as well. I didn’t know
what was on those tracts—it didn’t occur to me to look at them at that point. The doorbell rang and I knew the trick-or-treating had
begun. As Danny opened the door,
“Trick-or-Treat,” yelled some children.
Danny said, “We don’t celebrate Halloween here, but I have
something for you to give to your parents, only one per family.” “Thank you,” said the children. “One of them had a mask that was a skull with fake blood
running down the side,” Danny said with astonishment. I looked again at the white tracts, but I still didn’t
know what was on them. I was sure that
everything was fine. The doorbell rang
again a short time later. “Trick-or-treat,” yelled some more children. “Are you all in the same family?” Danny asked. “Yes,” said the children.
“We don’t celebrate Halloween,” said Danny. “Please give these tracts to your parents
to read.” “Thank you,” said the children. All together, we probably only had around 10-15 rings at
the doorbell from various trick-or-treaters, with some kids who had stopped
by a second time (probably on accident).
But what was on the white tract?
My curiosity was beginning to peak, when the doorbell rang again. This time I heard an adult male voice when
Danny opened the door. “You should not be handling these out!” said a man who I
could hear but didn’t see (my computer was positioned at my desk such that I
could not see who was outside the front door). “I have every right to hand this out,” said Danny. The man left quite aggravated and Danny closed the
door. This time I had to know what was
on the white tract. “What else are you handing out, dear, beside the Halloween is for the Bats tract?” I
said. “Buckets,” said Danny. Then I knew what was going on. I had almost forgotten about that
tract. Last year, shortly after the
Halloween of 2002, Danny had spent a lot of time printing out this tract with
a friend’s help. “Buckets” is a
fictitious Halloween story of an abortionist who was visited by several
trick-or-treaters one Halloween—only the children visiting him were the
babies he aborted. The 10th
page of the 11 page tract had a picture of aborted babies, demonstrating the
reality of abortion. At that moment, I sensed that feeling of conflict
again. Danny, of course, looked very
comfortable, knowing that he was making an impact. “Abortion and Halloween are about the same
thing,” said Danny. I thought back to
the origins of Halloween—how the druids sacrificed innocent human life. I realized at that moment that abortion was
the same thing. My son Daniel, at that moment came into the living
room. I noticed he was still a little
tired as his squinting eyes struggled to open. I place him on the couch next to me while
giving him a hug. I saw in him the
future of what was once a great
nation. “There’s still hope,” I
thought. The doorbell rang again.
As Danny opened the door, the visit wasn’t from children anymore. “What in the fu-- are you doing handing this junk out?!”
said two men (I did not see them at this point). “I have every right to hand this out,” said Danny. “You had better fu—ing stop it
or else!” one man yelled. “You can’t stop me—this is my house—and I will keep
handing this out!” exclaimed Danny. I knew at this point we were in trouble, but thought that
reason might still work here. I moved
towards the door. “You are fu—ing handing this out
to kids and it better stop!” one of the men yelled. “Yah, you better stop it!” yelled the younger man. “Danny’s not giving them to the kids to read, he told them
to give it to their parents and that we don’t celebrate Halloween,” I said. The older man began to reach his arm through the
door. Pointing his finger at me, he
yelled “You’re fu—ing giving them to kids!” I realized that this person was not going to listen to
reason at this point and saw that this situation was clearly going to get out
of hand quickly after recognizing his arm was clearly moving beyond the
boarder of the exterior of our house. “We are not going to talk anymore and I am closing the
door.” I said as my hands started to
move the door. At that moment, the arms of both men slammed the door
against my arm while they yelled, “We’re going to fu—ing
deal with this now.” Fear began to rush through me like I had never felt it
before. I knew our family was in
trouble at that moment. “I’m calling
the police!” I yelled. As I moved away from the door to get out of harms way, I
ran over to the phone and dialed I could hear what sounded like wrestling and I screamed
into the phone, “Two men are hitting my husband!” I couldn’t hold the phone steady to hear
what the police were saying. I finally
recognized they were asking me for my phone number. After yelling the number, I saw my
husband’s head thrown down to the baseboard of the door. I knew this was it for him if I didn’t do
something now. I started yelling, “The police are coming, the police are
coming, the police are coming.” Danny Bunn’s
Testimony I open the door and after I agree
that I gave the pamphlets out they were holding in their hands they start
cussing me out big time. They tell me that it I give out one more of these
that they are going to kill my ass or something to that effect. They
are saying "f... you! You f..ing
ass hole" and a bunch of nice words. They are hollering so I start
hollering back. They keep it up, telling me to
come out there, threatening me, etc. The smaller guy who was about
5'8" pushes me in the doorway and he is seeking to come in so I
push him back out. They keep telling me that I better not hand out one
more of the pamphlets. I tell them that I am going to give them to
anyone and everyone who comes to my door. A lot
was happening but the next thing that I remember was my
wife coming over to the door and telling them to leave that she
is going to call the police. They are not really listening to
her and she attempts to shut the door on them and they push it back open
fairly hard and it hurts her arm in the process. She calls the police and that is
about the time that they come in a little bit over the threshold . The older guy (in his 40's)
about 6'1" grabs my arm and the other guy (approx. 30 years old)
grabs my other arm and they pull me out on the front porch. The older
guy starts choking me while the other one is trying to hit me with his fist. I am holding his arm while I am
getting my neck turned enough so I can breathe a little bit. I end up on floor of my
entranceway. They finally hear my wife I
guess. She is telling them that the cops are on their way. That must have finally hit them so
they walk out into the yard. I jump up and tell them to hang
around we have company coming, meaning the police. They keep walking
toward their truck. It was a light colored truck, fairly new. I run back into the house hoping
that I could get my camera before they got away. I run back out with
it, but they are in the truck and leaving. Two Men Arrested Officer Luis Gutierrez was dispatched to the scene. After talking with Danny and Gayle, he found two men, David Liehe and Del Rude who initially denied everything then finally confessed. Officer Gutierrez taped their confession. Danny and Gayle Bunn intend to press charges. The two men stand in jeopardy of two serious felony assault charges. Are The Bad Guys
Gone? Gayle Bunn’s son Daniel helps put this story in perspective. Gayle tells what her son did, “The next morning, I woke up and went back to the living room—a place I used to think of as an oasis, but is now known in my home as a “crime scene”. My son Daniel later woke up and came into the living room. “Mommy, are the bad guys gone now?” said Daniel. I wondered at that moment just who the world would think the bad guys actually are in this situation. But, you know, a small child can see it, why can’t we? I said softly, “Yes sweetheart, the bad guys are gone, and they aren’t coming back here.” Gayle Bunn told Daniel Bunn that the
bad guys are gone and won’t be back anymore.
But the hard, terrible truth is that as long as legalized abortion
continues in the What else can we expect? When we legalize murder the spirit of murder will abound, and telling anyone that we are safe will be nothing more than wishful stories loving mothers tell their four year olds so they can have a chance to sleep at night during this winter of our insane national nightmare.
· Footnote: ["Buckets"was written by F. Paul Wilson, a science-fiction writer, and published in Life Advocate magazine in October 1996.] |
