Chapter 9: Forbidden Entry

"Devil? What?" The pastor didn't understand what his higher up was saying, rubbing his forehead in confusion as he glanced at Randolph.

"You were nearly fooled by it! Listen carefully Brandon, the devil cannot come in if he isn't invited!"

The priest's – Allen's – demeanor was livid as he scolded the pastor, but he seemed to be calming down for the most part.

"Excuse me, are you referring to me?" Flabbergasted, Randolph pointed a finger at himself.

"…" Father Allen gave Randolph some very mean side-eye, glaring knives into him.

"You can fool the pastor, but you can't fool me, devil. I saw what happened, I know what you are."

"W-what? I just came to the church to pray, I'm not trying to fool anyone."

"Uh, Father Allen, are you sure about what's going on?" Equally as astounded as Randolph, the pastor Brandon sounded out his doubts.

"Don't doubt me Brandon, you fool! It may only have been for a short period of time, but I've worked with the inquisitors before. They more than exist, and even I can tell who from what if you gave me such a clear scene."

"What… the hell is going on…" Randolph was completely astounded, not knowing what to do. The incident from before combined with the sudden accusations overcharged his already taxed brain. "I really have no clue what you're talking about."

"Enough of your lies, you creature!" His face growing redder, the priest's voice continued raising as he spoke.

"Father Allen, are you absolutely sure of what you're talking about?"

Glancing at Randolph, Brandon could only see an injured and downtrodden young man who had come to the church to pray in his time of need. He was someone clearly seeking salvation, and it was his responsibility to help him as much as he could.

"You're just a rookie, Brandon. You don't know anything."

Turning to Randolph, Allen jutted out a finger towards him.

"You didn't see the scene clearly earlier! He bounced off the church's entrance when he tried to enter. Do you know why?! It's because demons aren't allowed in the House of God! I don't know what business you have at my small chapel, but you aren't allowed in!"

"W-what are you talking-…"

A response came up instinctively but was strangled in Randolph's throat. The revelation struck him like lightning out the blue, but he could barely comprehend the man's words.

"Father, but he's hurt-"

"Fine! If you're not a devil, then enter the church. I don't allow you entry, but prove yourself!"

Cutting Brandon off, Allen pulled out a crucifix that had been hanging around his neck.

"Stay back, Brandon. It's dangerous."

Pointing it at Randolph, he held his arm out and stepped in front of the pastor before slowly backing the both of them up.

A look of frustration was on the pastor's face, but even he found the test reasonable. If the father made such a big deal out of it then it was surely a matter of at least some importance. Either way, crossing a threshold shouldn't be even remotely a problem.

"…" But Randolph only stared at the two dumbfoundedly.

Turning his gaze down, he looked towards the entrance to the chapel.

Rejection? I don't understand. Is this a prank? Are they filming a movie? But why was the feeling so realistic? A devil? I just…

The most prominent feeling that Randolph felt was injustice. He subconsciously accepted the fact that he had indeed been denied entry by the church. There was no such technology that existed that could possibly explain him bouncing off of mid-air, or that invisible wall. Even if there was, who would go to such lengths to prank him?

"What are you waiting for?!"

Turning his gaze towards the priest, Randolph began moving. He stuck his hand out towards the church's double-doors under Father Allen's watchful eyes., but he hesitated right before sticking it through.

I may not be a good person, but I've avoided being immoral for my entire life. I've paid my bills on time, worked hard, and took responsibility for my actions.

Upon reaffirming his conscious, he found that it was clear. There was nothing for him to feel guilty about, therefore, he thrust his hand through the entrance without hesitation.

But, perhaps as if to spite him, his hand wasn't even able to reach the door before it was slapped back by an unseen force. Maybe it was because of the amount of force he used but it was a rather violent slap, knocking his arm behind his back.

"DEVIL!"

While Brandon stood there staring, Father Allen seemed to have already expected such an outcome.

Grabbing the of holy water near the entrance, he continuously scooped handfuls as he threw it onto Randolph, splashing it all over him as he shouted in a righteous fury.

"BEGONE! DEMON!"

"Stop it, what are you doing?!" Randolph wanted to charge in and knock the basin out of the man's hands, but he was stopped by the invisible field.

"Stay in the church, Brandon! He can't reach us in here!"

The priest's continued shouting, attracting even more attention from the churchgoers. They grouped up a distance away from the entrance of the church, muttering to each other as they watched the scene.

Randolph could even see some of the more panicked ones pull out their phones, dialing unknown numbers.

Witnessing this, the young man decisively turned on his heels as he dashed down the stone stairs to the church.

"BEGONE!"

With the priest still shouting curses behind him, Randolph sprinted through the park's dirt trail with his wet clothes.

His mind was full of unanswered questions as he ran. He wanted answers, but he couldn't stay there for even a second longer. If the police were to come, they wouldn't defend him. Quite the opposite in fact. It didn't matter who was in the right or wrong, one look between the two and anybody would make the same decision.

A beat up, dirty, and smelly man, or the two dignitaries¹ of the local church?

It wasn't to mention the unexplainable phenomenon of his rejection from the church. He couldn't tell how the government would react, and he wasn't willing to find out.

All he knew was that this clearly meant one thing, being that the church had rejected him. Him who had a clear conscious.

He felt like he was going insane as he ran. It was as if the world, even God, was forcing him to take the matters into his own hands. The country's laws had rejected him. Its people had rejected him. Its police had rejected him. Now, the church and even religion seemed to have rejected him. Who could he depend on aside from now himself?

What did I do to deserve this treatment?

He had no last resorts left, and now he couldn't even pray for his situation to get better.

Randolph continued running through the streets, his breathing rough. The holy water that wet his clothes chilled his body, sucking away its heat and energy, but he almost didn't notice it due to the heaviness that weighed down on his heart.