Church with Kuroshiro
The pews were lined with finely dressed men and women, their children thumbing through the identical bibles with their stubby fingers. Everyone had filed in nicely, conversing with one another as if they were good friends. And they probably were; this church was centuries old, one of the oldest in the nation. Or at least that’s what Kuroshiro claimed.
At five after nine in the morning, the organist had begun to play a hymn, and everyone automatically picked up a song book to sing the lyrics.
From the grand doors in the back, Griffin and Kuroshiro entered stealthily, unbeknownst to the average churchgoer. They clung to the farthest wall from everyone else, hiding in the shadows. Kuroshiro seemed to be in his safehaven. Griffin was on the verge of breaking into a cold sweat.
Twenty minutes passed, and finally, a man clothed in white stepped forward. Immediately, he opened his leather book and read a most disturbing verse, unbefitting for such a casual setting but deemed normal.
“In Revelations 9, the prophets speak of a beast, a terrible beast, who will bring about the downfall of man,” declared the man. “But its downfall is inevitable. The downfall of its followers, certain. ‘And the beast was captured, and with it the false prophet who in its presence had done the signs by which he deceived those who had received the mark of the beast and those who worshiped its image. These two were thrown alive into the lake of fire that burns with sulfur.’”
Griffin regretted agreeing to join his spirit companion. The beast... why did he feel as though it applied to him?
The mark of the beast... He knew, or had heard somewhere, that it was a number. Yet his fingers inevitably stroked the three scars on his face.
The rest of the service went by in a blur. No other words sank in. Kuroshiro was enthralled, but Griffin was nauseous.
By the end, Griffin had paled; the sermon had consisted of tales of the upcoming apocalypse, probably due to the Mayan’s so-called prediction, and the wyvern had never enjoyed such dismal stories. Luckily, Kuroshiro motioned for him to leave as the preacher said the prayer. Griffin gladly obliged, relieved that his companion had either recognized his discomfort or conveniently made plans.
“Thanks for coming with me, Griffin,” the spirit said as they walked down the streets. “I kind of doubt any of the others would want to be seen in such a... religious setting.”
A small smile arose on the wyvern’s lips. “It was no problem. I am happy to accompany you.”
A moment passed. “You aren’t Catholic, are you?”
Griffin shook his head. “No, I follow the religion my ancestors did.”
“So Gods and Goddesses?” The wyvern nodded. “I’d thought it died out long ago.”
“Most Grecians are Greek Orthodox. I do not quite remember my past, but I am rather certain I was raised to celebrate and worship the Gods and Goddesses of old.”
With a short laugh, Kuroshiro said, “I suppose it makes sense. You’re something from ancient times. Why not embrace it?”
They shared a laugh before Griffin sobered. “I must admit, the Catholic religion is intriguing, but I am not fond of the death and destruction the preacher spoke of.”
“It normally isn’t that dark, but I guess it has to be talked about sometime.”
“That is one thing I hate about the Christian faith is how negative it can be. 185,000 people killed by an angel. Famine and plague. Evil kings. Murder and rape and death and destruction. It is worse than a fiction tale or a Greek tragedy. And the mark of the beast...” Once more, his fingers brushed over his scars, and Kuroshiro finally realized what made his colleague so uncomfortable.
“You aren’t a beast, Griffin,” the psychopomp said, furrowing his brows. “And you certainly aren’t evil.”
“Some would beg to differ,” came his disheartened reply.
At this, Kuroshiro took Griffin’s shoulder in hand, forcing them to a standstill. “Listen to me, Griffin. I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but I know for a fact that you aren’t evil. You are as good as any of us, and you’ve lived a hard life. I respect you. I would never respect something evil.”
Griffin turned a hard stare on the ghost. “I appreciate it, but until I have proof, I cannot accept that.” He began walking once more, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.
Defeated, Kuroshiro continued after the wyvern, hoping that, one day, he’d see the error in his ways.
