Forgotten and Lost 5

"Po?" the man asked in Tagalog. "Where are you from?"

"From Manila po," said the boy as he knelt down and opened his shoeshine box.

"You'd better start learning Visayan, boy," said the man. He took his shoe off the box. "Tagalog's a dead language. It only reminds us of what those fools from Manila did to us."

"But po-" pleaded the boy as the man turned away.

"I ain't doing anything with some braggart kid from Manila!" he walked off. "You Manila people are all the same," he continued. "Rich or poor, you all look down on us."

He was left without a customer. Since he started shining shoes he had only two or three customers, he couldn't remember. The last time he had a customer was two weeks ago. Fifty pesos slipped his grasp. He would still be eating tonight, but there would be no money for anything else. 

The clouds were gathering and rain began to pour. Gaston Park wasn't the place to hang around in the middle of a thunderstorm. He headed to one of the waiting sheds, where people were gathering but caught sight of the man.

Fearful, he turned away and the rain started to fall, and it fell heavily. By now, all the waiting sheds were crowded to capacity. The concrete was wet. He slipped and fell. His box fell open, its contents scattering. He turned and looked at the contents; the bar of ink was getting soaked in the rain and turning to liquid, the can of shoe polish rolled away, the brush and rag were nearby.

Then he became aware of another presence. Turning back, he saw a pair of shoes under a black robe whose hem was getting soaked in the rain. A priest? He looked up and beheld a pair of eyes staring back at him

Those eyes belonged to the man in the black robe. They were steady and piercing. The priest wore a red sash around his waist and from his neck hung a large Byzantine cross and a pair of large pendants bearing the images of saints. So this was no ordinary priest.

The priest held an open umbrella in his left hand. He stretched out his right, holding it to the boy. He said not a word.

Thunder boomed and lightning lit up the sky.

A subordinate placed his hand on the man's left shoulder. "Sir?" he said. "Lord Ethan has just gotten off the plane."