Evangelus

Sean Mulligan was born into the scent of yeast and clouds of flour dust in Doolin, a small fishing village on the rugged west coast of Ireland. His father, Conor Mulligan, was the village’s most skilled baker; his hands were always covered in flour as if wearing white gloves. His mother, Siobhán, worked at the front of the bakery, serving the warm loaves fresh from the oven with the same amount of love.

For Sean, life began long before the first rays of light hit the earth, starting with the sound of the baking peel scraping against the stone floor. Conor taught his son not just how to make bread, but how to be patient. "Bread has a soul, Sean," his father would say, the heat of the hearth reddening his face. "If you rush the dough, it will resent you. Give it time, and it will give you life." Sean spent his childhood in the shadow of that massive, warm oven. While the famous Irish rain fell and the Atlantic winds howled outside, he felt the peace of growing up in that warm, sheltered world. However, a flame of curiosity burned inside Sean, even brighter than the bakery's fire: What lay beyond that restless ocean at the edge of the village?

Months passed.By the time Sean turned eleven, his height had almost reached his father’s shoulders. That Sunday morning, Doolin was grayer and windier than usual. After finishing the weekly bakery errands, Conor spotted an old friend in the village square and said, "Wait here for two minutes, son, I’ll be right back," leaving Sean on a wooden bench overlooking the harbor. As Sean sat there, his eyes were fixed once again on the restless ocean; the sound of waves crashing against the rocks felt as if they were trying to tell him something.

Just then, an elderly woman with a slightly hunched back appeared just across the road. She was struggling to carry a bundle of papers pressed against her chest. Suddenly, a sharp Atlantic gust whistled through the narrow streets, and the papers in her hands scattered into the sky like a flock of birds. The old woman reached out with trembling hands to catch the fluttering pages, but the wind was playing games with them. Sean sprang into action without a moment's hesitation. As he chased after the pages, he noticed strange maps, star charts, and odd figures resembling sea monsters drawn on some of them. He caught one page mid-air just as it was about to fly into the ocean. When he turned and handed the papers back to her, he saw that her eyes were as blue as the deepest part of the sea. The old woman smiled, but there was a mystery in that smile unlike anything Sean had ever felt before. "Thank you, little baker," she whispered. "Sometimes the wind doesn't just scatter papers; it scatters destinies."

As the woman walked away, Sean felt a strange sensation spreading through his entire body. He couldn't take his eyes off her for even a second; her steps were silent, and her coat billowed in the wind like the fin of a sea creature. Those strange maps and sea monster drawings he had just seen kept spinning in his mind. "Who was this woman?" Sean wondered. He thought he knew everyone in town, but this face was too foreign to be a Doolin local, yet as familiar as the ocean itself.

Just then, a warm hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his thoughts. "Sean? What are you looking at, son?" It was his father, Conor. He had finished his short chat with his friend and returned with his usual calm expression. Sean pointed to the empty street across from them, but the woman had already vanished into thin air. "A woman, father... She dropped her papers," was all he could say. Conor noticed the distant and mesmerized look on his son’s face but didn't press him. "Come on then, let’s not keep your mother waiting. The bakery is calling us," he said. As Sean followed his father, he looked back one last time; only a bit of flour dust drifted by the wind and the salt of the sea remained at the corner of the street.After the busy morning at the bakery, Sean went to the kitchen to have the warm soup his mother Siobhán had prepared. When he finished his meal and stepped outside, he encountered a strange sight despite the bright sun in the sky. A boy about his age was sitting on a wall by the roadside. What was strange was that even though the weather was sunny, this boy was soaking wet and shivering as if he had just stepped out of the ocean. His gaze was fixed on the ground, and his shoulders were slumped in despair.

With a sense of curiosity and compassion, Sean slowly approached the boy. "Hey, hello," he said in a soft voice. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" When the boy looked up, the deep sadness in his eyes pierced Sean’s heart. The boy could only whisper one word in a trembling voice: "I'm hungry..." Sean didn't think for a second. He immediately ran back to the bakery and grabbed a fresh, steaming loaf of bread. When he returned, he didn't just give the bread; he also took off his own dry, clean t-shirt and handed it to the wet boy. "Here, wear this, you'll catch a cold," Sean said. The boy looked at Sean with a mix of surprise and gratitude for this selfless kindness. The sun was shining above, but the real warmth was hidden in Sean's small gesture.As soon as Sean burst through the bakery door, he shouted, "Mother! Mother, there's a boy outside, he's soaking wet!" Seeing that her son was missing his t-shirt and seeing the panic in his eyes, Siobhán dropped her cleaning cloth. Sean continued excitedly: "He was so hungry, I gave him my bread and my t-shirt. Can we bring him inside? He’s shivering under the sun!" Siobhán smiled at her son’s huge heart and said, "Of course, son, bring him in right away; let's offer him another bowl of hot soup."

As soon as he got his mother's approval, Sean dashed outside with great joy. However, when he reached that stone wall by the road, he froze. There was no trace of the soaking wet, sad boy who had been sitting there just moments ago. Sean looked up the street, ran toward the harbor, and checked every corner, but the boy had vanished like a morning mist clearing away. There were no footprints, nor any wet spots left behind by the boy. All he saw was a small, wet pebble glistening on top of the wall. Sean stood there in silence, the harsh Atlantic wind blowing against his bare shoulders, wondering where that boy he had given his shirt to could have gone in such a short time.