“Cryptids”, Sarah Mak
My father and I were at the longkang to catch the Merlion.
We tried to lure it with bread we smuggled from a hotel buffet. The Merlion swam over, but somehow it was dark blue in colour and the size of a large koi.
When my father tried to catch it with his bare hands, it slipped away and he caught a guppy instead. He was convinced that the guppy was the Merlion.
I tried to persuade my father otherwise, but he did not listen.
As we argued, we missed our chance to catch it.
I don't know why I had this dream. My brain could be trying to remind me about all the times my parents chose not to believe me.
Like when my father taught me how to use a wooden bow
and I got a splinter. As my hand tore in pain whenever I tried to write, I cried
and he thought that I was trying to avoid doing homework.
I think I cried for more than an hour
before he saw the splinter and pulled it out.
When we're young, our parents seem to be perfect, arbiters of truth.
Then they make mistakes.
We realise that we were loving ideas of people.
Maybe the real myths are parents who never disappoint us,
but we love them anyway.