Archive for the ‘Creative’ Category
Fathers
What legacy would I leave my son? — a short story by Angeline Koh
© Angel’s original . Written April 2001
I walked into the room and there he sat. I did not think Ah Pa had noticed that I had come in. Ah Ma had told me for as long as I could remember, “Seng, don’t go in the room. Don’t disturb your father.” I stood there stunned. It was five in the morning. I did not expect to see anyone in there. The surprise of his presence woke me out of my half-sleep.
I was nine. The room had always held an intrigue for me. What secrets mysteries or treasures lay behind the closed wooden door with its chipped off paint and tarnished copper doorknob?
That day, the door stood half ajar. The echo of Ah Ma’s numerous reminders made the urge to enter overpowering. I was surprised, maybe a little disappointed – No treasure chest, no mystical trap doors, no secret maps, no fire-breathing dragons. There was nothing in the room save an old gigantic antic desk and an oddly matched but large comfortable armchair. The soft incandescent light of the table lamp lighted the room. There was a small pile of dog-eared magazines and books on the table. Father’s eyes were fixed on the opened Book that he was reading. The light from the table lamp reflected into my eyes. From where I stood, it was hard to make out the expression on his face. His was quiet and deep in thought. Not wanting to be caught, I turned hurriedly to leave.
“Come in son,” Ah Pa called.
“Oh darn! He’s seen me.” I thought. I shivered in my oversized hand-me-down pyjamas.
“I’m sorry Ah Pa.” I whimpered nervously as I recalled the caning I got the week before for stealing from Ta-Ker’s piggy bank. I moved apprehensively toward him.
“Why are you doing up so early son?”
“I. I got up to. to go. I. I’m sorry Ah Pa, I’ll go back to sleep.”
“It’s ok Seng,” he said as he lifted me up onto his lap. He stroked my hair and pressed my head against his breast. The soft dim light; the thump, thump, thump of his strong heat beat; the hypnotics rhythmic up and down movement of his chest; I felt him breath and I drifted back into my half sleep. The warmth of his strong embrace quietened my anxious fears. Every now and again, I would half open my ears to see what Ah Pa was doing – he remained deep in thought, his eyes fixed on his Book. I don’t know how long we remained there.
“Mr Tan,” the nurse called to me. I was awakened out of my nostalgia. I stood staring through the glass pane as I watched as the nurse clean him up. Mei was resting tired from the 4-hour labour. I still could not get over what I just witnessed – my son’s entry into the world. “Congratulations again Mr. Tan, you can come in to see them now.”
“Your son.”
My first-born son.
I am overwhelmed by the weight of joy. Twenty years of education – I am now a thirty-five year old businessman with 50 staff under me – there are courses on just about anything – financial planning, negotiation skills, computer, vehicle repair, golf. Not one single course on “Fatherhood”.
I took my son, the tiny little life in my arms, counted his ten tiny little fingers and toes. He felt so, so small, so fragile. I stood by Mei. Overwhelmed with emotions, we gave thanks to the God who had seen us through the long months of morning sickness, the hours in the doctor’s waiting room. No “how to be a father” book could have ever prepared me for this moment. I don’t think I have appreciated Ah Pa more than at this moment.
Life had begun on a silver platter for him. Ah Kong who owned the Tan Teng Huat chain of businesses had left him an inheritance. I never understood the strength of character it took for Ah Pa to resist the temptation of allowing his affluence to get the better of him. He was an honest, hard worker, a family man, a generous man. Never conforming to the growing affluence of the country after the war years, the simplicity of the room was stood as a vivid statement of his simplicity.
I remembered that morning in Ah Pa’s arms – the four of us children had learned to respect Ah Pa’s “quiet times” as he called it – the early mornings he spent with his Book, seeking to understand the heart and mind of the Author – the Book he said that had kept him a loving man and on the path of honour.
“Waa.” the baby gave a forceful cry. My mind came back to the present once again. What legacy would I leave for my son?
=======
Make a dream come true
It cost nothing to dream
© Lisa Eng and Angel original . Written December 2000
Marine Parade National Library Board Writers’ Circle
I hesistated for a moment, and then nervously proceeded to dial the 1-800 number.
“Thank you for calling the ‘Make A Dream Come True Corporation.’ Jean speaking, can I help you?” said the voice at ther other end.
“Hello Jean. Er. can you tell me how much it cost to make a dream come true?” I asked arkwardly.
“Well m’am, we have a selection of various packages. Are we talking about a big dream, a medium dream or a small one? Currently, we are having a ‘Dream A Big Dream’ promotion for the Chinese New Year. For the price of a big dream, you get a small dream thrown in for free. The offer is good while stocks lasts,” Jean said.
“Yes, but how much is a dream?” I asked
“A big dream cost $1, a medium one $100 and a small dream is $1000.”
“Is there some kind of a mistake?”
“No m’am. We are running low on small dreams because of the Christmas season. Most people only dare to invest in small dreams. We want to make big dreams affordable for everyone, so there’s no excuse for not making a big dream.”
“I’ll take the Dream a Big Dream promotion,” I gushed into the phone, “just a dollar for a big dream AND a small dream – wow, this is a steal! A dream in itself! Maybe I’ll buy a dozen promotions, and have multiple dreams fulfilled…”
The voice on the other side laughed and said, “Just one Dream package per person, it doesn’t work in multiples. If you wish your friends to share in the Dream, they need to sign up for it themselves”.
“OK, ok, I’ll take what you can offer – tell me what to do for this Dream package… I could do with some luck and dreams come true now,” I responded.
“Simple,” came the reply, “just log on to www.MyDreams.com and follow the instructions. By the way, we provide a guarantee that you will be more than satisfied with your Dreams package outcome, so we do not ask for the payment of $1 upfront. When you are fully satisfied with the Dreams outcome, then send us the $1 payment, and whatever additional contribution you would like to add, to help “Make A Dream Come True Corporation” spread the Dreams cheer to others.”
I felt a surge of excitement that I had not had in years, rushed to my old computer and logged on to www.MyDream.com.
“Dynamic graphics. User-friendly too. Impressive” I thought. The professional looking web page gave me the confidence that I could have any dream fulfilled. “Please read the agreement before proceeding,” it said. Hardly able to contain my excitement, I clicked on the “I agree” button, barely reading the tiny prints on my screen.
Instantly popped a page with the words, “Fulfil Your Dream – Form FYD101″. There were multiple choice questions and what seemed like unlimited blank spaces to answer question after question about my dream… I moaned as I stared at the computer, dampened by the number of essay type questions I had to answer.
As though it had read my mind, a smiley face popped up on screen with the words, “Dreams don’t come true by dreaming about it. You’ve got to make it happen.” I took a deep breath, and then plunged in.
The first part was easy -
Name: Wong Mei Fen.
Sex: Female.
Age: 32.
Address: 42 Chua Chu Kang Road.
Country: Singapore.
Zip code: 658923.
Email address: mei@hotmail.com.
Date of birth: 8 October, 1970
Then came the tough questions: Please describe your dream. Failure to complete the following information will delay the processing of orders.
A New Me – I want a new look, ability.
Relationship – I want to correct, change, or mend.
Circumstance – I would like to change.
Things – I would like to have a.
My mind drew a blank. There were so many things I wanted to change. Documenting it on the “diary” of a computer was something I’d never thought I’d ever do. “Goodness knows who’s reading my private journals at the other end,” I thought. But the drive to make a dream come true compelled me to press on.
“A New Me” – yes, a new look would definitely be welcomed. How about looking like Britney Spears for a day? Or, maybe someone closer to my age, like Madonna. She’s got a great looker of a husband too. Or a real sophisticate like Isabella Rosellini, hmm. timeless beauty AND brains.
“A New Ability.” Hmm. a famous musician or performer. Ah, I can just hear the applause and ovations. What about being a top model? That’s quite good too. I’ll have the luxury of not getting out of bed for less than $10,000 a day. Or. a world famous writer… ah yes, a writer. After all, looks and voices wear with age; a good writer, like good wine, gets better.” With a newfound triumph (after all that daydreaming), I boldly declared, “world famous writer.”
I was really into it now. All hyped up, I quickly typed in, “a new (good) man in my life,” under “Relationships.” I made sure I explained – PS: “good” means “new-age, sensitive”. (I thought it might be nice to trade-in my boy friend of five years for a new one – nah. on second thought, an overhauled would be nice. I sort of like this one… a change from boyfriend to husband for a start.)
For “Circumstance” I typed, “Get out of my routine office job and have a more exciting career. Please see my dream under ‘A New Me.’ “
Under the “Things” heading, I wrote, “I would like to have more time to dream and to do the things I dream about.”
I looked my answers over. Good – no mistakes. Satisfied, I clicked the “submit” button. I could hardly sleep that night. It felt good – I had never thought of writing down my dreams before. Early the next morning, even before brushing my teeth or washing my face, I booted my computer, excited to see if I was anywhere closer to having my dreams fulfilled. I logged on to www.MyDream.com, typed in my password, and up popped the familiar smiley face again.
“Dream on,” the smiley face said. The mail read, “Dear member, Thank you for signing up for the ‘Dream A Big Dream’ Package. Please note that dreams take time to fulfil. Members are usually counselled to fulfil them one at a time. (Please read the fine prints.)
Becoming a world famous writer comes at a cost – Please clarify. Do you want to be:
- Barbara Cartland (flamboyant, romance novelist with more than 600 published titles to her name)
- Roald Dahl (beloved children’s writer, black humour adult fiction writer)
- J K Rowling (jobless, single mother who shot to fame writing Harry Potter)
- Jeff Archer (adult thriller writer)
- Other personality/category (please be as specific as possible)
What price would you pay to make your dream come true?
Can you wait another five years before you trade-in or upgrade your boyfriend to husband? Please prioritise your dreams.”
The words were sharp and realistic. I awoke from my dream.
I stared at the monitor and then typed: “Dear Make A Dream Come True Corporation, please find enclosed my cheque for $1000. My dreams have yet to come true. But I get it now. It cost nothing to dream, nothing at all to dream big dreams. But it cost everything to make them come true.”
Happily ever after… somewhat
A down-to-earth version of three fairy tales retold by Angeline Koh
© Angel’s original . Written December 2000
Published in The Sunday New Paper, 4 February 2001
Once upon a time, as every fairy tale has to begin, Sleeping Beauty , Cinderella , Grumpyrella ( Cinderella ’s ugly stepsister), and Mrs. Beast (aka Beauty) now in their mid-forties met at the reunion party. Sleeping Beauty (who isn’t quite the Beauty when she’s asleep) slept through the party (as expected) while the rest told their stories.
The most elated was Cinderella . Recently married, she exclaimed. “Life begins at forty,” flashing her two-carat diamond ring. “I should have listened to fairy God-ma and gone to the ball a long time ago! I never thought life could be this fun!”
“Hey, what about you Sleeping Beauty ? When are you going to get up and find a life?” Cinderella asked as she nudged Sleeping Beauty .
“Zzzzzz.” came the silent reply.
“What life?” griped Grumpyrella (who really isn’t all that ugly but suffered a poor sense of self esteem). Grumpyrella is now the not-quite- Mrs Glass-Slipper Bearer . (I say she is “not-quite” since she is neither actually single nor absolutely married to Bearer – or him to her for that matter.) With her biological clock fast ticking away, she settled for the next best moving thing she could get her hands on, thinking she could never be good enough for any prince. It didn’t occur to her that there really was more than one prince charming around.
“Live with me,” Bearer had persuaded her, it all sounded so romantic – “nobody gets married these day. What difference does a piece of paper make anyway?” (They didn’t call him Slippery for nothing.) All his sweet nothings – they were really sweet nothings. Her best-of-both-worlds arrangements didn’t turn out to be quite the best of both worlds. “Freedom,” if that’s what you want to call it has its price tag. She was never sure if they were in or out of the relationship – she was never sure when he would leave should the next sweet thing for him turn up or when they had another fight.
Reality sunk in – no more Cinderella to wash all her dirty linens – Grumpyrella was neither free to move about like the real singles, nor was she spared the laundry, cooking and cleaning (and she thought she could escape the responsibilities of a married person.) They all felt sorry for her but neither dared say anything.
“Behave yourselves,” Mrs Beast (aka Beauty , now 10 kilos later) broke the awkward silence as she swatted her youngest. He was pulling his sister’s hair, which sent her yelling her head off again. There were days when she discovered how she could really live up to her new name (i.e. Mrs Beast ). After all, one must empathize – what with a mind-of-his-own teenager and two young energizers running around.
Sleeping Beauty in character slept right through the noise.
Cinderella still starry-eyed (but with some wrinkles and eye bags around her eyes) was quite thankful for not having to manage the children. “I’ve done enough of the care giving,” she said as she recalled how she had to do the dishes and the laundry and the marketing and anything else in between for the four grown up children (i.e. her stepmother and three not-really-ugly ugly stepsisters).
” ‘Enough is enough.’ God-ma always said. ‘When are you going to stop playing mummy to them – they should be responsible for their own lives. And you my dear, need to get on with your own life!’ ” Cinderella recollected.
“Well, have you been able to forgive them and let go of the past?” Mrs Beast asked. “I mean, they really didn’t treat you too well.”
“Oh, I’ve stopped blaming Ma and Pa and Grumpyrella and Crumps and Stumps for all my misery. We just have our share of dysfunction (just like every other family we know.)” admitted Cinderella . “I was as much responsible – they continued to let me serve them since I gave them the idea that I was ever so willing and happy being a slave. I really have God-ma to thank. If she ever ran out of magic, she could make quite a good therapist actually!”
“Happily ever after.” They all pondered. There was a moment of silence between them. Sleeping Beauty slept on, Grumpy grumbled and mumbled to herself – no more Cinderella . They all thought deep and hard.
“How’s it like living with Beast anyway?” Grumpyrella broke the silence, hoping to find someone half as miserable as she was.
“As you recall, he turned out to be quite the prince. We’ve had our bad days – but by and large, he is really the sweetest. Since I knew him as the beast, nothing quite surprises me when he gets a little beastly now and then. We all do that sometime – minor flaws to an otherwise really nice person. I couldn’t be happier.”
“Lucky for you Beauty ,” thought Grumpyrella enviously.
“There’s may be a prince in every beast, but there definitely is a beast in every princess!” laughed Beauty .
They laughed at her insight. “He still thinks I’m the greatest.”
“Are you ready honey?” called Prince (Cinderella’s Prince that is) “It’s almost midnight. It’s not like our carriage is going to turn into a pumpkin but we really ought to be going.”
Cinderella grabbed her handbag, flashed her two-carat and hurried off with Prince .
“Good night every one.” She turned and she winked at her friends. You could see from the lilt in her walk how thrilled she was at her catch.
“Till the next reunion everyone. It was fun seeing you all.” Waved Mr & Mrs Beast as the family of five left. “We’ll do it again next year!”
Grumpyrella went home alone.
Sleeping Beauty slept on.
And so they lived happily ever after… somewhat.
