Mysteries Of The Liffey River

   Mythology, mystery, and magic deep, what riddles do they keep? These three words call into question what you know, what is reality. Let’s be honest, anyone who thinks they have experienced everything this world has to offer, is deceiving themselves, they are well and truly naive. One man alone cannot claim to have touched the deepest parts of the ocean floor, or visited the very top of the sky. Nor can they claim, to have traveled every square inch of the earth, and turned over every rock and stone, to see what lay beneath.

   It was 1901. Young Callum Lynch was excited; he skipped and let out a joyful “Whoop”. After weeks of persistently asking to be taken fishing, his father finally relented at last. Skies were calm and clear. The Liffey was as smooth as ice, not one ripple on the surface. Seagulls flew overhead, squawking. Street vendors peddled their goods. Horse’s hooves clopped gently on the cobbles, as they pulled wagons behind them. It was a fine day, filled with hustle and bustle.

   As father and son approached the banks of the Liffey, Callum ran ahead, picking up stones, attempting to skip them on the clear water. His father called, “Now Son, you don’t want to be doing that, you’ll chase off all the good fish. Come here then, and help me get these poles ready, there’s a good lad.”

  “Do you think we will catch anything big?” asked Callum excited, as he ran back to where his father stood, putting bait and tackle on the fishing poles. “I want to catch a shark,” he announced bravely, sticking out his chest.

  “Well now,” said his father, smiling down at him “That remains to be seen. A shark you say?” he asked Callum. “There are more things in heaven and earth,” he said winking.

   Callum’s father spent half an hour teaching him how to cast his line, and then reel it back in. A gentle breeze made its way up the Liffey, gently tossing Callum’s hair. “This is nice, “thought Callum. He greatly admired his Da; he was the bravest, strongest person he knew. Callum felt certain, that if his Da were to fight a lion, that his Da would win.

   There came a sharp tug on Callum’s line. “I got one, I got one!” he yelled jumping excitedly. Looking out at where his line was located, something large shifted, just below the water. “It’s a shark, it’s a shark,” Callum cried madly as he tried to yank his line in. His father reached out and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder, in an attempt to quiet him down.

“Be still,” said his father in a low voice, pointing out at the water.

   What Callum saw, stayed with him until the day he died. It came out of the water slowly, they saw the top of the head first. It had a mop of stringy black hair, just below were two piercing grey blue eyes, as slash for where the mouth should’ve been. On the side of its head were gills. A webbed hand reached out of the water, grasping desperately, trying to loosen the hook that had gotten stuck in one of its gills. Its skin was covered in grey scales that shimmered in the light .

“Whoa,” shouted Callum.

  The creature looked up sharply. With a flash, it darted back under the surface. The fishing line pulled taught and Callum let out a yelp. He came mere inches from almost falling face first into the water. At the last moment, his father just was able to reach out and grab him by the suspenders. Callum turned to looked at his father. He was as white as a sheet.

“Da,” Callum asked timidly “What was that?

His father didn’t reply

“Da,” Callum said more insistently “What was that?”

“I don’t know son,” said his father weakly.

   That was the last and only time, Callum’s Da had discussed what had happened. That day was thrust into the annals of family lore, never to be spoken of again. It was as if they believed by avoiding the topic all together, they could make what they saw vanish from their memories.