Dragon's Tail

By Charles Posey

Ming Fei, a reluctant hero, is called upon to rescue the family and secure their portion of a crystal blue dragon, which shattered into five pieces. Should he fail, everyone will die and the world will be in peril. But in order to do this, he is going to need the help of the dragon's heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Charles Posey
• Release date: Sep 23, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370052134

Charles Posey

An avid writer of Christian literature, he has taken his talents and applied them to great works of fiction with a moral twist.

Book preview

Dragon’s Tail

By

Charles E. Posey

DEDICATION

To those who helped me when I needed the help the most, helped me to keep the faith and believe in God, I say thank you. You know who you are, so do I. You are in my heart always.

Table of Contents

Chapter One: The Nightmare Begins

Chapter Two: Lydia

Chapter Three: Technology’s A Bitch

Chapter Four: I Think I Need A Vacation

Chapter Five: Maybe He’ll Go Away

Chapter Six: Uncle Dominic?!

Chapter Seven: The Crystal Blue Dragon

Chapter Eight: The Broken Pieces

Chapter Nine: Sir, Are You Alright?

Chapter Ten: And Who are You?

Chapter Eleven: The Bottom’s Up Club

Chapter Twelve: So, Why a Chinese Man?

Chapter Thirteen: Coming to America

Chapter Fourteen: Grillin’ Teoh Style

Chapter Fifteen: Get Off Me!

Chapter Sixteen: I Feel Alive!

Chapter Seventeen: What? What’s the Matter?!

Chapter Eighteen: Are You Crazy!

Chapter Nineteen: My Name is Mr. Winston

Chapter Twenty: Enter the Dragon!

©Copyright 2016 Charles E. Posey – Version 4.0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Chapter One: The Nightmare Begins

Restlessly, she tossed. Anguished almost to the point of pain, she turned. She pitched back and forth, as an agonized grimace spread across her face. Behind those beautiful, Asian eyes of a sleeping young woman was a mind tortured and tormented. Su Wan was plagued by her dreams.

Kicking the variegated comforter to the floor, she stirred.

The room had been outfitted in all the customary amenities for a young woman away at college. There was the matching comforter set with corresponding pillows and shams. The curio cabinet meant to elicit youth and adulthood by incorporating childhood memories with pictures of present friends. As well as the four-cubic-foot refrigerator that sat in the corner and matched nothing in the room, save the small microwave oven that sat atop it. Then there were the usual, but necessary conditions found in most any dorm. The pile of clothing that sat at the foot of the bed. They were due to have been washed over the weekend, but cramming for a final had delayed. Then there was the confusion of open books, notebooks, laptop, and discarded drink cups that cluttered the desktop. Everything was normal. Everything brought about a sense of comfort and security, which should have allowed her to sleep, but on the contrary. They were crowding and suffocating. She continued to struggle with the images in her mind.

Another kick as she twisted unconsciously and even her beloved koala bear found itself on the floor.

It was her dreams that tore at her nights, robbing the rest from her eyes. They had begun at the age of fourteen, pleasant and comforting. Since the age of five, her grandmother had told her of the coming day when they would wash over her like a warm embrace and take her to undiscovered worlds of wonder and surprise. Like a gentle hand that felt safe to hold and comforting to touch, they would allow her to appreciate the beauty of far-flung stars and distant galaxies. Now, at her age of twenty-four, they were bombshells that burst with shock and awfulness. Vivid and intense, they slashed their way into her sleep and cut deep furrows into her thoughts bringing terror to her nights.

Her mother spoke of placid streams of bright shimmering color and pools of effervescing joy—not of pain-laced agony that felt like a thousand needle sticks from a size 18 needle. Nothing she had heard, nothing she had envisioned could have prepared her for these sleepless nights.

Turning, she moaned.

A brilliant crystal blue dragon, with bright glowing eyes and golden horns formed a crown about his head, filled her nightmares. He stood regal and majestic in a ring of iron with four gold posts at the corners. He struggled against two great foes who sought to destroy him. The first was a great bird of fire, who struck from above breathing out flames. The second was a great green snake with black stripes and irregular markings, who struck from below, wrapping his legs in coils. Mightily the dragon roared and spewed out a bright red flame that caught the bird in a wave of fire. Stomping savagely, he tried to free himself from the coils that held him tight. Impervious to the fire, the bird struck again with a torrent of fire that drove the hapless dragon deeper into the coils of the snake. Struggling, he bellowed to be free. With each attempt, the snake looped another coil around him. With every breath, the noose around him grew tighter until he staggered and fell, brought down by the weight of both attacks.

Su Wan woke violently with her heart racing, her mind agitated and confused. She sprang to her feet in a frantic dash for the door. There she came to herself. Like all the nights before, she was safe behind a locked door. Turning on the light, she looked about the room to make certain everything was okay. There on the floor was her security guard since birth, her one-eyed koala. Picking it up, she sat down on the bed and with her head pounding, tried to catch her breath.

What’s with me and these dreams? she thought aloud.

Suddenly the cool of the night caught up with her as her sweat-drenched silk pajamas, her grandmother had given her, brought a chill to her body. She moved to pull the comforter off the floor as she considered her dilemma. She needed sleep, but she feared it. She wanted answers, but didn’t know where to find them. Pressing her palms to her eyes, fear again flushed over her as she thought of another sleepless night.

While agony occupied this small campus dorm room, bliss filled the room of another house several hundred miles away. Brightly lit and pleasant, this room was white, all white except for scattered paintings about the room, and furnishings. Against a far wall was a light pine German-made schrank filled with assorted antiques from around the world. Over against a wall of sliding doors was a large cherry desk with gold trim. It was skewed to the corner of the room with a large white leather office chair behind it. There above the desk was a portrait of a phoenix with bright yellow, red, and green tail feathers. Just in front of it and forming an office out of the space was a large white leather sofa with glass end tables and golden lamps positioned on either end. They belonged to a man by the name of Mr. Winston, Gabriel Winston.

A middle-aged antique dealer, he made his fortune selling collectibles to those who could afford them and weren’t afraid to pay any price—without question. His fortune was counted in billions with millions reserved for pocket change. He was expected at every major hotel when he was in town and accepted in every country without a passport or visa, because no one dared to deny Mr. Winston. Presidents and kings arranged to see him while ambassadors, senators, and judges waited on his final decision for major projects and public works. He was no mere moral. He was Mr. Winston.

Walking across his thick white shag carpet, he entered the room wearing a white silk pajama set with a double-breasted top that had golden ropes as buttons and a golden trim that bordered the collar. In his hand was a goblet of 1975 Chateau Mouton Rothschild he set on the corner of the desk with his attention given to a hand tooled gold case containing a black cellphone. Taking a seat, he dialed with the glint of his heavy gold signet ring flashing against its face.

In a sparsely lit Japanese bathhouse, a phone rang. Six smoky-glass wall sconces, spaced appropriately for the dungeon-like appearance, shed just enough light in the room to drive the darkness into shadows.

The phone rang again as splashing was heard in the pool. There lying on a towel on a wooden chair, it flashed. A hand reached out of the pool to collect it.

Hello? Came a voice soft and gentle from a woman drawing herself to the side of the pool.

I’ve sent you all you need to complete this next acquisition. Mr. Winston began. If you should need anything else, I have made arrangements with your former employer Mr. Matsui to support you.

Yes, Mr. Winston.

Try not to make too much of a mess of things with this one. He is well connected and we don’t want any undue attention – not at this late date.

No, Mr. Winston.

Too much attention might spoil our future. Don’t you think?

Yes, Mr. Winston.

Then I should see you – in what, a few weeks?

Yes, Mr. Winston.

Again, Mr. Matsui is there if you need him. Until then.

Hanging up, he returns the phone to the desk and grabs the goblet. He savors the aroma before taking a sip. Running a finger along the rim, he relishes the thought of completing yet another acquisition toward his ultimate goal, envisioned since his spiritual awakening. It has been such a long time, such a long time in the making, but now it was just hours away. The final phase of the plan had taken shape. The players were on the field, but the game was over even before they knew it had begun. His devilish smile could hardly contain his enthusiasm.

Hanging up her phone, this youthful Japanese beauty headed for another lap of the pool as she tossed the phone back on the towel.

Her name is Lydia. For eight years, she had been in the exclusive employ of Mr. Winston. While he managed the day-to-day operation of the business and concentrated on sales, her duties lay in acquisitions. Where there were always buyers, often there were few sellers. Her job was to utilize her varied skills at acquiring particular items in any way necessary.

As she reached the opposite end, the water rippled and sparkled in the low light as she swam. Returning, an undulating wave formed behind her, seemingly propelling her through the water. Satisfied with her bath, she smiled. Exiting the pool, the faint light glistened off her nude body as she wrapped herself in the towel, grabbed the phone, and walked serenely to the dressing room.

Chapter Two: Lydia

Clinging to the fingers of her mother, Lydia walked down the hall to a central room in the house. She was four, nervous, but unafraid. For the last few hours there has been shouting, banging on the walls, cries, and pleadings. But this was normal for her. Her father was a minor boss for the local Yakuza and this type of commotion was common. What was uncommon was the worried look on her mother’s face.

Entering the room at the end of the hall, a place she was forbidden to enter, she found a rather scant décor. Bamboo mats covered the floor. At one end of the room was a wooden desk with a group of unfamiliar men in various stages of undress. Some were stripped to the waist showing their body art in tattoos. Others had their shirts opened only revealing the tattoos that ran down their arms, and only one large man stood in front of the desk in an open suit with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a bamboo staff. She immediately perceived him as the leader and looked away. At the opposite end of the room were gathered all the men and women in her father’s employ. They stood quiet with their heads bowed.

In the center of the room were three men, two holding up the third. Each stripped to the waist. The man they were holding up was badly beaten with blood covering his body. He was on his knees or else appeared to be, as the two men struggled to lift him up. His breathing was labored with blood forming small bubbles that flowed from his nose. With his head lying to one side, he appeared unconscious, as his eyes were swollen shut.

Her mother said nothing, but wept softly as they crossed the room to join the other women. It was then Lydia noticed the familiar smile of an old friend that was etched on her father’s back. She knew immediately the man in the middle was her father. Assuming a position behind her mother with one eye on the proceedings, she made no sound nor shed a tear, but watched carefully.

Well, Nori – everyone is here. What do you say? the leader demanded, swinging the bamboo staff as if readying another strike.

The response was incoherent at best or nonexistent. Only the small bubbles of blood could be seen moving along his mouth.

NORI! Here is your opportunity – say something! Anything! the leader shouted, beckoning to those behind him for a gun as he changed hands with the staff.

A gun was cocked and quickly passed to the leader and he approached the dying man with gun in hand.

As common as the beatings would be, it was also common that a shot would be heard ending the commotion. Even at four, Lydia was used to it although this was the first time she had witnessed it. Peering from behind her mother, she waited for the inevitable shot.

As the leader approached, Lydia’s mother broke all conventional custom and dashed to her husband’s defense in an attempt to save his life. But the gun was already drawn and the trigger pulled. Her mother fell dead at his feet. Annoyed by the turn of events, the leader then shot her father multiple times and he too fell dead draped over her body.

It is amazing how life can be; one moment you can be a happy child with loving parents, a home, servants, and friends and in the next, be an orphan with nothing. The moment was surreal, and Lydia stood without a word, gazing on her lost childhood.

Hours later as she lay asleep in her bed, a stranger came into her life. He was known as Uncle, her mother’s brother. Collecting many of her things as quickly as he could, he took Lydia from all she knew and sped