Wishing on Dreams
Seven perfect spheres glinted in the sunlight. White stars blazed
against an orange backdrop. Nestled in a swath of homespun cloth,
they awaited the eager will of their possessor.
These were the Dragon Balls.
Such strange irony, that the power of the universe, the power to
grant life, wealth or immortality, could be couched in the
fragileness of crystal. A strong enough ki blast could reduce
them to dust.
But the owner of the Dragon Balls had no such desire to destroy
them. Instead, he stood ready to call on their might. Arms
outstretched and voice clear he invoked the Great Dragon.
"Come, Ryong. Here my call and grant my wish!"
The words echoed off the walls of the room. The sunlight
continued to stream through the window.
He tried again. Stretching his arms even farther and saying very
loudly, "Come, Ryong. Hear my call and grant my wish!"
A beetle landed on the windowsill. It scurried about a moment,
then flew back outside.
A third call was recited, "Come, Ryong. Hear my call and grant my
wish..."
The voice quivered at the end, trailing to a whisper. A short
figure stepped from the shadows into the circle of light.
He reached down to pick one of the Dragon Balls up. Or rather, he
tried to. His short, chubby arms barely went halfway round the
sphere. Small fingers clutched at the smooth surface. But the
reluctant object stayed right where it was.
With a soft grunt, he fell back on his rear. A tear ran down his
green cheek. He lowered his eyes despondently and caught sight of
brilliant orange streaked with white. His head snapped up, eyes
wide. The Dragon Ball he had attempted to lift was missing a few
stars.
A sob, followed by a wail, filled the tiny room. Tears flowed as
reality came washing back. His distress was so great, he did not
hear the opening of the door behind him.
"Katatsu, what are you doing in here?" a kind voice inquired.
Strong arms wound around the wisher's body and he was lifted into
the embrace of a tall Elder. His young head cradled against the
old one's shoulder, he merely sobbed one word in reply:
"...father..."
The Elder took in the "Dragon Balls" that lay upon the floor.
Nothing more than smooth rocks decorated with paint, one a little
smudged. He hugged the crying child more closely. Someday, he
thought to Katatsu, the pain won't be so bad. And you will
realize you don't need the Dragon Balls to see your father.
Katatsu quieted down, hiccupping once or twice. The Elder kept
him in his arms and walked out of the room. The door closed, the
child's Dragon Balls forgotten.
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