Master – 4.2

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Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

She’s hidden beneath the covers, and I know she hates being woken up. The only exception is Christmas morning. Then again, she’s wide awake every Christmas morning.

I peel back the cover just enough to see she’s facing away from me. I rest my hand on her brown hair, and she doesn’t move.

“I know you’re sleeping right now, Brussels-sprouts. I just wanted you to know-” I pause.

I lived a very lonely life. That’s what people don’t get about me; that’s what they miss. Until you’ve gone without love, you have no idea how powerful it can be when it finds you. It’s not just a saying, and it sure as hell isn’t something I tell myself to feel better about giving up football. I don’t mean to get sappy, but as I stand here at my daughter’s bedside, knowing a short hallway away rests a beautiful woman who loves Phil Gordon the pool guy, I can’t help but thank God for all the life I have, and forget to give two shits about the one I gave up.

“I love you, Brussels sprouts.”

She turns over, and I finally see her face. Avery puts her hand in mine, then rubs her eye open.

“What time is it, daddy?”

I smirk. “Too early for you.”

She giggles.

I kiss her on the forehead, then get up.

“Wait!”

“What is it?”

“Come over here!”

I sigh, then do.

“Pinky.”

I grin, then hold out the finger. She locks her tiny pinky around mine.

“Say it, daddy.”

“You sure? Figured you’re too grown-up for that.”

“Say it!”

I smile. “Daddy cauliflower always returns for princess Brussels Sprouts.”

“Yay!” says Avery, kicking her legs and feet. I can’t help but laugh along with her – she hates vegetables.

I proceed to the kitchen, scoop out some Columbian roast, toss it in the filter, then add about four cups worth of water and turn the coffee pot on. I wait with my hands on the counter and my head dangling over my chest.

It was a dream, I remind myself. Nothing but a dream.

Still, ‘Master’ seemed so real. The entire scene did. Some dreams are so ludicrous you realize you’re dreaming while you’re in the middle of them. Other dreams fool you a little more, but as soon as you return to consciousness you realize you’d been tricked.

The coffee finishes brewing, and I pour myself a cup.

But then there are those other dreams, when long after waking, you are still convinced that you were in the presence of another being. Maybe not physically, but maybe metaphysically. The universe is a strange place.

“Are you trying to freak me out?”

It’s Loretta – she’s standing in the doorway, glaring at me.

“Yes, just the dream. Don’t worry-”

“You don’t spook easily, Phillip.”

“I know.”

“So why do you look so disturbed, baby?”

I think for a moment, and some primitive part of me urges me to warn her about Master. I almost want to stay here, just to watch over my family and make certain everything remains alright.

“Like you said, it was just a dream.” I hand her the mug. “Here, I don’t even want this. Have a good day, babe.” I kiss her and head for the front door.

“So why are you so upset?”

“Just being paranoid, like you said.”

“Love you, Phillip,” she says as I leave.

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  • Thomas M. Watt

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sketchy

Control, guilt, manipulation.

These are the ways heroes fade to grey and become much less than a zero.

The truths we perceive, the things we believe, the ideas we have held as our own –

What can be done for unfortunate ones who are raised to be nothing or something?

And what can be said of the kids who are fed their thoughts from a dream that’s misleading?

Strife isn’t nice when it comes at a price, when success determines one’s meaning.

I’ll say it again for those under ten – your life is your own, respect yours alone, for the takers are always receiving.

– Thomas M. Watt

‘W’r’i’t’e’r’s’ M’a’d’n’e’s’s’

Flowing grey, colors gloom, 

Days to nights the hours zoom.

Sitting working writing lots.

Smelling words, sniffing jots.

Tired? Never. Restless? Yes sir.

Can’t put down the dream today I don’t think this dream will go away.

Got no reason for my belief except to say I’ve grown the seed.

What can be said about passion like this – a longing a turning an obsessive fit?

Oh not too much, except what they say – a passionate man can be so unsafe.

That living obsession and fuming too much and striving too hard and churning and such,

Can lead to madness, all scrambled thoughts. Can leave you with nothing but the knowledge you’ve lost.

But oh what to do! I cry but a tear! For it’s not my fault I’m a writer, those words brought me here!

– Thomas M. Watt

The Child Dances

Image

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Skies are hazy trees are stumps dog’s are lazy watch for skunks.

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Stars are shining in your eyes and since I found them they ‘re in mine now.

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Lightning crashes to the ground thunder scares more with its sound.

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Sea is riddled with the sharks, but fish still take up most of most parts.

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Fading jacket – tearing sleeves – a whooping cough signals disease.

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Laughing child looking kind can you withstand the test of time? Keep your smile from frown’s fade, learn the times to misbehave?

Bump Bump Bump Bump

Hear the music sing it loud, watch the sun then jump around. Don’t lose hope just from your pain, don’t be sad when glory fades. Don’t rank yourself with other heads, don’t rest assured that you’re the best. Keep that chin up, child do, keep on walking when they judge you. Keep it going sole to pavement, keep that strut like you’re elated. Don’t get lost or tired or sick, don’t get down or up and quit. Keep on going, child do, keep on dancing this song’s for you.

Bump Bump Bump Bump.

– Thomas M. Watt

A Family

Marriage isn’t easy, and it surely hardly shines,

Marriage must be tricky, to say it’s always fine.

What is the point of simplicity, when famous characters rule,

What good is integrity, when obnoxiousness is cool.

What’s the point of trying, when the money is all gone.

What’s the point of going, when the tests come all the time.

Why go on in knowing, your’s is never quite the best,

What good is the showing, when you’re nothing like the rest.

The work is hard and lasting, and developing is strange,

The labor is persisting, that never seems to change.

But when your time is through, and its time to finish the ride,

How beautiful your life looks, when you kept your eyes in line.

For from the children come hope, and from the children come love,

and from the children come another, family for the thick of time.

And then come some more children, who think grand dad’s the best,

And then come easy smiles, and bad times remembered less.

For when you have a marriage, and when you have some kids,

Humanity keeps on growing, because of all the work you did.

So one day when the day comes, surely it is true,

The generations keep on knowing, they live because of you.