Review: The Beautiful Ones, by Prince & Dan Piepenbring

The Beautiful Ones by Prince
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Wonderful! I was overjoyed when a friend sent me this for my birthday. And I had tears in my eyes when I opened the book to see Prince's handwriting inside.

Many argue that this isn't how he would have wanted it, but I think at this stage it's the best we can except and the closest we as fans (or friends as he preferred to call us) will come to knowing what was on his mind before he died, and get to taste of the memoir he had begun writing just months before he died. It made me wonder if the urgency to start sharing his memoir and all the other books he had planned was because he felt the clock ticking.

There is a bit of filler in this book, mostly photos and handwritten lyrics of some of his more famous songs - even an old copy of a passport. But for the lifelong devoted fans, like myself, it felt like - just for a moment - he was still here.

This is a book I will treasure, if only so I can open it and see his handwriting.

View all my reviews

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 134

This week's photo prompt is of a sculpture made by Mirek Struzik a polish artist. Inspired by Dandelions in nature. This picture is from the exhibit in Wroclaw, Poland. This photo was taken by the artists. Has created some incredible things, his website is worth checking out. (click on his name).

I had the opening line to this one days before I wrote it, which sometimes happens, but I've had such a busy time of it, I haven't had a chance to get it down. A bit last night and finishing touches today. I wondered if it was going to go darker, but it didn't. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

The Song of the Dandelions

He watched her looking up at them in awe. The moonlight made them sparkle and vibrate with the glow that bounced off them. Giant metal Dandelions, who would have thought such a thing would mesmerise a girl so much. She had no idea he was there, on the other side of the street, staring at her. She was lost in her fascination. And in some ways he was lost in his.

He admired her agile body as it stood mid-stride, poised as though on pause as the sculptured flowers caught her attention. He imagined it in other poses, ones that made it uncomfortable for him to remain standing in his current position for much longer.

A ripple through the fronds of the imposing seed heads brought an eerie high-pitched sound, like the ghost of a violin. It spooked her and she started moving, glancing across the street at him and registering his existence, including his cool appraisal of her. It provoked a worried expression, and after one more peek over her shoulder at the fake blooms, she rushed off.

He debated following her, but knew that no matter what was in his mind, it would never cross hers, in fact after the look she’d given him it would scare her.

The sound again from the glistening flowers brought his gaze back to them. They were a marvel and a delight, even if only for being a girl magnet as he watched another approach from the train station, fresh faced and eager to see what had emitted the sound.

This one he might dare to approach, the whisper of the flower effigies lulling him into the idea as it entranced him and the new girl. He drifted across the road and struck up a conversation about what they were viewing. She responded with a smile and they’re conversation continued as they walked away. He hoped to a pub for a drink and then after ... who knew.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 133

This painting was done by William Michael Harnett, an Irish/American painter in 1877 and is titled:  'Still Life Writing Table.' It's owned by the Philadelphia Museum of Art. 

As a writer it appealed to me, and I tried to do something different with it. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Dystopia

Dear Georgie,

Hello. Yes, I’m still here, it’s just my hands aren’t doing as well as they were and that’s difficult now with us all being reduced to handwritten letters. I’d never imagined we would go back to using ink and feathers, like in medieval times, and my hands are struggling with it at my age. Who ever thought we could run out of biros, and pencils? Looking back we had such strange ideas of what dystopia would be like, always viewing it from the idea of wars, and violence, and anarchy, only missing food or power. We totally overlooked the simple things, like pens or pencils, or certain sanitary products.

I miss transport. Yes, we have horses, but the idea of having to stay within the country or even county and never being about to go overseas on holiday again is a strange one. I know I should be used to it by now, several decades on, but I’m not.

What happened to the idea we could put it all back together and carry on? Why aren’t we able to? I can see the youth already not caring or being interested in what we had before. They make it out to be such an evil time, full of evil products that damaged the earth, but they have no idea the convenience they would bring, especially simple things like pens. But then there is the whole push back against learning and education and being literate, it’s worrying. It’s like an uprise of a whole new religion and I thought we were finally done with all that, silly beliefs based around some kind of Chinese whispers. Do you remember those, Georgie? We used to play them all the time when we were young.

The only thing the youth have achieved since the Final Days is eradicate power and corruption. Finally gone are all those god awful politicians and wars, and people trying to control other people – and of course the thing that drove them all – money. Community has become key. I love that. I never imagined that would ever happen. It’s like something out of Star Trek – do you remember that show? Gosh I miss television sometimes, and even the concept of travel into space has also been eradicated, none of them are interested in that anymore. Madison said to me the other day, when he came over with his family, ‘Dad, we’re not interested in that anymore, we’re only interested in loving and thriving and being here for each other. That’s what the world’s about now, and a good thing too.’

I have to say, Georgie, I couldn’t argue with that one. It’s like the dream that was endlessly proffered to us all, of world peace, has arrived. Yes, it’s not quite as we imagined, with the last of humanity living in small clusters with only the basics, but I don’t miss the noise of the world at all. And it got so much worse after with the advent of the Internet and mobile phones, and then that awful creation, social media. I sometimes wonder how different it would have been if no one had ever developed that. The world population might still be here, and we’d still have so many luxury items – even pens! And I wouldn’t be handwriting this to you with this scratchy piece of bird feather. I’d be typing instead – gosh how I miss the simplicity of pressing keys to get something.

And on that note, I’ll sign off. My hands get so tired these days. I can’t do the ten or eleven page missives I used to.

I’ll definitely make a trip to you next month, hopefully this will reach you by before then.

Take care until then.

Love Mastin xx

All Author Book Cover Contest

My book cover has made it through to the second round of
the All Author's book cover contest! 😀

But now I need votes! 

I need to get into the top 50 and stay there until next Thursday, the 14th of November, 
to be in with a chance of going through to the next round. 

So if you like the cover of my book, Sleep, please vote for it!

Click to Vote!

You don't have to register to vote. 
NB. If you voted in the first round, you are allowed to vote again.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 132

This week's photo prompt was taken by Markus Lang. He calls this one simply Autumn. 

And this is another story that Tricky has decided to own. I am at the mercy of this character at the moment. Although I am building a nice portfolio and a bit of background on her.

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Hidden Power

It was only a little leaf, barely conspicuous there on the ground, but it was yellow, and Tricky knew what that meant. She stopped and looked about her. The trees had eyes, she’d never doubted that.

She had to have it; its value was more than most people knew, and those that did know wouldn’t be careless enough to leave it here, which is why she couldn’t. She dropped her carpet bag down beside it, making out it was heavy and she needed a rest. She bent over it, shuffling and muttering, making out everything was an effort. She looked old and feeble and that was a benefit in these suspicious times. As she scooped it back up again, she included the leaf. She could feel it warm in her hand. It was ready for use.

She skipped off down the road, trying hard to keep her eyes front; nothing more obvious than someone looking over their shoulder while scurrying away. When she reached her dwelling, safe out on the lake, she dared to open her hand and catch an eyeful of what she had collected.

It was perfect; its edges a little ragged from drifting across the road, but the yellow was pure, and full of magical goodness.

She took it over to her table where all the implements of her craft were laid out. If she followed the instructions correctly she could end up with an entire vial, which would keep her going for several years. Her eyes gleamed in the light of her hastily created hearth fire. Imagine being able to entrance others for that long. The power it would bring her!

But she chastised those grandiose ideas. Power would bring attention, potentially of the wrong sort. She had to be careful. She had to be wily. She had to be tricky. She cackled to herself; she was so funny!

She set to making her potion, daydreaming about the plans she had: the control she would exert and the revenge she would exact. It was long overdue. Those in charge were complacent and fat, reaping rewards they hadn’t earnt. Not that she was some kind of warrior of justice, oh no, she cackled again, this was for her – all for her, it just might be what they deserved too.

She stirred the pot and the golden glow increased until it lit up the inside of her cabin. Oh it was so pretty, so pretty – as she soon would be. 

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 131

This week's photo prompt was taken by American photographer Phil Koch He has some incredible photographs and they are also available to buy on his site (click on his name) and you can also check out more at his page on 500px. 

I wanted something different, but in the end I went with an old idea I'd had years ago. 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Arctic Ark

We had finally arrived at the water. It had been a hard slog across a frozen desert on snowmobiles, and then pushing them through a scrub forest, but we were here at last; there was hope.

There was still snow on the beach but it wouldn’t last long. It didn’t matter how high up we travelled, anymore there was no escaping it.  But there was still time, enough time to build a boat – at least we hoped there would be.

We’d look at the trees as we had come through the scrub. It wasn’t going to be easy, but there was enough here.

I sat on the shore looking at the view with Jake Hanson.

‘It’s red, even this far up.’

‘You knew it would be.’

‘I hoped it wouldn’t be. I’d thought we’d still have some blue sky days.’

‘I think they’re gone from the earth for now.’

Rob Peterson came over and joined us. He had an armful of driftwood with him which he arranged in a pyramid.

Hanson looked around. ‘Where are the others?’

 ‘They’re getting started on some shelters. And Amy and Marcus have gone off to mark some trees ready for felling tomorrow.’

‘Okay. I think Kani brought the tools on his sled, didn’t he?’

‘Yep.’ Rob started fanning the spark he had made.’

I stared at the little flame. ‘It’s crazy, isn’t it? It’s what’s killing us but we can’t live without it.’

‘The irony of life.’ Jake pulled me closer into him and wrapped an arm round me.

We heard barking and saw Kani coming over the ridge between forest and beach, his arms full of equipment, the huskies dancing round his legs. Hanson got up to go help him. I waited for them to arrive before receiving doggy kisses as they barrelled into me, their tails almost catching light in the beachside fire. It was one of the few pleasures left.

He looked the sky over the water. ‘Magnificent and eerie. I’ve never seen anything like it up here.’

‘No one has. When was the last time this water flowed?’ Rob pointed at the ocean in front of us.

‘I’ve never seen it flow. When it cracked open last month there was no one in the village who had ever seen it thaw. It’s crazy.’

‘I wish you’d managed to persuade them to join us, they would have been invaluable.’

Kani looked sombre. ‘Me too. But they don’t believe it is the end, they think it is a new beginning.’

I shivered. It was a new beginning of sorts; the fires would cleanse the earth. Taking to water was the only way to survive, and our little band of engineers would hopefully build something sturdy to endure and wait for them to burn out. We had all brought skills. Mine was navigation. I could get us anywhere with my eidetic memory for maps. The trick was keeping healthy and fed. If we managed that we just might make it.

Mid-Week Flash Challenge - Week 130

This week's photo was taken by Michael Wombat, a writer friend on Twitter. It is Hawick Town Hall. I thought it looked very moody and was worth writing about. 

Okay, so this story ran away with itself, and actually turned into 1500 - and wasn't all done, so I might have to return to it. I saved it at that length and cut what I could, but it's come out at 950 words, so for this week all of you can have up 950 words too! 

The General Guidelines can be found here.

How to create a clickable link in Blogger comments can be found on lasts week's post here.

There is also a Facebook group for Mid-Week Flash, if you fancy getting the prompt there.

Recognition 

They crossed the street to the town hall and went round the back of the building. The moon was high and the night was crisp so they didn’t have a problem seeing where they were going. When they reach the side door Russell revealed a key he’d got from a mate that worked there.

They snuck inside, Marina took the opportunity to link her arm through his and grasped it with both hands. He quite liked that – and not just as an excuse to be close, it felt comforting in the eerie darkness.

They didn’t speak as they made their way into the building. Russell had been here plenty of times, so he easily found the stairs to the clock tower where the reports of ghost sightings had been. He was excited to see if they were true.

The thick carpet underfoot helped them move silently as they ascended, but by the time they reached the top they were out of breath.

They stood on the landing catching their breath, looking round at the three doors that faced them, one glass where the clock was housed. They could see the back of the clock inside.

‘Where to now?’ asked Marina.

‘I’m not sure.’ Russell’s warm breath left plumes in the air.

‘I didn’t think it was that cold in here,’ observed Marina noticing.

‘It shouldn’t be.’

Marina started to shiver. ‘Is it getting colder?’

Russell’s eyes lit up. ‘A sudden drop in temperature normally precedes a paranormal event. This could be it!’

Marina returned the look of excitement, and they waited. The only sound was the clock ticking away the hour. Then they heard footsteps. Marina moved closer to Russell, and he took her hand, pulling her into his side, his eyes glued to the clock room door where they came from.  

They grew louder and the handle on the glass door moved, yet no one could be seen on the other side.

Russell felt a mixture of curiosity and fear as it swung open. The footsteps stopped when they reached the carpet so he had no idea if whatever had opened it was still there.

Then the handle on the door to their right moved. He could feel Marina clutching his arm and waist. It opened and closed. No sounds, no footsteps – there was carpet in that room too.

They continued to wait, but nothing happened. Russell felt Marina’s hands relax. He went over to the door on the right, to look inside, but it wouldn’t open. It was locked.

‘What the ...?’ he whispered.

He glanced at Marina. She’d seen it too and looked at him wide-eyed.

‘That’s insane.’

‘I think we should get out of here.’

‘It might come back.’

‘I don’t want to be here when it does, Russell.’

He looked at her. She was shaking, although the freezing air had past. Then they heard footsteps at the bottom of the stairwell.

‘Shit! Someone’s here!’ he whispered.

Despite the carpet, they could hear someone climbing, and the shuffle of cloth against the wall. Then a glow appeared.

‘We need to hide,’ he hissed. He knew one door was locked, but were the others? He was relieved to find the glass door open, and pulled Marina through, gently shutting it behind them.

They pressed themselves up against the wall to one side of the door, hoping they wouldn’t be seen if someone looked in.

The landing filled with light as the person reached the top. Russell wanted to peek but daren’t, and held his breath as light filled the room. They were moving toward the clock room.

The handle turned, and he could see his own breath as well as Marina’s. The temperature had dropped again and he realised this might not be a living person.

It opened and they stepped in. Russell had assumed the light had come from a torch, but it hadn’t; the ethereal being emitted it. Dressed in some kind of uniform, not quite military, when it turned from closing the door, Marina gasped.

‘Dad?’ she whispered.

The apparition turned and upon seeing her, smiled. It shook its head.

‘Nay child, great grandfather I believe – you’re Geoffrey’s daughter, yes?’ Its deep voice resonated through the room.  

She nodded. Russell could see tears sparkling in her eyes.

‘Yes, is he here?’

It gave a sad shake of the head. ‘Nay, he has passed over beyond the light.’

She frowned slightly. ‘Why haven’t you?’

‘My work here is not done; I must wind the clock.’

‘But there’s someone else doing that now; it’s not your responsibility.’

‘I must, otherwise she will be late and doom will fall.’

Its face dropped and it turned away continuing its walk to the clock, but vanished as it reached it.

The two of them stood in stunned silence. Then they looked at each other.

‘Do you know what he was talking about?’ Marina asked.

‘No.’ Russell was bewildered by his words.

‘I need to know. I need to find out. Maybe it will release him.’

‘Maybe.’

Marina shuddered. ‘Can we go now? I don’t think I can handle any more.’

‘Me either.’

They left the room and descended in silence, sneaking out the way they’d come in.

Out on the street, Russell grabbed her hand. ‘Are you okay? Do you want to come back to mine for a cuppa before you go home?’

Marina had seemed distant on the way out, but now she came back to herself.

‘I’d love to.’

‘Great, and you can tell me about your dad and who that guy was.’

‘I’m not sure I know. I think I’ll need to do a trip to the library tomorrow.’

‘I’ll come with you.’

She squeezed his hand and they walked off down the street, still trying to process what they’d just witnessed.