Purple Rain: I'll Sing till I Die.

Chapter 1: The Dreamer

----- Prince Rogers Nelson (R.I.P. 1958 - 2016) - A man who was short in stature but had a big passion for music. But like all stars, he will never tuley die. Since what he has left behind will continue to inspire a new generation of future stars and bring the rest of us joy, good memories and happieness for the rest of eternity.------ 

Before all the glitz and fame of the star that we all know and came to love - Once a  young singer who had a tough start in his life. Stuck in a rough part of a town where some said 'dreams came to die' and gangs and 'good for nothings' ruled the roost. His father, an abusive and vial excuse of a man who to no suprise would drink away the money. His mother, a quite yet vonrable and manipulative type who spent every hour of each day fearing for her life and dreading what would happen to her or her son if she did'nt give in to her 'beloved husband's' demands. But who could this singer be? you may ask, who knew this life all too well? A talented man who one day would take the world by storm, an artist who is simply known as Prince.

Prince was a quite young man, he was very privert and whilst genrally trying to stay of the way of his fatherwould spend most of his time sat in his small, damp, upper floor room all alone. Where he would listen to his cassetts on his boom box. Whilst a quiet instramental number was playing softly in the background he began to imagined what it would be like to sing for real, to stop performing at the club and make his own way up to the ranks. But, the few who knew him, besides his fellow band members saw him as a shy man who liked to keep to himself, they would never of guessed him to be any kind of entertainer.

Looking around his room for a moment, the wallpaper was falling off the walls, only to be covered up by slightly tattered posters of his heros. His bed was broken, a cracked headboard, thin quilt and a hole in the matress made sleep practically non exsitant. Along with a broken mirror on his wardrobe door, disheveled curtians and even thought he kept it very tidy - He knew his father would always find an excuse to barge in an hurl abuse at him for something. He sat on the windowsill, with his legs up to his chest whilst gazing out onto empty streets shrouded by the inky blackness of night. The street lamp outside his window began to flicker as the bulb was on it's last legs.

"Just like the rest of this town, broken with no one givin' a dam" Prince thought to himself as he continued to gaze blankly out this bedroom window.

The sound of dustbins clanging, the distant echo of busy traffic, police sirens and dogs barking filled his ears. Prince was then broken from his trance as the shouting of his parents downstairs got louder, he sat in silence as he leaned over to turned up his boom-box to some extent block out the noise. The fights had been getting worse as of late, they happend almost every night. Prince then remembered 'the last time' He felt a cold chill run up his spine as the memories flooded back all too clearly, as it went down about a year ago, he tried to protect his mother during one of there most infamous fights where his father had his mother cornered up on the landing. Prince had rushed to help but his father had the upper hand, being blinded by rage as well as much stronger than Prince, he pushed Prince out of the way causing him to fall down the stairs and break his wrist. a month in a cast without being able to play his guitar... for some reason this brought a smile to his father's unkempt face.

His head on his knees, trying not to cry at the thought of this, he contunied to listen to his music when all of a sudden, the sound of a heavy slap rang through Prince's ears as the shouting suddenly stopped. Everything went deathly quite and all that could be heard was a melody that would even make doves cry. Prince's head shot up, a look of panic over took his face as quickly turned off his boom box, closed his curtians and leaped up to turn off his bedroom ligth. He then slightly, closed his bedroom door and quietly crept over to his bed and climbed in praying that no one had heard his music, as he layed there in the darkness, waiting for the sound of heavy and angry footsteps to start marching up the stairs - he slowly began to drift off to sleep.