Title: A Face without a Heart

Author: Rick R. Reed

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: June 1, 2020

Length: 56700

Genre: Paranormal Horror, LGBTQIA+, photographer, drag queen, dancer, addiction, drug use, dark, suspense

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Synopsis

A modern-day and thought-provoking retelling of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray that esteemed horror magazine Fangoria called “…a book that is brutally honest with its reader and doesn’t flinch in the areas where Wilde had to look away…. A rarity: a really well-done update that’s as good as its source material.”

A beautiful young man bargains his soul away to remain young and handsome forever, while his holographic portrait mirrors his aging and decay and reflects every sin and each nightmarish step deeper into depravity… even cold-blooded murder. Prepare yourself for a compelling tour of the darkest sides of greed, lust, addiction, and violence.

It’s no secret that my novel, A FACE WITHOUT A HEART, is a modern-day riff on Oscar Wilde’s THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY. I wanted to bring the story into the 21st century for a couple of reasons. One, to explore the idea that we’ve become even more obsessed with youth and beauty than when Wilde wrote his classic. And two, due to the times Wilde wrote in, I wasn’t sure he could explore graphic sex and violence as readily as I could. Now, this wasn’t gratuitous. The story is about a man who makes a deal with the devil, exchanging his youthful beauty and vitality in exchange for his soul. As he ages, his moral compass, his compassion, his ethics also degenerate as he sinks into total debauchery. 

 

In the original book, the thing that reflects the main character’s sinking into these depths, along with the effects of aging, is a painting. In my version, it’s a hologram.

 

The following excerpt captures the moment when the hologram is unveiled and we see how much our main character wants to keep the beauty of his holographic portrait forever. At any cost…

 

I open my eyes, and for a moment, everything seems unreal. It’s a dream. That’s all. A dream. I had, of course, seen myself on video. Who hasn’t? But this was different. This, this… piece has an otherworld quality, something so strange and magnificent that my eyes well with tears. There I am… captured forever in a faint pinkish glow. I had posed naked for Liam, knowing he was attracted by my body but that his real passion lay in his work.

 

And now it shows. I bite my lip, a strangled sob in my throat. Am I really that beautiful? Oh God, that sounds so vain! But you have to understand. What Liam has done seems too good to be true. He has taken everything good about me and elevated it somehow. That has to be it, of course. My image stands in the middle of the glass dome, as if I’m trapped inside and staring out. As I travel around its circumference, the image raises his arms, the muscles bunching and lengthening under the phosphorescent skin. There’s a perfectly flat stomach, the abdominals clearly defined. My hair, stubbly yet thick, almost begs to be touched.

 

God, will I ever be this young again? Will I look like this next year? The year after? I understand now what Narcissus felt when he gazed into the pool. I hate myself for being so vain… and try to ascribe the beauty of this portrait to Liam’s hands.

 

“God!” I gasp. “It’s really flattering.”

 

“No,” Liam says. “It’s not flattering. It’s you.”

 

My skin is touched with a faint veneer of sweat, making it shine, giving it a texture that makes you want to touch. My eyes seem to reach out, alive, from the hologram, to engage.

 

I feel almost sick. How dare I think so much of myself? But the hologram is stunning, breathtaking. It’s depressing, though, to think that, even if this is really what others see when they look at me, this beauty is nothing I can hold on to, nothing that won’t wither on the vine, darken, age…. This beauty is nothing like a quick wit or a keen intellect, qualities that can be improved by age and the acquisition of wisdom…. It’s temporal. And it frightens me to think that this could be the very best of me. What will I do when it’s gone?

 

“Damn,” Henrietta whispers, “you are one gorgeous man.”

 

I shake my head, staring at the strong form, the defined muscle, the face that looks carved from marble. Suddenly I feel sad. I think of how Henrietta and I talked of beauty on the rooftop, and I think how it isn’t fair that even now, this beauty is slipping away, moment by moment.

 

“What’s the matter, Gary?” Liam puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you like it?”

 

“Oh, that’s not it. I… I love it.”

 

“It’s my masterpiece, you know. I know that sounds pretentious, but it’s the finest work I’ve ever done.”

 

“I do believe you’re right, Mr. Howard. Even better than me, and honey, that’s saying a lot.” Henrietta moves closer to me. “Look at you. A finer specimen has not been created.”

 

“And that’s just the problem,” I whisper, turning away from the portrait, tearing myself away, actually, because I think I could look at it all day. “You were right, Henrietta. Youth and beauty are more important than we give them credit for.”

 

“Anyone says different is just paying lip service.”

 

I shake my head slowly, returning my gaze to the portrait. “Damn. I’d give my soul to always look like that.” A short, humorless laugh escapes me, almost choked out by despair. “Why can’t it be me who will always look like that and the hologram that would age?” The flawless eyes stare back. “Sign me up, Devil. I’ll give you my soul….”

“Don’t talk like that!” Liam snaps.

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Real Men. True Love.

Rick R. Reed is an award-winning and bestselling author of more than fifty works of published fiction. He is a Lambda Literary Award finalist. Entertainment Weekly has described his work as “heartrending and sensitive.” Lambda Literary has called him: “A writer that doesn’t disappoint…” Find him at www.rickrreedreality.blogspot.com. Rick lives in Palm Springs, CA, with his husband, Bruce, and their fierce Chihuahua/Shiba Inu mix, Kodi.

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