B for Blood – Azure Spark. Part 2

[This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

BLOOD – Tuesday Afternoon

Beautiful beaches have two facades. One under an azure sky invites tourists and recreation. The other wild and electrifying like the storm.

Was that when the victims were both tossed up here? The sea was turbulent over the weekend, and waves battered the shoreline. In local harbours numerous boats were damaged, and a few were sunk.

Eyes closed, I see our beach, the beach where we met. Heart pounds. Blood races. Our beach – where we first challenged biased beliefs. Ffyc prejudice.

Focus. The case calls. Two victims need resolution.

The injuries are violent. But were the two men washed overboard from a ship or attacked on the beach. There was no blood visible at the scene. Washed away? Waves and rocks might have done more damage if the victims had been swept in by the storm.

Steady steps along the shoreline, thinking and looking. Do forensics have everything? Ring them.

“What do we know so far, Liam? I’m at the beach now.”

“Still early, DC Anwyl. Too many cases – and we are constantly short-staffed. All we know is that the bodies and clothes were wet from salt water. But we don’t know how the injuries occurred.”

My tattoos tingle. Something is missing. We can’t wait. I need answers.

“The bodies can’t have been in the water for too long in that storm or they would’ve drowned. Agree?”

“That’s likely, especially since the medical report doesn’t show any signs such as hypothermia. But they had been in contact with seawater and the weatherproof gear that we took was saturated.”

W for Weather. B for Blood. S for Seawater.

“What sort of gear?”

“Fishing or sailing clothes. So, the men could’ve been swept off a pier somewhere, although our evidence doesn’t support them being in the sea long.”

Unidentified and not reported missing – yet. Or whoever attacked them was attempting to keep their identities hidden. But without killing them. To gain time for something? Or robbery?

“You left some clothes – jeans and a T-shirt. Why? I detected some dark substance. Tar?”

“We removed the weatherproof gear covering the men and we took fabric samples from their other clothes. Including that substance. Possibly bitumen or some derivative. I’ll let you know. Is that all, detective?”

I let him go and continue my slow pacing along the shoreline. Does the tar mean that the second man was a mechanic or road worker? Or is it from somewhere else? Is it even relevant?

I failed to check the other man’s clothes. Slipping. My throat constricts. Why did I miss that? Who will know? A serious oversight I can rectify.

A family is playing cricket on the beach. I stop and watch. My motorcycling leathers are out of place against their summer seaside attire. Out of place alongside most of my colleagues who dress more formally – except Kama in her Indo-Western pant suits. But her Tamil heritage is an excuse.

“Unusual to see a biker here.” The father smiles at me. “And female ones are even rarer. Do you play cricket?”

“I’m Welsh so I know rugby. But I spend more time in the water.”

“Oh, so you’re a sailor. We try not to miss the local regatta in August. Do you sail in that one?”

I’ve forgotten the Aberdaron Regatta next week. A clue? Like the weatherproof gear our two victims were wearing?

“More of a wild water swimmer. But I might give the regatta some thought.”

W for Wild and Weather. S for Swimming and Sailing. A for Aberdaron. L for Llŷn.

The Llŷn Peninsula has some unique boats that may well use tar or pitch.

C for Clinker-built Craft. C for Caulking,

CLAWS. Like the strange injuries?

Photo by
Cai Williams – Aberdaron Sailing Club

http://www.hwylio-llyn.co.uk/home.htm

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

A for Assault – Azure Spark. Part 1


[This story will be posted in full after the Challenge for those of us that like to read everything in one complete telling,]

ASSAULT – Tuesday Midday

Appalling abrasions are more than I expected from the headlines – Another Aberdaron Assault.

But not from our photos.

I wince. Muscles clench. Concentrate.

The victim’s face shows signs of deep scratches like claws as well as multiple angry bruises as if he was beaten up. More than the two bloodied and black eyes. Arms. Shoulders. Legs. Aggravated assault.

He is asleep. Or worse. Breathe.

Has he regained consciousness, doctor?”

“Not since he was brought in, Detective Anwyl. We treated his injuries as best we could, but he remains in this coma. I will inform NWP when he regains consciousness.”

Another Aberdaron Assault. Those attention-grabbing headlines missed that detail. The reporter ran with ‘second man found assaulted on the beach at Aberdaron’. But even the North Wales Police has minimal information. Two unidentified athletic men in their twenties sprawled comatose on Aberdaron beach.

“And the other victim?”

The doctor gestures across the corridor where a Police Community Support Officer is stationed.

“The same. They’ve both received serious blows to the head.”

I nod. Amnesia when they regain consciousness is my fear. “Where are their clothes?”

He points to a neat pile on the shelf. “Your forensic team examined them, I believe. Removed some. Ask the senior nurse if you need additional medical information. I have more patients requiring my attention.”

The doctor leaves. Little I can do here until the two men regain consciousness. My tattoos are tingling.

A for Aggravated Assault and Attire.

Clothes. Nothing unusual. Except the jeans have a dark stain. Blood? Darker – the colour of my biking leathers. Black. Tar? Although forensics will have removed any evidence, I need to visit the crime scene at Aberdaron. Bike across to the end of the Llŷn Peninsula. Find what I can. This was aggravated assault and my tattoos confirm my suspicions. What connects these two men?

I finger my bracer, tapping on its studs. A for Assault. C for Coma. F for Forensics. E for Evidence. T for Tar. FACET or FATE.

Clench my teeth. I must control my future – my life.

The PCSO relaxes as I approach. “I was hoping another female officer would be assigned to the case. Some of our male colleagues demand too much.”

“Agree. I just need you to watch both victims while I investigate – and report anything suspicious to me.” I hand her my card. “Or my partner – her number is on the back.”

Outside Bangor hospital, I check-in with the case’s supervisory officer, Detective Sergeant V Kamatchi Pillai.

Breathe slowly. Deep. Remain professional – like she does so well.

“Both victims are still unconscious. The doctor will inform us when they are awake.”

A sigh. Perhaps a smile.

“But you have a hunch, Sparkle. Your tattoos again?”

I smile. Kama knows me so well. Her voice is as dark and sultry as her looks. My blood races. I close my eyes. Focus on the case not my lover.

“Yes. I’m going to Aberdaron. To the crime scene – to the beach.”

Not our special Morfa Bychan beach. But later.


Aberdaron Beach, Gwynedd, looking towards Porth Meudwy – author: Skinsmoke https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Skinsmoke

For further details on this theme visit my Blogging from A to Z Theme Reveal, and on the evolution of Sparkle Anwyl visit Snowdon Shadows.

Other A to Z Bloggers can be found via the Blogging from A to Z website’s Master List –
http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/2019/03/link-to-view-master-list-and.html

^*^

And now for something completely different.

“Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak.”
William Congreve – The Mourning Bride

A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal – Azure Spark

A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal – #AtoZChallenge #ThemeReveal

This year, I am better prepared for today’s A to Z Challenge Theme Reveal day than I have been in recent years.

Initially, my thoughts had been drifting around the thoughts I scribbled down after 2017’s Challenge and kept adding to after last year’s Challenge. One ongoing possibility was to work with the list of places in North Wales that were linked to my Welsh detective series.

As many of you must know, I’ve been working on various aspects of Sparkle Anwyl’s career from the revision of her case, Fates Maelstrom, to short flash posts for WEP/IWSG. I have also been deliberating over what to do with my writing. Do I just blog more Sparkle posts? Do I focus on my Sparkle novel, Fevered Few?

Well, for the 2019 Blogging from A to Z April Challenge, I will be releasing a new Sparkle Anwyl short story, called Azure Spark.


Aberdaron Beach, Gwynedd, looking towards Porth Meudwy – author: Skinsmoke https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/User:Skinsmoke

Each day’s post will move the story forwards with the appropriate letter playing a prominent role. For instance, the letter A is for Assault as in the incident that triggers the story. This plays well with Sparkle’s idiosyncrasy of using mnemonics to help her tackle crime. You’ll have to wait to see how that ‘spells’ out.

I may add a little extra with a daily musical offering. After last year’s A to Z challenge, I began collating a musical list for this year, so at least it might survive in some form. For a taster, here – if this works – is the soundtrack for one of the games that I play. Also, an echo of my 2018 gaming theme. This is one of the pieces of music playing as I work.

That’s all for this reveal. I’m off to work on Sparkle’s current case. There are quite a few alphabetical threads left – blame it on my health not my devious mind.

#WEP/IWSG February 2019 challenge – 28 Days

My #WEP/IWSG post for February is part of the 2019 WEP/IWSG Challenge and the conclusion of the incident from my Halloween/Deja Vu or Voodoo postWhite Lady. and my December Ribbons and Candles post, Rushlight Wreathes.

However, this is not the only incident in the career of Sparkle Anwyl that unfolds in Fevered Few, Book 1 of the Snowdon Shadows police procedural series. I m.ay return to Wales for future WEP/IWSG entries but I need o avoid spoilers – at least in relation to the main plot 

Pongal Blood

Dark brown splatters.

Shivers tease me. Blood can signify crime, accident or nature.

The spots on the kitchen counter would have been suspect at a crime scene. A reason for luminol spray and light. But no weapon. Not even a knife. A wooden love spoon bears witness on the wall.

It wasn’t me – even in our bathroom where Kama has heightened my sense of cleanliness.

My time of the month was as cyclical as the moon, but work stress has played games with it. Kama is more constant. Does meditation help her? Is that why she is now in our garden staring at the sun?

Clues are on the counter.

By her head movement, Kama hears me open the garden door onto the small paved area where she has traced the auspicious kolam design in white lime powder in the early morning after bathing.

She continues her ceremony, raising her face to the sun, then bending to our makeshift firepit.

The fragrance of rice and milk wraps around me. Chakkara pongal preparation. The golden jaggery stains were the main clue – and the empty package from India.

I squat beside her. She is dressed in a simple saree and blouse with face and arm markings – more traditional than my black trouser suit kameez.

The earthenware pot of milk has boiled and overflowed, so Kama has added the rice, even if the harvest that the sun made possible is the one back in the Southern Hemisphere, in Tamil Nadu.

#

“Our colleagues at CID may not recognise Pongal,” says Kama zipping up her leathers, “But they respect our days-off.”

“Until some serious crime intervenes. Let’s escape while we can.”

A fifteen-minute ride out beyond Prenteg, takes us to a well-maintained farm track off the B4410 leading to some modernised farm buildings with a restored farmhouse.

We park the Ducati and Ninja beside a spotless 4×4 Mitsubishi Shogun.

Raimund Virtanen is working on a chassis with an arc-welder but hears us approaching as if he has super-hearing. Weird for a coachbuilder.

He removes the helmet revealing blond hair and blue eyes. Six foot three inches and strongly built. I estimate mid-forties.

“You are the two Heddlu with a carriage mystery – intriguing-like. Come inside and we’ll talk.”

The farmhouse kitchen is a modern and expensive take on a traditional Welsh one. It reminds me of my grandparents’ home except this one looks as spotless as the Shogun. Does this man eat or drive? Our roads aren’t dirt-free, and the salt-laden air can coat things.

“How do you partake of your tea or coffee, ladies?”

“Two black coffees, please.”

I can’t place his accent. Not one that tallies with those foreign visitors I’ve met on the streets of Porthmadog.

“We were wondering if you can identify a vehicle from a local painting – puzzling as it’s the reflection in a mirror.”

He takes the printout and studies it under a magnifying glass for a few minutes.

“This is a phaeton, I’m sure. Drawn by one or two horses, a phaeton features a lightly sprung body atop four extravagantly large wheels. With open seating, it is fast and dangerous, so its name, drawn from the mythical Phaëton, son of Helios, who nearly set the earth on fire while attempting to drive the chariot of the sun.”

“A common carriage?”

“Not around here. There weren’t many made locally. Ten at most – more like half that.”

“Do you know who owned them?” Kama clutches the group painting but holds it back. “Locally, for instance?”

Virtanen goes to a filing cabinet and removes a folder. “This is a list that I compile of vehicles that I trace – not many but a few notable ones like Captain William Yong. He raced other owners and win – for money.”

“And he lived locally? Do you know what he looked like?”

The carriage expert throws up his hands and shrugs. “I only know he lived in Porthmadog and marries into a Tremadog family – make his fortune by investing in his in-law’s business. No more. Why are the police interested?”

“More our personal interest.” The compelling urge to confess is too much for me. “More like ghost-hunting. We encountered a female figure on Halloween that might have been killed in a carriage accident.”

“This phaeton crashed? Unlikely if Captain Yong is driving – he has a reputation as an expert at ‘Hunting the Squirrel’. Side-swiping a rival’s carriage requires certain accuracy.”

Accuracy needed to hit a fleeing lover.

“A pedestrian was hit at night,” Kama says. “No headlights I presume back then. So accidental – perhaps.”

“Agree. The horses won’t have seen someone crossing a dark road – until they crush the poor woman,” His expression is tortured. “Back home…I am knocked over by horses as a child…and savaged bad. Hooves are strong and sharp, especially with shoes. I hate to think of your woman’s injuries.” He hesitates. “If you see a ghost – the horses killed her. Back home that will be blame on the animals – punishment.”

“Back home?” asks Kama who shares my curiosity.

“I grow up in rural community – in Finland. Many years ago. Poor – so I move here as I want to learn to build vehicles like horseboxes – to help them. I call this ‘reparation’ – my making terms with the past and moving on. Do we know the woman’s name?”

There seems to be no harm in telling him. “Dinah Quinlan.”

“Strange matter that I will not forget. Blood is easy shed.”

He escorts us back to our bikes.

Is our cold case closed? Until anything new emerges.

#

The moon is full when we celebrate the last day of Pongal.  My arm around Kama, I’m oblivious to the calendar with the four days in mid-January highlighted.

My mind is on November 1836.

 “That old nineteenth century painting indicts Captain Yong for murder – four weeks before he married his victim’s sister. The artist knew the truth.”

***

Word Count 999: MPA

For more information on the Pongal Festival visit: http://www.pongalfestival.org/

Comments are welcome as usual, but for the WEP/IWSG Challenge, the following applies:

(FCA welcome – if you want to send one, just let me know in the comments.)

Please enjoy other participants’ entries in the Challenge via this list for which the links will be updated as the post appear: https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/

#WEP/IWSG December 2019 challenge – RIBBONS AND CANDLES.

Ribbonsndles

My #WEP/IWSG post for December is a continuation of my Halloween/Deja Vu or Voodoo post, White Lady. I continued to explore the incident during NaNoWriMo so this is derived from what I wrote in November.

However, the incident is too long to conclude her, but the conclusion will be in 28 writing days – more or less. This incident in the career of Sparkle Anwyl plays a key part in Fevered Few, Book 1 of the Snowdon Shadows police procedural series.  

Rushlight Wreathes

Ghost hunting doesn’t fall into my remit as a police officer, but my inquisitive nature wanted to identify our ‘White Lady’ during off-duty hours at home. Why had the ghost appeared on the old track between Porthmadog and Tremadog on Halloween?

My tingling tattoos and the mnemonic CALENDS had stirred up this cold case investigation. C for Coach, A for Accident, L for Lady, E for Eerie N for Night, D for Dreams, S for Spirits.

With no local police records before 1857, I trawl the old North Wales papers for coach-related incidents after 1811 and the founding of the ‘new town’ of Tremadog.

Fist pump as details match.

On November 1st, 1836, Dinah Adelaide Quinlan, the seventeen-year-old daughter of a retired soldier, Major Bernard Algernon Quinlan living in Tremadog was run down and crushed under the hooves of a sporty Phaeton carriage, driven by an unknown but uniformed person that was seen leaving the battered body at Major Quinlan’s house off Isgraig. The reporter was unclear why Dinah was on foot as her family owned a Berlin carriage, but she never requested the vehicle from their coachman.

Delving further, I discover that Major Quinlan served with the British East India Company’s Madras Army in Southern India between 1790-1805. On his retirement, he acquired a substantial property in the new town, and invested in the area. A photo shows a middle-aged Major Quinlan in his uniform decorated with medals on ribbons.

If Dinah was the ghost and died in 1836, there must be a grave or family tomb. Where if the family were Church of England? Her funeral details state the church of St Cynhaearn, known as Ynyscynhaearn.

Familiarity warms my spine – my tad’s parents are buried there. A visit to the place where they rest in peace, alone, yet surrounded by the sleeping graves of more than three centuries worth of parishioners.

A click as the door of the flat opens. I look at the mantel clock – midnight. As Kama walks into the kitchen I embrace her.

“More cold research? Found anything, cariad?”

“After three evenings of digging, chellam.” I stroke her face. “Are you up for visiting a graveyard? One where our ghost might be buried?”

Kama blinks and hangs up her biker jacket, then peels off her leather pants. “I’m free on Friday – isn’t that your day off as well?”

“If crime takes a slow day – yes. Date then.”

##

The stone walls seem part of the white-dotted green fields beyond that were once filled with water centuries earlier. There is an atmosphere of serenity, as few other than sheep wander down the narrow track.

Slate gravestones, orphaned from their corpses, are lined up along the side benches. Tears start to trickle as we read the names and imagine past lives. Welsh and English at peace in this corner of our troubled land.

My ancestors lie in a simple family plot awaiting the next member. I shudder, fearing who is most at risk. At least, my tad is now a desk sergeant and no longer front-line like me. I shake off the fear and focus on searching.

“Major Bernard Algernon Quinlan.” Kama points at a family grave comprising a more ostentatious mounted urn surrounded by a yew and an ornate railing. “There’s not just one person in here.”

“Died in 1840 aged 73. Buried alongside his wife – and his daughter Dinah Adelaide Quinlan.” My heart tightens, and my throat constricts. “She was the first to be buried here – a tragedy. I wish we knew more. Burial records before 1837 are less organised and vary between churches.”

“Does that mean more cold research?”

“That carriage killed her – accident or murder? Cold case so I’m hooked as ever.”

Gravestones are never cold names. Gateways to memories beckon.

##

Kama has the addiction too – but she’s the real detective.

“This ancestry site has descendants of Major Quinlan.” She points to our desktop screen. “A direct descendant of his son posted this – Edwin Quinlan.”

“Who has a daughter called Dinah. But the family is from the West Country – Truro.” The mother lode or a red herring. “This Edwin is named after the Major’s oldest son, the dead Dinah’s brother. And Dinah occurs down the generations. Do the family know more?”

Kama opens another link. A black and white photo of a family group taken in 1840, the year Major Quinlan died. The group is in what must have been a lavish sitting room in the family home. Soft lighting comes from strategic candles and rushlights. The photo shows Major Quinlan, his son Edwin Owen Quinlan and his wife, another daughter with her Royal Navy uniformed husband.

Kama points to the son-in-law. “It’s only a photo but that man is hiding something – or am I being too suspicious?”

Rushlight – Public Domain

Not CALENDS but CANDLES.

The tingling of my tattoos agrees with her, and I tap out a new mnemonic on my studded bracer. S-I-N.

S for Suspect. I for Inheritance. N for Naval. In Celtic folklore, there is a tale of bringing candles to the church to count sins. Was this the unknown figure that retrieved the body?

I zoom in to a mirror – reflecting a carriage and two horses outside.

“If that’s a phaeton then you may be right. Unfortunately, our suspect is dead, and the crime is more than cold. But we can resolve something.”

“What make of carriage that is and did the family own that type – although the latter will be problematic.”

Finding a photo of a 19th century phaeton that matches proves difficult as the reflection is indistinct. However, our search for records on period vehicles in Snowdonia yields a name – Raimund Virtanen, a horsebox builder who knows about 19th century vehicles.

A recent group photo of him presenting rosettes with long ribbons at a horse show suggests that he is respected – or has influential contacts.

A lead or a dead end?

***

Comments are welcome as usual, but for the WEP Challenge, the following applies:

Word Count 999: MPA

(FCA welcome – if you want to send one, just let me know in the comments.)

Where Did My Kindle Files Go?

Thursday_horizons

Apologies for today’s Thursday Creation Review not being about anything creative as such. Well, it is about Kindle files and those are books so that counts. Doesn’t it?

Last week, I wrote that my Kindle had died a few weeks ago, so I had to revert to ‘my pile of reconstituted trees’.

I had hoped that the 500+ Kindle titles on my Amazon UK account would transfer to my Amazon US account and be accessible with my US-bought Fire 7 when I updated my address. That was not the case – my UK-bought titles remained behind. I can access them via Kindle Cloud – great news as most of the research books I access from my PC are UK-acquired ones. (The Cloud is no use when I want to read away from my desk.)

Amazon stopped me buying a new device from their UK site to send to my US address – hence the new Fire. I am presuming that my wife’s UK-bought Kindle has the UK books on it – we just need to find it’s ‘safe place’.

Ringing Amazon Customer Services seemed to be the best solution. Maybe they could make the transfer or amalgamate the accounts.

I spoke with two helpful people in Bangalore, India who explained exactly why my UK-bought content cannot be accessed with US-bought devices – ever. Basically, bought Kindle content is tied to the account of the device – and to the ‘household/family’. Therefore, my UK-bought Kindle was acquired from the Amazon UK site which is tied to my AOL UK email address. Accessing that device here in the US was no problem so I could read any of the 500+ books over here in the US – when my old Kindle was working.

I use a different email for my Amazon US account and all content bought via that account appears on any device bought on that account. My Fire 7 is linked to my US account, where it was bought, and this device contains nineteen US-bought titles. However, that means US-bought reference books aren’t on the Cloud.

Seeing the pattern?

“Oh, East is East, and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.”

Not exactly what Rudyard Kipling meant, so maybe I’ll try this apocryphal quote by George Bernard Shaw:

“England and America are two countries separated by the same language.”

Or create a new amalgamated version:

“Oh, Amazon UK and Amazon US are two monoliths separated by the same rules so never the twain shall meet.”

George Bernard Shaw Painting; George Bernard Shaw Art Print for sale

 

After that light entertainment, back to the programme.

There are some solutions.

Number 1: if I had just a single Amazon account, then I could change that into an Amazon account in another country. If I’m right, my problem is having two active accounts with two separate emails. Two different emails make me two different people.

Bottom line: if you are planning to move to another country, talk to Amazon first about taking your content with you. DON’T CREATE A SECOND ACCOUNT BLINDLY.

Rhif 2: follows on from that email observation – and it’s my cray-thinking so not based on fact. If different members of a family with different emails can be a ‘Household’ and share books, why can’t my two email personalities? Question to Amazon Customer Services.

Numéro 3: I can purchase a new device with my US account as a gift. The recipient then links it to their own Amazon account – my wife just gifted her grand-daughter in that way. So, Roland US can gift Roland UK a Kindle/Fire? Question 2 to Amazon Customer Services – once we find my wife’s Kindle and see if it still has the 500+ books on it.

My fear is that by updating my address, I dismantled our ‘Household’ so there will be no content. No content = No Household for Roland UK to join. I have also noted that every time I now want to buy a Kindle title on my UK account, it won’t let me and says to go to the US store. That means any gift cards from my UK family are worthless for now.

Número 4: Amazon Customer Services did throw out one solution, although it was one that they were unable to implement. The technical guy in India said that my ISP might be able to set up a network that would give my US device access to my UK content. A solution I’ll be pursuing once others have been investigated.

For now, I have e-books on my Fire and at least eight paperbacks lined up to be read and reviewed. Hopefully, that means that the Thursday Creation Review will be back to normal next week.

01ducati-695

POSTSCRIPTS

First postscript: One of the comments on Amazon raised the question of whether a writer faced similar restrictions selling books. I believe that there are no restrictions of this kind. For writers, Amazon allows one to sell almost worldwide. However, I am reading that the market beyond Amazon is far greater. So, don’t go the Amazon exclusive route. I did and I’m rethinking my strategy for my Snowdon Shadows series.

Second postscript, or Ail bostysgrif: I am intending to submit an entry for the 2018 Annual IWSG Anthology Contest. However, I’ve strayed outside my comfort zone as the Genre is Young Adult Romance with the Theme of Masquerade. I have one beta-reader perusing my attempt, but it would help to have input from at least one other person.

Any beta-reader volunteers, please? Yn ddelfrydol siaradwr Cymraeg.

EveMyles-Sparkle