By Deborah Bainbridge
The museum director faced the crowd. “Everyone, raise a glass for this evening’s brilliant artist. To Helen!”
“Helen!” Voices thundered in unison as afficionados lifted their wine goblets, then sipped the crimson nectar.
Helen drank in the praise, her gaze focused on the lone glass that remained lifted. The vessel lowered, revealing the frank blue eyes of its beholder.
Helen’s breath caught. Thank you, Goddess Nemesis.
The man, who could only be a Greek god in human form, smirked.
“I must paint you.” Helen’s words tumbled out breathless as she hastened forward, her eyes perusing the length of the stunning man before her. “Flawless ivory features, finely curved scarlet lips. You would be my greatest muse.”
“I like the sound of that.” The breathtaking man adjusted his white bowtie. “I’m Dorian Gray.”
Helen fanned her face with her hand. “Forgive me. I never behave this way in public.”
Dorian ran his fingers through his crisp golden hair. “Who could blame you?”
Helen giggled.
Dorian glanced around the room at the unparalleled paintings showcased along the walls. “I think tonight I became your greatest admirer. Is there such a thing as love at first sight?”
“I’m beginning to believe there is.” Helen’s cheeks flushed. “You must promise to let me paint you so the world can admire your beauty.”
“My friend Basil and I are expected in London in two weeks, but”—he stroked his chin—“I suppose we could linger in Greece a little longer. After all, how can I deny the world?”
Helen clapped, stretching upward onto her toes.
“You would look good on my arm,” Dorian said. “Would you take me on a tour of Rhamnous tomorrow?”
Before she could answer, a dark-haired man in black tails cleared his throat and lowered his top hat. “Basil Hallward, at your service. Allow me to chaperone you and Dorian.”
“The pinnacle of propriety.” Dorian nudged his elbow into Basil’s ribs.
Helen batted her eyelashes. “Absolutely.”
***
The following morning, Helen dressed in her favorite gown and gold sandals, her hair plaited into a half-updo and adorned with jewels. This gown brings out the green in my eyes. Dorian is sure to fall in love with me.
The two men stepped into Helen’s carriage donning Victorian England high fashion—fitted suits with waistcoats, knotted neckcloths, and gray top hats. After a city tour, the driver stopped at a bountiful garden before a great temple. Basil spread blankets while Helen arranged the Mediterranean delicacies from her picnic basket.
“That was delicious.” Dorian plucked a daffodil from beside him, offering it to Helen as he kissed her cheek.
Thrilling chills ran down her spine as she accepted his token of affection, inhaling the flower’s sweet scent. “I’d like to show you my favorite place in the city.” Taking Dorian’s hand, she guided him into the Temple of Nemesis where she stared into the Pool of Reflection. “The pool reflects an image of what you love most. I’ve always seen myself, an accomplished painter. Now, I see only you. I’ll never paint anything or anyone else again.” She stepped to the side as Basil entered the temple, his heels clicking across the marble floor. “Here, Dorian, look into the waters. I want to see—”
“Me.” Dorian turned sideways, as if mesmerized by his reflection. “I understand why you wish to paint me. I am a god incarnate.”
“My muse, of course I will paint you.” Helen clung to his side. “But why aren’t you looking at me? Your dearest love?”
He gestured toward his reflection. “I wouldn’t dream of distracting you from your work. What use are you to me without your fame?”
Helen flinched as if she’d been slapped in the face.
“Dorian!” Basil rushed to Helen’s side. “Your depraved vanity intensifies daily.”
Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you always telling me honesty is virtuous?”
Basil’s face was aghast. “This is cruelty, not virtue. Do not strive after the wind, my friend. Repent, that your soul may not be lost.”
Dorian faced Helen. “Tomorrow afternoon, I grant you the honor of painting me. But you will surrender it to me. It will be my most prized possession.” Glancing at the pool, Dorian winked at his reflection, then exited the temple.
Helen crumpled, tears welling in her eyes.
“Dorian is so like Narcissus,” a familiar, crafty voice whispered. “Charming with exceptional beauty, yet without empathy. Narcissus captured the hearts of many, but treated his admirers with disdain.”
Helen sat upright. “Goddess Nemesis?”
“Don’t listen, Helen!” Basil warned. “This voice will only deceive you.”
Nemesis continued without hesitation, “I once led Narcissus here, pouring my justice into this very pool. He fell so deeply in love with his reflection, he took his own life. The narcissus flower you hold sprang forth—the embodiment of self-obsession.”
Helen flung the daffodil away from her. “He ripped my heart out without a second thought.”
“Dorian will crush the hearts of all who seek his affection. If you allow him to escape unpunished, then you, too, will be cruel.”
“Seek vengeance?” Helen spun around. “But I am an artist.”
“There is only one God and vengeance belongs to Him,” Basil interjected. “I must try and reason with Dorian.” With that, he rushed after his friend.
The goddess snarled. “Haven’t I always cared for you, Helen? When you dipped your paintbrushes into the pool, did I not enchant them with fame and fortune?”
“Yes, goddess.” A light breeze caressed Helen.
“Vanity and vengeance are such harsh words,” Nemesis hissed. “Let us call them beauty and wisdom.”
“Beauty and wisdom, those I value.”
“I know.”
“What must I do?”
“Bring the canvas here. Soak it in the pool. After you paint Dorian, that which he loves most, his beauty, will be reflected onto the canvas, leaving him as he truly is: horrific and repulsive.”
Helen stood, squaring her shoulders. “I will do what must be done.”
As she exited the temple, three words floated in the wind: “Vengeance is mine.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Your stories grab me from the very start, are really great, and have a POW ending. You surely did it again on this one.
Thank you, mamabear! 💗 Glad you enjoyed it!
It can be difficult to see what is on the inside, when the outside is so captivating!
Excellent reflection.
Great Story! Very well written!
Thank you so much!
What they say, beauty is only skin deep. Thank you
Thank you!
The next day, tourists at the temple watch as Helen throws a canvas into the temple pool and and wonder what she’s protesting
😂
A great homage to Wilde’s classic! Well done, as always Deborah 😊
Thanks for your thoughtful encouragement, Kayla!
Such a powerful story! You’ve done a beautiful job of capturing the Dorian character.
Thank you so much, Arlan! That’s high praise, coming from you, and I really appreciate it.
This was a wonderful story by a fabulous author!
Wow! Thank you very much!
It’s always an adventure, reading her short stories. It’s like you’re going back in time. They are so descriptive love them.
Dale, thank you.
I love it! Great work ❤️
Thanks so much!
A narcissist gets his just rewards. I can’t help feeling Helen will have a reckoning somewhere down the line as well! Such a good read!
Thank you, Karen!
Loved this story.
Thank you. I really appreciate that!