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      DORIAN GRAYA NOVEL BY JOHN GARAVAGLIA

      ADAPTED FROM THE GRAPHIC NOVEL SERIES BY

      DARREN G. DAVIS, SCOTT DAVIS AND

      FEDERICO DE LUCA

      BASED ON THE NOVEL

      THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GRAY

      BY OSCAR WILDE

      Dorian Gray © 2017 Darren G. Davis & Markosia Enterprises, Ltd. All Rights Reserved. Reproduction of any part of this work by any means without the written permission of the publisher is expressly forbidden. All names, characters and events in this publication are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. Published by Markosia Enterprises, PO BOX 3477, Barnet, Hertfordshire, EN5 9HN.

      FIRST PRINTING, March 2018.

      Harry Markos, Director.

      Paperback: ISBN 978-1-911243-63-2

      eBook: ISBN 978-1-911243-64-9

      Book design by: Ian Sharman

      Cover photography by: Stephanie Swartz

      Cover model: JC Mason

      www.markosia.com

      First Edition

      Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things

      are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.

      Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things

      are the cultivated. For these there is hope.

      Oscar Wilde.

      PROLOGUE

      The artist is the creator of beautiful things.

      Oscar Wilde.

      LONDON, ENGLAND

      April 7, 1890

      Basil Hallward’s studio was filled with the rich fragrance of freshly cut red roses his dutiful butler had picked up for him from the florist this morning. The light summer wind stirred in the trees in the master’s garden, and through the door came the welcoming of the lilacs’ sweet perfume. Basil loved to surround himself with such beautiful things. His sudden disappearance several years ago caused such public excitement and gave rise to so many outlandish assumptions.

      Now he had been working on an important painting so he could reemerge himself back into the art world. He was genuinely proud of this one piece. So elated he even invited his very good friend, Lord Henry Wotton, to be the first to gaze upon to what Basil would think to be his magnum opus. Lord Wotton was also an admirer of beauty and, at the moment, was groveling over the portrait Basil had done. The painting was of a young man in his early twenties, and he was very handsome.

      JOHN GRAVAGLIA

      • 5 •

      As the painter looked at the gracious and comely form he had so skillfully mirrored in his art, a smile of pleasure passed across his face, and seemed about to linger there. But he suddenly started up, and closing his eyes, placed his fingers upon the lids, as though he was deep in thought.

      “It is your best work, Basil, the best thing you have ever done,” said Lord Wotton lethargically. “You must certainly send it next year to the Grosvenor. The Academy is too large and too vulgar. Whenever I have gone there, there have been either so many people that I have not been able to see the pictures, which was dreadful, or so many pictures that I have not been able to see the people, which was worse. The Grosvenor is really the only place.”

      As the artist looked at the gracious figure he had captured in his painting, the smile pressed from his face and he hesitated for a moment.

      “I don’t think I shall send it anywhere,” he frowned, shaking his head. “No, I won’t send it anywhere.”

      Lord Wotton raised his eyebrows and looked at him in disbelief. “Not send it anywhere? My dear fellow, why? Have you any reason? What odd chaps you painters are! A portrait like this would set you far above all the young men in England, and make the old men quite jealous, if old men were ever capable of any emotion.”

      “I know you will laugh at me, Harry,” Basil replied, “but I really can’t. I have put too much of myself into it.”

      DORIAN GRAY

      • 6 •

      “But Basil,” Lord Wotton laughed, “I can’t see any resemblance. I don’t see the problem. I didn’t know you were so vain, but you flatter yourself. You don’t look at all like this fine young lad.”

      “You don’t understand me, Harry,” answered the artist. “Of course I am not like him. I should be sorry to be so. There is a destructive quality about all such physical beauty. It is better not to be so different from others.”

      “Basil, I was wondering.” Said Lord Wotton, walking across the studio toward the arrogant painter. “How did you meet this boy, and what is his name?”

      “I went to a party at Lady Brandon’s.” Explained Basil, recalling the events if it had happened yesterday. “You know we poor artists have to show ourselves in society from time to time just to remind the public we aren’t savages.” Basil smiled. “After about ten minutes I ran into Dorian Gray—the good looking fellow you see before you.” He gestured over to the portrait. “It was funny but from the moment Lady Brandon introduced us, I found him to be a most fascinating person. I had a strange feeling about our meeting—I knew he would have an impact on my painting.”

      Basil insisted that, thanks to Dorian Gray, his recent paintings were the finest he’d ever done and stated that the young man’s personality had suggested a whole new style of art.

      “Yet I’m sure Dorian Gray will suffer because of his good looks.”

      JOHN GRAVAGLIA

      • 7 •

      Lord Wotton was very surprised by Basil’s gloomy prediction. He was eager to learn more about this mysterious model.

      After a pause, Lord Wotton said, “You haven’t answered my question, Basil.”

      “What is that?” Said the painter, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground.

      “You know quite well.”

      “I do not, Harry.”

      “Well, I will tell you what it is. I want you to explain to me why you won’t exhibit Dorian Gray’s picture. I want the real reason.”

      “I told you the real reason.”

      “No, you did not. You said it was because there was too much of yourself in it. Now, that is childish.”

      “Harry,” said Basil, looking him straight in the face, “every portrait that has ever been painted with feeling is a portrait of the artist, not of the sitter. The sitter is merely the accident, the occasion. It is not he who is revealed by the painter, it is rather the painter who, on the colored canvas, reveals himself. The reason I will not exhibit this picture is that I am afraid I have shown in it the secret of my own soul.”

      Lord Wotton laughed. “And what is that?” He asked.

      “I will tell you,” said Basil; but an expression of perplexity came over his face.

      “I am all expectation, Basil,” continued his companion, glancing at him.

      DORIAN GRAY

      • 8 •

      “Oh, there is really very little to tell, Harry.” Answered the painter. “And I am afraid you will hardly understand it. Perhaps you will hardly believe it.”

      Lord Wotton smiled. “I am quite sure I shall understand it, and as for believing things, I can believe anything, provided that is quite incredible. I must meet this Dorian Gray.”

      Basil got up from his seat and walked up and down the garden.

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