A.N. ok, i admit, i wrote this out of boredom, it is not very good and is simply what i think Dorian should be feeling at the end of the story. Anyway please read it and tell me what you think. thanks a million!
Have you ever wondered what will happen if you had chosen differently? I do, I sometimes wish that I could turn back time, back to where it had all started. Back to that fateful afternoon where it had all started. The afternoon when I sold my soul to the devil in exchange of forever youth.
I am Dorian gray. Time stopped for me from that moment onward. I am eighteen forever.
As I later realised, I did not simply sell my soul to the devil. I became the devil.
Yet, strangely I don't really regret my decision, despite all the awful things that I have committed throughout the ages. No, I don't regret it. Not a bit.
Yes, I am the devil. The devil hiding behind the face of an angel.
Looking back, I had committed more than my fill of sins. I ruined the life of an innocent young girl who fell desperately in love with me. To her I was everything her god, her prince charming. Yes, prince charming. She refuses to call me anything else. What happened to her you will ask. She died, as simple as that she simply drank some poison the night I realised who she really was. She was not the promising actress I thought she was, which led to her vengeful brother to continuously seek to take my life after 18 years.
And that is not all, I also single handily killed my best friend, Basil Hallward, the man who painted the fateful portrait. he asked to see my soul, so I showed him. Unable to understand what caused the changes in my life, he asked me to repent. There is nothing to repent for, the reason why I am who I am is because of him, and so I killed him. In the process causing the death of a young scientist, who I turned to when disposing the body that once belonged to Basil, but the young scientist's death was not on my hand, he committed suicide soon after, which is none of my business.
Standing in front of the once beautiful portrait, I can't help but remember the numerous changes that have occurred in my life. Before me is not the face that I have showed the world since the day it has been painted, but that of a hideous old man, marred by the myriad of sins that I have since then committed. Toothless, hairless, yellowy skin pulled tight over the cheek bones, pale lips pulled back in a sneer, revealing rotting and blacked gum, not to mention the yellowed eyes in sunken sockets, gleaming maliciously back at me as if daring me to do something.
This disgusting thing, I see before me is indeed my soul, the soul that I sold to the devil all those years back, it haunts me each night and each day. With grim determination, I plunged a knife into the heart of the jeering man in the painting, the same knife that killed the painter. I do not wish to repent for my sins, not ever, I simply wish for all this to go away. The moment the knife sliced through the canvas, I felt a heart wrenching pain. Yes, I've finally done it. I have brought an end to my deal with the devil and my wretched life.
I lay there dying, watching the portrait transforming before my eyes. The face became the one that I have been accustomed to seeing for the last decades, the portrait grew young and unblemished once again, exquisite and stunning in its own rights.
Later, my servant will find me, in front of the painting that is once more beautiful, and me a ugly, revoltingly hideous thing with the knife in my heart that ended my life.