With a Pull of a Trigger

Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Behind The Mask

Socrates once said; “The hottest love has the coldest end.”

Samuel couldn’t help but agree. He had been, after all, a victim of love; a person who was promised everything and more, yet received nothing.

And to think that all he ever wanted were happiness and contentment.

“Scotch?”

Samuel looked up from his clasped hands and nodded.

Gil smiled emphatically and took his bottle of scotch, pouring some in a glass. He handed the glass to Samuel and sat on the leather chair, leaning back and putting his arms on the leather armrests.

Samuel smiled gratefully and took a sip of his scotch, looking around the room.

Gil followed Samuel’s line of sight. “Ah,” he breathed out, chuckling. “Wonderful, aren’t they?”

“You bought some of my sister’s paintings,” breathed out Samuel. He smiled wistfully. “Does she know?”

Gil chuckled and shook his head. “No. I wanted to remain anonymous so I had one of my trusted guards buy them for me. Gorgeous, aren’t they?”

Samuel stared at one painting in particular, a painting of four roses, the upper parts of which were bent to the right, making the roses look as if in a clockwise position. The rose at the upper part of the painting was the color of deep red, and its stem was filled with thorns. The bottom part of its stem was connected to the other roses’ stems, creating an illusion that all the flowers came from one source. The rose to the right was the color of turquoise blue, and drops of water could be seen on the blue rose. The space between the red rose and the blue rose was painted with a light shade of lavender with curled lines, indicating wind. The rose at the bottom was the color of forest green, its stem having two leaves. The space between the blue rose and the green rose was painted with a light shade of blue-green, raindrops painted on it. And finally, the rose between the red rose and the green rose was the color of pure white. However, instead of being an open rose like the others, the white rose was closed, as if it was yet to bloom. The way the white rose was angled to its right wasn’t painted in the way the others were painted; as if the painter had meant for the roses to be angled to the right. The white rose was painted as if an invisible breeze was making the flower bend to the right, the upper part of its petals as if being blown away, forcing the rose to open slightly at the top. The space between the white rose and the green rose was painted a light shade of emerald green, light shades of yellow painted at intervals. The space between the red rose and the white rose was painted a light shade of pink, small white dots painted on it.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked Gil, looking at the painting Samuel was staring at.

Samuel nodded, still staring at the painting.

“That one’s one of my favorites,” said Gil, sipping his scotch. “Tell me, Samuel, do you know what that painting’s about?”

Samuel shook his head and finally looked at Gil, as if expecting to hear an explanation.

Gil chuckled and pointed to the painting. “The roses signify the four main elements—”

“Fire, air, water, and earth,” said Samuel.

“—and the four seasons.”

Samuel’s eyebrows rose, as if he hadn’t quite expected that. He looked back at the painting, sipping his scotch.

“The red rose at the very top signifies the element fire and the season of fall. The space between the red rose and the blue rose, the one painted in lavender, has curled lines which signify a breeze because those happen quite often in the season of fall. The blue rose signifies the element of water and the season of summer. The space between that and the green rose has raindrops because more often than not, summer plans are canceled because of rains. Do you understand where I’m going through with this, Samuel?”