Lawerence

This will be a collection of short stories that build on my character called Lawerence.He manipulates the curious effects of the power of belief to kill people.

The first one I wrote a while ago, so I appologise for any grammar inconsistencies or any other problems suchlike.

NOTE: This is my idea, you are not permitted to steal him or his premise.

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1. Toys Aren't Real

The moonlight dusk filtered in through the windows when he came. A rush of air blasted in when the door creaked open as if he himself brought it with him.

He sat on the table in a leisurely manner when I came around the corner, he fiddled with what I at first thought was a knife. It shone and it was of shape but that shine was too glossy and the term ‘plastic’ came to mind when he bent it right over and it snapped back into place.

“You wouldn’t believe that I could hurt you with this, could you?” he asked, fiddling intently with the false knife. “This is a toy. Toys are only for playing with, am I right?” he chucked it over to me, I caught it blade end and was not cut. “People like to pretend with toys,” he got up, “people like to believe that they are real,” he snatched the knife from my hand with one dramatic swipe. “What if we believed that this is real? Would anything happen... but no... Toys aren’t real; everybody knows that.” He went on turning his back on me.

He turned around suddenly, eyes wide. There was an evil glint in them, “but can a whisper on the wind do anything? Can words passed from door to door have the power to manipulate our fate?”

 He now leaned in over my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “people believed the gods were real. And so they became. But now look at them, cruel and powerful, playing with fate; life and death.” A crescendo of malice took hold of his voice as he uttered the words. He walked a few steps away from me and turned around again, “so could I kill you with this?” He made a show of closing his fingers around the blade of his false knife tightly and quickly yanking it out.

 He opened his hand to reveal a great cut across it, dripping blood. “Of course, it’s a toy. Everyone knows toys aren’t real.” Then all at once he was behind me and pressing the knife to my throat, it felt like cold steel now. “But you don’t believe me, do you?”

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