Lawrence and Lawrie | Laura Besley
At that point in the summer holiday, when there were as many days behind him as ahead, 8-year-old Lawrence decided to clone himself. By morning there was another Lawrence: same wavy auburn hair, same constellation of freckles across his nose, same chipped front tooth. This Lawrence was more of a Lawrie, though, and that suited them both just fine.
That first morning, confined to Lawrence’s room, they raced cars, built Lego spaceships and both cheated playing Snakes and Ladders, so neither of them won, but neither of them lost either.
‘Lawrence!’ his mother called up the stairs. ‘It’s time for lunch.’
‘I’ll bring you some food,’ Lawrence said, and shut the door behind him.
An hour later, Lawrence returned with a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of milk, to find that Lawrie had dismantled the Lego and scattered every miniscule piece across the floor of his bedroom. ‘What have you done?’ Lawrence asked.
Lawrie shrugged and grabbed the sandwich. ‘Got bored.’
Lawrence felt the tingling of tears. ‘This is going to take ages to tidy up.’
‘Cry baby,’ Lawrie said and laughed, mouth wide revealing a concoction of half-chewed food and milk.
When Lawrence’s mother called up again at six, Lawrie raced to the door. ‘My turn,’ he said.
Lawrence sat at the top of the stairs, threading his fingers through the long piles of the carpet, and listened. He listened to his mother ask about his day and he listened to Lawrie regaling her with stories of cars and Lego and board games. Although it was all true, Lawrie’s stories were funny in a way that Lawrence’s never were. He listened to his mother laugh in a way he’d never heard her laugh before.
He went back to his bedroom and watched the raindrops race each other down the sash windows.
Lawrence woke up just before dawn to the sound of Lawrie snoring on the floor (they’d tossed a coin for the bed and Lawrence had won fair and square). Lawrence picked up his pillow and crept over to where Lawrie was sleeping. He wondered which he would regret more: killing him, or letting him live.
Laura Besley has been listed by TSS Publishing as one of the top 50 British and Irish Flash Fiction writers with her story ‘On Repeat’ (Reflex Fiction) and her story ‘Silenced’ was nominated for Best Microfiction by Emerge Literary Journal. Her flash fiction collection, The Almost Mothers, was published in March 2020 and her collection of micro fiction, 100neHundred, will be published in May 2021. Having lived in the Netherlands, Germany and Hong Kong, she now lives in land-locked central England and misses the sea. She tweets @laurabesley.