The True Believer Novels & Stories

"Mainly, this place has been deserted for a long time, and your sudden arrival gives me a chance to have a chat..." That was far from what she had anticipated… Yaslyn had initially believed he must be a mysterious holy man, with whom a conversation would unearth profound secrets. However, as she observed the elderly man before her, his smile somewhat strained, perplexity washed over her. "Aren’t you going to share any secrets?" Yaslyn asked suspiciously. "Almsgiver, I'm just an ordinary person. I don't know any secrets. We should believe in science." 'Believe in science…'

Your mother will never let me live it down. Trust yourself and your mates. Trust your powers and your Goddess. Do not be over confident. Angel

Mine… or yours? My stomach twisted. I kept reading, the words dry in my mouth. “Temptation is strongest when we believe ourselves safe from it. That is when it finds us.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. ‘Did I find you, Father? Or did you come looking for me?’ My grip on the Bible tightened. I forced my voice steady. “True faith survives through struggle—” Ezreal smiled, slow, deliberate. ‘Did you struggle when I was inside you?’

"You had to hear all those awful things." I shook my head. "It's fine. The more they insult me, the more it proves that our plan is working. I actually hope they keep betting everything on Wallace." In the days that followed, we played our parts to perfection. Every call I made to the Bourns was full of fake misery and despair. Soon, new rumors spread around Jezelworth. People said Abby was completely unhinged, and that the fake Bourn son she'd married was close to losing his mind.

Not applause. But belief.

Space of choice, repeated, until pattern becomes indistinguishable from commitment. Or so we choose to believe. So we perform believing. So we discover whether belief itself might be genuine.

Now. Rebecca shook with rage at my words, then looked at me, her eyes brimming with disappointment and loathing. "Daniel, I get it, you don't want to split up, but you don't have to spin such a pathetic lie! "What's your dad to me? This place? It's bankrolled by the top dog himself, and he's betting on my smarts, not on any connection to you or your old man." I let out a derisive laugh.

"What's wrong? Are you scared? "Don't worry. My Padre won't torture you for the truth, just like Enzo did. He prefers… a single, clean shot. "So think carefully… Are you going to confess now, or should I invite Enzo over to tell us… who the real traitor is?"

I said: because I believe in what you do the way you have always believed in what I do. I said: you believed in my surgery before I understood what I had. You came to the OR and you paid attention and you understood what the work meant, not just the technique, the meaning. You drew the heart the way you drew it because you understood what the heart was doing, not just what it looked like. That is belief. That is the specific quality of attention that constitutes believing in something.