I loved my brother. He was funny, caring, a good person to be around, and smart. Oh yes – smart, Luther was quite intelligent, a future scientist kind of intelligent. Most times it was a good thing, except for when he was being arrogant.

“A proficient orator and expert in language” is how he used to describe himself. Although he spoke jokingly most of the time, we “normies” who don’t read much tended to take it a bit personally. Luther and I were quite different people, but we did share a lot of similarities; we were twins after all.

Luther and I loved going to the beach. I, Mason, the sportier twin, loved running around and being physically active. Luther, the nerdier one, loved observing and showing everyone how smart and analytical he was – typical book-smart behaviour. This is why going to the beach suited us both; I was the one who ran around collecting all the different kinds of shells and interesting finds, while Luther recorded it all and made his notes.

He even agreed to play ball games from time to time if he was in a good mood. I guess that’s what twins are made to do: find common ground and become close. It was going well for us. We were two twins enjoying our lives, knowing that we had each other’s backs. I was enjoying my life with my brother, but nothing lasts forever.

I came home after a surfing session at the beach. Luther hadn’t the slightest idea on how to surf, in fact he barely knew how to swim, so he left the beach a bit earlier than me. I didn’t like it when Luther was the only one in the house because usually when I knocked he took unnecessarily long to let me in. This day was different, however. When I knocked, there was no response.

I knocked at least 7 times but still no response.

After about 10 minutes, I became quite fed up but worried at the same time. It was a bit worrying because usually when Luther took long to open, he at least gave a lazy response of “I’m coming now!”

Mom and dad were not home and my anxiety was getting worse by the second. So, without any hesitation, I kicked the door down.
I am now unable to un-see the scene I saw.

*****

“We are gathered here today to honour the life and memory of Luther Simons,” said the pastor as Luther’s memorial service began.

It was so surreal, actually attending a memorial service of someone who was supposed to have years and years ahead of him. It was unfair but it was my reality. While many of the people in attendance were struggling to come to terms with his death and were busy displaying their emotions, like my parents, I had something else on my mind.

I was never good at dealing with my emotions. Usually I’d just face gloomy situations with humour or sarcasm, but this was no time for such a reaction. I was focused on finding answers – finding out who, why, and how. I needed to know the details of my brother’s murder to be at peace with myself.

Who would do such a thing? Who would kill someone in their room, and leave the entire house – televisions, speakers, handbags etc., all untouched? Who would even want to hurt Luther in the first place? All these questions were bombarding my mind, so eventually I started piecing it all together.

***

Tell us: What do you think happened to Luther?