Blue Brothers

A story is in the title, someone once told me that. Or, I think I just made it up. Titles fascinate me. They reveal so much, yet, so little. Always teasing, yet, not revealing. Bold, yet shy. Misleading, yet making sense, eventually. Building dread, yet comforting. Inviting, yet rejecting.

I am rarely impatient. Yet, a good deceptive title infuriates me. I hungrily devour books whose titles are difficult to understand. I wait, and wait, and wait some more for them to make sense. Some hint, why, the story is so named.

Some stories are so intricately woven that I do not realize what the title meant until I read the last word. A sense of realization then dawns upon me, like the first ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds after a dark stormy day. Everything is clear then, a sense of peace envelopes me. I feel I somehow knew all along what the title meant. I smile at my impatience, promising to read again with more patience.

My brother was not unlike me. We would read stories together, always ensuring that we never talked about the end until both of us finished reading. Later, we enjoyed discussing, often arguing about which part of the story we enjoyed more. Such stories formed a magical part of our lives, building an unbreakable bond and trust in each other.

However, yesterday was different. I broke an unwritten rule that we had respected throughout our lives. I had read a fascinating tale about two brothers, who stood by each other throughout their lives. They grew up together in happiness, and passed through life’s trials, always knowing the other was looking out for them. Always loyal, always trusting, the brothers never lost faith in each other. Until the end, when one tragically kills the other.

The story was one of the best I had ever read. The title had infuriated me as I read with frantic pace trying to understand what it really meant. And the end, it was glorious, the last piece of a puzzle that began with a maddeningly deceptive title.

I promised to my brother to narrate the story to him as he lay on his deathbed, fighting a losing cause valiantly. I knew the end was near, but wanted to prolong it as much as I could, and read the story as slow as I could. I did not want it to end, believing it would not just be the end of my narration, but the end of my brother’s life.

However, I was wrong. My brother was not strong enough, and my narration was not fast enough for me to reach the end in time. Soon, he knew it was too late, and it was time to say goodbye. As a last request, he asked me to narrate the end before he reached his last breath. I then broke our golden rule and told him the nd.

He smiled teary-eyed at me as he understood what it all meant now. A serene smile before he slipped away into an everlasting sleep, engulfing me in deep sadness. Life, would never be the same again.

My name is Blue, and I killed my brother.

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