Too Late For Dinner

Luke Porter prided himself on being the sensible one, the “normal” one. It was a title he wore quietly, a silent shield against his younger brother Colton’s peculiarities. Growing up in the quiet central Missouri town of Oakwood, he always thought of his brother’s strange quirks as harmless oddities.

Colton had always been a bit… different. Where Luke saw the world in practical terms, Colton tended to romanticize darker, morbid details. His fascination with violent documentaries, tales of survival, and even an obsession with “the hunger of predators” seemed more like an eccentric phase than anything serious. Luke thought it was just Colton’s way of standing out, a pushback against Oakwood’s sleepy routines and orderly predictability.

But over time, what he dismissed as quirks started to escalate in ways that Luke couldn’t ignore.

The first red flag came when they were teenagers the day Colton brought home a stray dog. It was scrappy and sickly, and though Colton nursed it back to health, there was something strange in the way he talked about the dog. “The creature knows its own flesh,” he had said, cradling the dog as if it were a rare, exotic pet. Luke brushed off the comment, chalking it up to Colton’s love for poetry and abstract thoughts. But then Colton started bringing home animal bones from the woods, arranging them in unsettling little patterns around his house, claiming they were “markers of life.”

The boys grew into men. Luke got married but Colton never did. In fact, he was never seen near a woman. After the brother’s parents died, Colton remained as the sole occupant of the ramshackle house in which they had grown up. 

Luke and his wife Karen moved into what passed for a reasonable home in Oakwood and they were eventually blessed with two children, a boy and a girl. As strange as his brother was, however, Luke was not going to walk away from Colton. So he would insist that his family go visit “Uncle Colt” at least once or twice a month.

When Karen mentioned the odd smell that often came from Colton’s kitchen, Luke defended his brother. Colton had always been an experimental cook, after all. Karen was less forgiving.

“It’s not normal,” she said. “Colton keeps getting weirder all the time. Maybe you need to talk to him?”

But Luke, loyal to a fault, dismissed her concerns. “He’s just going through a phase,” he assured her. “You know how he is.”

Luke admitted to himself, however, that Colton had been going through that difficult phase ever since he could remember.

As the months passed, Colton grew more reclusive, more intense. Rumors started circulating around Oakwood. Neighbors spoke of strange howling sounds from his house at night. Someone claimed to have seen Colton lurking in the woods near the edge of town, moving with the silent predation of an animal. Even his closest friends began keeping their distance. But Luke, holding on to his title as the sensible brother, continued to ignore the signs.

One day, Luke decided to visit Colton unannounced. He pulled up to the neglected family home just as the sun was setting, casting a dim orange glow over the peeling paint and unkempt yard. He knocked, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked, so he let himself in.

Inside, the place was suffused with a strange, pungent smell, a mixture of copper and earth. The walls were lined with books on obscure subjects—cannibalistic rituals, survival tactics, human anatomy. Luke’s stomach twisted as he walked through the rooms, catching glimpses of disturbing sketches pinned to the walls: human figures depicted in visceral, raw poses, contorted in ways that seemed impossible, even cruel.

Luke finally reached a door that was partially open, revealing a dimly lit room. Inside, he saw Colton’s journal, lying open on a desk. Luke’s hands shook as he flipped through its pages, finding accounts that ranged from musings on survival instincts to bizarre, fragmented stories about hunger and flesh. In the margins, Colton had scribbled cryptic notes: “The flesh carries power. To consume is to understand.”

Luke staggered back, the words sinking into his mind with a horrifying clarity. Suddenly, every peculiar comment, every odd action flashed before him like puzzle pieces falling into place. He’d spent years dismissing his brother’s darkness, but now he realized he was staring into it.

Just then, he heard the front door open and close. Colton was back.

Luke’s heart pounded as he forced himself to confront his brother, grabbing the journal and stepping into the hallway. Colton stood there, barely acknowledging Luke’s presence, his face blank, his eyes distant.

“What is this, Colton?” Luke demanded, holding up the journal. “This… this can’t be real.”

Colton tilted his head, as if considering his brother’s question with an odd, detached curiosity. “What did you think I was, Luke? Just your harmless, quirky brother?”

His words sent a chill down Luke’s spine.

“People don’t understand,” Colton continued, almost whispering. “There’s a power in hunger. A truth in the act of consuming. Flesh sustains flesh.”

“You’re scaring me, Colton,” Luke said, voice trembling. “This… this isn’t normal.”

“Normal?” Colton scoffed, the familiar tone of mockery twisting his mouth into a dark smile. “Normal is just blindness, Luke. You’ve been blind to the truth this whole time.”

Luke took a step back, his stomach turning as the reality set in. He wasn’t looking at his eccentric brother. He was looking at a man who had crossed a line he could barely understand. The brother he’d known all his life seemed to have disappeared, replaced by someone—something—unfathomably sinister. A man – no a monster – who could contemplate eating human flesh.

Without another word, Luke turned and left the house, his mind reeling. He couldn’t believe it—refused to believe it. But the images from the journal, the things Colton had said, haunted him, lingering at the edges of his thoughts, clawing at his denial.

That night, he couldn’t sleep. Every sound, every shadow outside his window felt like a threat. Karen tried to comfort him, but all Luke could do was replay every memory of Colton, every moment he’d brushed off as harmless. His ignorance now seemed like a grave mistake. What if Colton had truly done something unforgivable? And worse, what if others had been hurt because of Luke’s refusal to act?

The next morning, he heard the news: a body had been discovered on the edge of town, its condition too gruesome to detail in the papers and certainly mutilated to a degree that made it impossible to identify easily.

A cold dread settled over Luke as he read the brief description. The damage inflicted on the body was horrifyingly similar to the sketches he’d seen in Colton’s room, the very same images that had seemed like mere fantasy the night before.

Unable to bear the guilt, Luke drove to the police station. He didn’t want to believe his own brother was capable of something so monstrous, but he knew he couldn’t keep silent any longer. He told the shocked officers about Colton’s behavior, the strange symbols, the disturbing journals, and his escalating fascination with violence.

As Luke spoke, the chief of the small force, Doug Bradshaw, sat across from him in the interview room, his mask a face of distress and disgust at what Luke was telling him.

Days passed, and Colton’s home was searched, his journals and sketches confiscated. But Colton was nowhere to be found. It was as if he had simply vanished into the woods he loved, leaving only his chilling legacy behind. Luke felt hollow, haunted by the knowledge that his blind loyalty had shielded a monster from justice.

A week after Colton had disappeared, Luke received a call from Chief Bradshaw.

“This is hard but I thought you ought to know,” the chief began. “We had some help with the forensics from the Feds and we’ve identified the body. It was Sally Miggins.”

Luke thought he was going to be sick as a new wave of revulsion rose up inside his body.

Sally Miggins was a kindly old lady that everyone n Oakwood knew. She must have been in her nineties by now. Although Luke had not really spoken to her much in recent years, she had already been old when Luke and Colton were growing up. With their own grandparents not in the picture, the boys had briefly called Mrs. Miggins their “granny.”

How could Colton have done this to such a pure and good-natured soul? He truly was a demon, Luke thought.

Months later, Luke tried to pick up the pieces of his shattered life, but he was forever changed. Every dark corner, every quiet moment felt like a reminder of Colton’s twisted presence. He had nightmares, dreams of Colton’s face staring at him with that same cold smile, his words echoing in his mind: “Normal is just blindness.”

In those quiet moments, Luke’s mind played cruel tricks on him. Sometimes he’d hear footsteps outside his house, or see a shadow moving near his window. Once, he swore he saw Colton’s silhouette lingering just outside, watching him with those same, hungry eyes. But when he’d run outside, there’d be no one there—just an eerie silence.

Despite a manhunt across Missouri and national media coverage, the authorities never did find Colton. His disappearance remained one of the most notorious unsolved FBI and state police cold cases. The tabloid newspapers delighted in calling him the “Missouri Cannibal.”

Various theories were floated about what may have become of him. Some believed that he had perished in the freezing woods at night, or drowned in the Mississippi River. Others thought he may have escaped to some exotic locale. Perhaps somewhere like Papua New Guinea where his dietary preferences might be more accepted.

Eight years later, Luke still lived in Oakwood, a shell of the man he once was. He’d given up trying to explain to anyone the depths of his regret or the hollowness that had taken root inside him. Colton’s darkness had seeped into his life, leaving him haunted by the weight of what he’d failed to see until it was far too late.

One day, when Karen was out with the kids, Luke got a call on his cellphone. It was an out of state number that he didn’t recognize. Normally, he would have just ignored the spam caller. But as he heard he ringing and saw the call flashing on his iPhone, he felt a strange compulsion come over him. It was as though he was in a trance as he lifted the phone to his ear.

“Luke Porter here.”

“Hello bro, it’s me!”

Luke thought he was going to pass out. He was speechless. Again, however, he felt strangely compelled to listen to the voice on the other end of the phone, when his better angels were telling him to hang up immediately.

“Just wondered if you would like a bit of dinner?” said his brother.

Luke tried to speak. At first the words wouldn’t come out. When they did, he had no comprehension of what he said and why.

“I thought you’d never ask.”