My Brother Disappeared Along The Oregon Coast, And I Think Whatever Took Him Is After My Whole Family

The image on the screen showed what I recognized as the back of my four-wheeler just ahead and Roger’s just a little bit ahead and off to the side.

The video began to play and the sparks of my bottle rockets immediately lit up the darkness of the screen and raced towards the camera. One appeared to go right past the camera, one exploded right in front of it and one looked to hit Roger right in the chest.

“There,” Calvin paused the video. “One of them did hit Roger.”

“It’s a fucking bottle rocket Cal, not a missile. That wouldn’t have sent him into the ocean,” I shot back, reached down and hit play on the GoPro.

The video kept playing. The bottle rocket exploded over by Roger, but he didn’t even slow down. He just stayed off to the left of the screen, seemingly unfazed.

“Told you, Rog is not going to be fucked up by a god damn bottle rocket.”

My gloating was interrupted by a scream from Calvin.

I looked over to see Calvin staring down at the screen of his GoPro with heavy fears in his eyes.

“What the fuck was that?” Calvin stammered.

About the author

Jack Follman

Jack has written professionally as a journalist, fiction writer, and ghost writer. For more information, visit his website.

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