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

My heart stuttered. I hadn’t seen my dad since he was withered and dying in a hospital bed a few years before. I hadn’t seen him at the dunes in what had to be 10 years. The sight of him, let alone, him and Roger, froze my entire body. The truck eased to a complete stop in the middle of the road and the two men who were closest to me in life slowly walked in my direction.

I didn’t give a fuck if they were dead, if they were zombies which would tear out my neck like hungry polar bears, or if they were some kind of aliens. Just the image of my dad and Roger walking together, at the dunes, was enough to draw tears from my eyes and make me want to stay. I suddenly wanted to go right back to camp, relight the fire, cook some pork and beans, and drink beer.

My mind toyed with the thought of getting out of the car. My hand rested on the gear shifter, wanted to push it up into park, but I just couldn’t do it. Something was off about the two of them on top of me knowing my dad was dead and thinking there was a good chance Roger was as well. The two of them seemed to shine in the night, like glowing bulbs, like beacons.

I fought through the tears and the heartache just enough to scan my dad and Roger’s faces and it was the final straw. I needed to hammer down and get Calvin to the fucking hospital. Forget about this spooky shit. Calvin was the only one I could save now.

About the author

Jack Follman

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

More From Thought Catalog