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

I watched the orb try to get out of the way, but it didn’t have time. The truck had quickly roared up to 50 miles per-hour and the orb was shit out of luck. I felt a heavy impact smack upon the front of the hulking mass of Roger’s F-350 and no longer saw the mysterious ball.

I felt good about my chances of getting out of there when my headlights flickered back on. I kept the gas mashed and roared down the dusty road which led away from the dunes, the track, and hopefully the orb which had been torturing me for the last hour or so. I couldn’t have been happier than to assume I had the blue guts of that piece of shit splattered all over the grill of the truck like an unlucky possum.

The miraculous return of the headlights didn’t seem to help Calvin’s situation in the passenger seat. I looked over and saw blue, creamy bubbles seeping from his mouth and onto the hood of his sweatshirt. I jammed my foot further into the rubber of the gas pedal even though I knew the speed of the truck was maxed out.

My eyes on Calvin, I didn’t notice the truck had finally rumbled up onto the paved country road which led out to the dunes. The truck caught serious air and then pounded back to earth and threw everything around the cabin, including un-seatbelted Calvin and I.

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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