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

The sight of the headlight of my four wheeler scanning the incoming waves of the rising tide sent shivers down my spine. I felt like I was looking for a dead body, but tried to push the thoughts back. Roger was probably either fucking with us, or already went back to the campsite. He was probably already halfway into a pint of Rich & Rare with a smoke in his mouth.

I went about 500 yards up the beach with the closest thing to a sign of life I saw being a few dead jellyfish drying out in the moonlight. I raced back to where Calvin and I split up as fast as I could, hoping I wouldn’t lose my other brother as well.

I couldn’t have been more relieved when I saw Calvin waiting for me on the beach back where we split up.

“Didn’t see anything,” Calvin announced as soon as I shut off my engine. “What about you?”

I shook my head, no.

“He’s probably just back at camp already, getting drunk,” Calvin insisted.

I was pretty sure Calvin was right, but something inside me still felt wrong.

Either way, I agree with a nod and fired my engine back up. I took off back up the bluff to where our camp site was set up.

Unfortunately, Roger was not sitting in his camo camping chair, chomping on fine cut and sipping cheap whiskey back at the camp site. The only thing waiting for us was what little food we brought strewn around the site by some kind of animal which gorged itself on Funyuns and beef jerky before taking off into the brush.

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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