The Astorian Horror

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
Dean, once a religious man travels to the small town of Astoria, Oregon for his brother Randy. Randy says there's something in the town, something evil, not of this world.

Submitted: January 09, 2014

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Submitted: January 09, 2014

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“What should we do about our pest problem Anthony?”

“I don’t know Randy maybe we should call an exterminator,” Anthony replied chuckling.

“Damn it, you know this is serious! What are we going to do about this? We can’t let this thing terrorize our community anymore!”

“Excuse me for trying to lighten the fucking mood! You know that nobody is going to come here, especially after we tell them what is actually happening.”

“Why don’t we look for a paranormal expert?”

“We’re not dealing with some damn ghost Randy! That creature is flesh and blood; nothing we have done so far has even scared it. All we’ve been able to do is piss the thing off more.”

“I know who we can call,” Randy said as he walked over to where his phone lay.

“Why didn’t you know who to call before, you ass?”

“I don’t talk to him, ok? We haven’t been on the best of terms for the past few years.”

“Who is it?”

“My brother Dean. We haven’t spoken since our mom died,” Randy replied sadly.

“Why? What was the problem?”

“I’ll explain later.”

Randy dialed his brother's number, waiting impatiently as the line began to ring.

The shrilly ringing phone sat near the bottle of vodka, nearly empty now, as Dean Kessler lay in bed, drunk and disgusted with the world. Damn them all! People make me sick with all their corruption and lies! A hateful yell erupted from him as he sat up in the bed. Grabbing the bottle, he threw it across the room, sending it shattering into the wall.

 Dean was once a priest; he was an honest, joyful man speaking to others about the word of god and his love. Sadly, when his mother passed away from lung cancer, Dean's belief in God died with her. Dean had denounced God for taking away the woman who had cared for and loved him his whole life, and he didn’t want anything to do with religion or his brother Randy, who had deserted their mother when she was in need of him the most. Not a day goes by that Dean didn’t think of his hatred towards God and his own brother. There is no forgiveness for what they did to her, but Dean knew deep down, in some way he still loved his little brother.

 His phone continued to vibrate, and anger rose in him as he looked at the caller I.D. Why is he calling me? A morbid curiosity drove Dean to answer his phone.

“What the fuck do you want?”

“So, I’m guessing you’re still mad?”

“You bet your ass I am, you bastard.” His words began to slur as he continued to yell. “You left me and mom when we were in a desperate time of need, you selfish son of a bitch! Do you have any idea what it was like having to see her in that much pain? You piece of shit, how dare you call me after all these years?”

“You’re drunk, Dean. Will you please just listen to me?”

“Why exactly should I listen to your bullshit?.”

“Look there’s something going on here; I don’t know how to explain it. There’s something in this town. It’s pure evil, and I was thinking that since you were a priest that you might have an idea of what this thing might be.”

“What are you talking about, Randy?” Dean asked, becoming curious with what his brother told him in spite of his anger.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but, there’s some creature here slaughtering animals, and it has even killed some of the citizens.”

“Are you sure it’s not just some crazed animal?”

“I don’t think a crazed animal is smart enough to hang a skinned human in the middle of the street for everyone to see.”

“Then it’s gotta be some sick twisted killer. Get the cops to handle it.”

“That’s what we thought at first, then we saw it two weeks ago prowling the street during the night. It isn’t human Dean. This creature whatever the hell it is, it walks like a man It has this sickly, waxy, pale skin, and all the veins run like writhing blue worms beneath it. It's skull looks fleshless, no cheeks or lips or any human characteristics. And the teeth! They're elongated, sharp; they look like curved sewing needles crowding for space in its gaping mouth. It's horrifying, Dean! What's worse is its eyes. Yellow eyes that glow like lamplight, backed by the fires of hell. Please Dean you have to believe me I’m not making this up!” Randy finished his story, sobbing into the phone

“Calm down, for fucks sake Randy. Look just tell me where you live and I’ll head there tomorrow, but only to show you that you’re wrong, and that you’re a dumbass.”

“Dean I’m not lying to you I can promise you that, but thank you.”

“Yeah no problem. Now where do you live?”

“Astoria, Oregon.”

“You’re shitting me?”

“No why?” Randy asked, suddenly worried Dean would change his mind.

“I live in Portland. See you in the morning, little brother,” Dean replied before hanging up.

The two hour drive felt like days to Dean. His hangover was not as bad as he expected, but he did have to pull over once so he could puke. He arrived at the address his brother had texted him early that morning. A white two story house sat on top of the hill, paint peeling off the side. Reluctantly, Dean knocked on the door. Fast footsteps were heard as he waited; the door swung open, and there stood Randy.

“Hi Dean,” he said quietly.

“Alright, Randy, just tell me the plan.”

“Uh, well we don’t actually have a plan,” he replied as Dean entered his home.

“Ugh, are you kidding me? Why the hell did I even come then?” Dean asked, annoyed.

“Look, let’s just sit down and figure something out.”

They sat down for most of the day and finally Dean came up with a solution. Dean wanted to walk through the town at night; he was still skeptical about there being some sort of monster. Randy tried to talk him out of it for a good hour but Dean had his mind set.

“Will you at least take a knife, or a gun?” Randy pleaded.

“No, you know I don’t like that kind of shit, so quit bugging me about it!” Dean snapped.

“At least wear this,” said Randy holding up Dean’s old cross necklace.

“Don’t even fucking try it!” Dean yelled turning to face his brother.

“Please Dean,” Randy began, but was cut short.

“No! Fuck Him, and fuck you for trying to get me to have faith in him again! He doesn’t deserve it.” An anger rose in him as he stared at the necklace.

“Okay, I’m sorry, I just want you to be safe that’s all.”

“I’ll be fine, I’m gonna show you that you don’t to be afraid of anything, there’s probably nothing out there anyway.”

“Then why are you even here if you didn’t believe me?”

Dean tried to talk past the lump in his throat, “Because Randy no matter how much I’m pissed off at you, I do love you little brother. I just want you to see that there are no such things as monsters, even though you should know that already.”

With that they both fell silent, and Dean continued to dress warm for the night ahead.

 

Dean stood in the middle of the one way street facing the large green bridge that led to Washington, the restaurant Pig N’ Pancake on the left of him, and the Holiday Inn Express at his right. Seeing the Pig N’ Pancake made him hungry, “Man I could sure go for a fucking pancake right now, or some pie.”  A smile spread across his face as he thought about food, instead of alcohol for the first time in a long while.

It was now midnight and Dean believed himself to be prepared for anything that would come.

“Well, nothing so far,” Dean spoke aloud, sarcastically.

He began to walk down the street and started to whistle the creepy tune from Jeepers Creepers, kind of fitting for the foggy night. A chuckle escaped him as he thought to himself, man I really came all the way here for this? I must be as crazy as my brother. Dean heard footsteps echoing behind him, but when he spun around, he saw nothing but fog and mist. Your minds playing tricks on you, Dean. He thought to himself. A moment later, a spine tingling sound came from behind him: a roar that not of this world surfaced from the depths of the fog.

Dean panicked and began to run for any safety he could find. After ten minutes of running he reached an unlocked, abandoned house. Shit! What do I do? Dean was lost, his mind clouded with confusion, he couldn’t grasp that this was really happening. Quickly snapping back into reality Dean slammed the door and locked it. Something began to scratch the other side; it sounded as if it were carving into the wood, then silence. Dean's breathing grew heavy, as he backed into the pitch black hallway.

The door burst open to reveal the creature which just the other night his brother had described to him. Saliva dripped from its deformed mouth as it stared at Dean with a deep hunger for flesh. The beast swung once with its right clawed hand, knocking Dean unconscious.

He kicked at the beast freeing himself, but only for a moment. Within seconds the beast was on top of him clawing away at his chest. Dean kicked the creature off, quickly stood up, and started throwing punches left and right. Adrenaline rushed through Dean as each hit connected with the beast, after many hits Dean used all his might and connected his fist with the jaw of the monster, breaking it and sending it to the ground.

“How’d you like that? Yeah motherfucker!”

To Dean’s horror the creature turned slowly looking at Dean as it popped its jaw back into place.

“No fucking way.”

The Demon grabbed Dean with a fury and threw him against the rock making him disoriented.  The sounds of flesh being ripped from bone, accompanied with howls of terror were heard echoing throughout the cave and beyond as Dean was consumed alive bit by bit.

Two weeks later a funeral service was held for Dean. Randy, consumed by guilt for the death of his brother had tried to kill himself the week prior by going out into the town at midnight, but could not find the monster. Randy reached up to wipe the tears from his face, and something caught his eye in the distance. Struck with horror, he stood there helplessly as he stared at his brothers crudely severed head staring towards him from the tree line, a long handmade spear was stuck through it. Hatred flowed through Randy and maddening screams of anger bellowed forth from him.


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