Matthew Brooks, a young rookie journalist working for the Portland Herald, along with his beautiful photographer partner Kelly O Hara, run head on into the mystery of their lives. As they pry open this mystery, that has been purposely kept a secret for thousands of years, they discover that knowing the truth about the past, could very well cost them their lives; the disappearance of the dinosaurs and the ancient story of a global flood, to the real identity of Jack the Ripper and the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, to the kidnap of Charles Lindbergh s son and the assassin of John F Kennedy, to the Hindenburg and the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion disasters, all possess one common thread of truth. Come along with me! Unearth the hidden secret about our past. Learn the real truth behind the history of mankind, and the truth about the Fathers of Myth.
Matthew Brooks, a young rookie journalist working for the Portland Herald, along with his beautiful photographer partner Kelly O Hara, run head on into the mystery of their lives. As they pry open this mystery, that has been purposely kept a secret for thousands of years, they discover that knowing the truth about the past, could very well cost them their lives; the disappearance of the dinosaurs and the ancient story of a global flood, to the real identity of Jack the Ripper and the disappearance of Amelia Earhart, to the kidnap of Charles Lindbergh's son and the assassin of John F Kennedy, to the Hindenburg and the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion disasters, all possess one common thread of truth. Come along with me! Unearth the hidden secret about our past. Learn the real truth behind the history of mankind, and the truth about the Fathers of Myth.
Excerpt
For me, the skill of romance can only be found in romance novels, of which I have never read. The authors of such fantasies are able to think for days or weeks before they write. When they finally write, the characters have the ability to say just the right things, at just the right time, and look great no matter where they have been or what they have been through.
I feel romantic, but I have to be realistic. I don’t know what in the world to say, and I smell like a sweaty old rag, an old rag that has been rolled in red dirt. For but a moment, I indulge in my fantasy and daydream of a perfect romantic time and place.
I imagine I am a handsome swashbuckler, sailing on an old sixteenth century Spanish galleon. In my arms is Kelly, a beautiful intoxicating maiden with obsidian black hair. Her dress is torn, and her face is slightly soiled. She is terrified, but somehow feels safe within my muscular arms.
She looks up into my face with a worshipping gaze, as I heroically fight off the ravenous beast-like men, which may have been this beautiful maiden’s fate.
As my defense I use only my sword, chivalry, the sense of being morally right, and the bitter-sweet taste of adventure of which I love. I accomplish all of this with only a few curls of my hair handsomely out of place.
My eyes give birth to a squinting smile, as I float on this flight of fantasy. I look over at Kelly and realize now, that she is not a participating passenger of my daydream.
Less than captivated by my presence, Kelly has fallen asleep on the blanket next to me, slightly snoring. My flight of fantasy has crashed and burned.
Chapter 9
I tilt my wrist toward the fire so I can look at my watch. Since it is almost 11:30, I decide to follow Kelly’s lead and try to get some sleep. As I lay on my back, the Big Dipper is suspended in the heavens before me, postured to empty its unknown stellar contents upon the earth below.
I try to make myself comfortable, but it feels like all the rocks in this god-forsaken country have now placed themselves under my back. I have no doubt it’s going to be a long, long night.
Not even realizing that I have fallen asleep, I suddenly awaken to some sort of rustling sound nearby. Focusing on the heavens above me for a second, I notice the Big Dipper is gone from the sky. Again I hear a brushing noise, and out of the corner of my eye I sense a slight movement.
I stealthily raise my head, looking over into the darkness that Kelly occupies. There before me, a dim animated shadow is hovering over Kelly, who is still sleeping soundly. Shocked with surprise I sit up, and without thinking, yell out loud,
“Hey! What do you think you are doing?”
The shadowy phantom immediately comes to attention with a startled jolt, and then quickly takes flight through the cottonwood trees like a frightened fugitive.
Kelly awakes from the commotion, trying to blink the sleep from her eyes. “What’s wrong Matt? Is something wrong?”
For some time I am silent. Kelly rises up into a sitting position, and looks at me with a stunned kind of glare. After taking a deep breath, she realizes I am not focusing upon her, but looking at something directly behind her. After analyzing my stunned expression for another second, she quickly turns around and peers behind her into the darkness. She looks behind her, then at me, back and forth.
“What are you looking at?” Her beautiful face is distorted by confusion.
“What’s wrong? Did you see something?” Her questions start to beget the tone of exasperation, because of my silence.
“I don’t see a thing. It’s nothing!”
By now I am standing up, still and silent. I take a few steps over by her side, without taking my eyes off the place the stranger made his exit into the blackness of the night.
“Matt! Matt, would you say something?”
Kelly’s appeal releases me from my dazed hypnotic state. I solemnly look down at her. Still sitting on the blanket, Kelly watches my every move I make with entreating eyes. Her patience exhausted, she tries to kindly request an answer to her questions, once again.
“What it is? What’s wrong? Did you see something?”
“It was nothing,” I say, not wanting to frighten her into a panic.
“I think I was just dreaming.”
“Don’t tell me it was nothing! “ Kelly raises her voice, starting to get a little peppery.
“You look like you’ve just seen the Grim Reaper himself. You saw or heard something. Now what was it? Tell me! ”
I glance again, back towards the place where the ghostly intruder departed into the ebony hollowness of the night. Kelly still watches every twitch I make, and imitates my questioning glance. For a moment the breeze makes its presence known again. The breeze meandering through the leaves of the trees sounds like an audience of spirits applauding our performance.
“I am so sorry I woke you up. I just had a dream, made a bunch of noise, and woke you up for nothing. Let’s just forget it and go back to sleep, if we can.”
“Matt?” She is obviously irritated at me. I sit down beside her and take both of her hands in mine.
“I’m sorry I woke you up. Let’s just forget it and get some sleep. Okay?”
Kelly furiously dumps herself onto the blanket, turns over, and shows her back to me in protest.
I’ve always been told that the desert is a place of extremes. The days are scorching hot and the nights are freezing cold. This wild wasteland is no different. I sit down beside Kelly who has fallen asleep, and fold the remainder of the blanket over her.
Starting to shiver, I scrunch up and draw my legs up close, so that I can rest my chin on my knees. I lock my arms around the front of my legs, slightly rocking in an effort to hold on to my body heat.
The fire before me has been reduced to a crowd of glowing coals. After wearily watching the cluster of glowing embers for a while, they start to become a figment of my imagination. I imagine what it would look like, peering down from heaven upon a tiny lit up city at night, a thousand flickering lights revealing its existence.
I quietly sit there, listening and watching. It is 1:30 in the morning, at least four hours till daybreak. Someone is out there in the concealment of the night; someone very interested in our presence. Maybe they are watching me right now, from some depraved and obscure vantage point.
I would act as the watchtower sentry this night, until the act of the sun rising would dissolve the obscurity of the night. Hopefully, Kelly would sleep peacefully, as peaceful as one can while sleeping on the ground.
My decision to lie to Kelly about seeing a mysterious intruder was out of compassion. Yes, I am a big fat liar. But I hope I have exchanged my virtue for her well-being. I also hope the stranger that appeared and disappeared like a mirage never materializes again.
I awake from the sudden nod of my head. Once again I have broken a promise to myself. I promised myself to stay awake no matter what.
Examining my surroundings, I see Kelly still asleep on the ground, curled up in the blanket. A pale light is signaling the birth of dawn. The dull ache of an insufficient sleep prompts me to sink my head into my hands. For a little while I close my eyes and allow myself to dwell on my discomfort.
Awake enough to hear, but too lethargic to move, I hear a slight bustling noise behind me. I sit motionless, my face still cupped into my hands. I open my eyes inside the darkness of my hands, the outside light leaking through between my fingers. I hear the sound again, this time closer. My eyes start to fleet back and forth with alarm, and I begin to have trouble breathing. Paralyzing anxiety and fear begin to take hold of me.
My father has always said that you’ve got to face your fears. I guess now is as good a time as any to see if my father was right.
Whether it is friend, or the devil himself, I decide to turn around and face my fear.
Taking my head from my hands I abruptly stand up and turn around. My arms are extended and the palms of my hands face out away from me. I look like some kind of campground policeman motioning someone to stop. As I turn around, two large Blue Jays are startled by my maneuver and fly up to a nearby tree limb. One of the feathered prowlers scolds me from its perch, and then flies off.
I collapse back down onto the ground, dumfounded. How could someone use up so much energy, and become so terrified over two stupid birds? I must be a lot wearier than I realized.
My mother used to tell me that when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted them to, I should think positive. No matter what happens in your life, you should always think of ways to be encouraging to yourself. I’ve always endeavored to put that advice into action. I’m wondering now though, how to be positive and be encouraging to myself, when I feel so stupid. I am in the middle of nowhere and have just been scared to death by two Blue Jays.
I’ve not been attacked by some ravenous beast or assaulted by some crazed highwayman. I have been terrified to the point of wetting myself because of two stupid birds. I begin to feel a little weak and exposed, although I would only admit this to myself. Thank goodness Kelly is still asleep.
The sun is starting to peek over the far off hills on the eastern horizon. I stand up and stretch, my muscles respond with aching protest. Picking up the gallon jug of water to take a drink, I find the water level in the jug to be very disturbing. There is hardly enough water for one person for one day, let alone two.
Kelly begins to stir. Still lying on the blanket, she begins to twist and contort her body, stretching it back to life. At the apex of her stretch, she makes a high-pitched groan, sounding like a woman about ready to give birth. I look at her and laugh out loud.
Professional Reviews
--Angel Editing
Richard Wyatt's novel was excellent, and totally different than anything else I have read. It was even better than I was expecting a really original idea, told well, and written in a way to maintain suspense, and keep the drama building. --Angel Editing
Elaine C McTyer
Matthew Brooks is a new reporter for the Portland Herald. He is not very happy with his boss, Lloyd Hatch, an obnoxious demanding editor. However, he is very happy to have Kelly for his photographer. But if he calls her honey or sweetheart one more time, she should clobber him. He worries about his father who is widowed and lives in Florida. At times he acts a mite juvenile and he drinks too much. He doesn't seem to have any close friends except his parrot, Cashew.
Kelly, is a wonderful photographer, but doesn't seem to have had very good luck with men. She might like Matt but has no desire to find that she admires him enough to start to see him as a person and not just another man. Both she and Matt become a bit paranoid because of the things that keep happening to them. Especially when someone tries to kill Matt on top of the Space Needle in Seattle.
Matt and Kelly become caught up in a bizarre affair that starts out with an air crash and a man who runs into Matt at the site. From there the story jerks our hero and heroine from one news story to another. Each time leaving questions in their minds about the identity of a man they keep seeing in a coat and hat. Someone thinks they know something that is to be kept secret. Suddenly accidents start happening to them and they are sure these are attempts on their lives. But who would believe them. From slashed tires on their ride that leaves them stranded in the desert in Montana, to a bomb in Portland he traverses a world filled with questions and danger.
I found the plot fasinating, well developed,
D. Blankenship
All in all, this was a rather enjoyable read. This is the type of book/story where it is rather difficult to discuss the plot without giving a whole group of spoilers. I will try not to do so. Briefly, a young, new to the job, reporter and a talented photographer, Kelly, find themselves caught up in mysteries within mysteries. As the story develops they find that there is a common connection between many of the great myths and mysteries throughout the ages. In following their news stories, they find they are haunted or followed by a dark stranger. Danger abounds and the adventures are many.
Always in the past there have been major genre such as mysteries, science fiction, action/adventure, western, etc. etc. There has, of course, always been sub-genre, such as fantasy being a sub-genre of SiFi. Recently this has been taken to new levels. The most common, and quite the most popular at present, is the "hard" science fiction and romance, which combined have gathered quite a following. To me, this mixing is great as it increases availability to more readers and creates more reader interest.
This particular work is very difficult to classify. I would place it in a science fiction/action adventure/light romance and mystery category. The author has done this well. The plot of this story is not only interesting, but displays quite a vivid imagination. The author is a very good story teller and has a very good command of the English Language. The story is fast moving, easy to understand and above all, for me, entertaining. This is one of my first qualifiers for a good read, i.e. entertaining, and this one fills the bill quite nicely.
The author has obviously put in quite a bit of research on this work and has done his job quite well. As I said, I enjoyed the book, think it a good read and do recommend it
Book eight in my Belinda Lawrence Classic Mysteries. Mysteries confront amateur sleuths, Belinda Lawrence and Hazel Whitby in the Somerset village of Milford.
Among the eccentrics is the shadowy Madam Malefic.
