Of Unknown Origin

By Trisha O'Keefe

Scientists have incomprehensible theories about parallel universes, ripples in time, relativity, and probability. Ordinary people think, while any of those theories is possible, strange events are just our own imagination messing with our heads, a reaction to drugs—legal or illegal—fate, or merely coincidence. Of Unknown Origin is a collection of stories based on actual incidents which defy explanation or, at the very least, logical explanations. They could be examples of any one of the above theories. Call them mysterious or a brush with the supernatural or just plain coincidence, these stories will give the reader something to think about or, at least, to be aware to of the next time they encounter something of unknown origin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Black Opal Books
• Release date: Mar 25, 2017
• ISBN: 9781626946361

Trisha O'Keefe

Trisha O’Keefe calls herself a gypsy scholar, having lived and traveled at home and abroad for most of her life. “Until my mother asked me how I was actually going to make a living. Leave it to mothers to do reality checks.” Since coming back to the States, she has authored six books. The first, The Bard Rocks, was for young adults. The second, Hanahatchee, was nominated for Georgia’s Author of the Year Award. Poseidon’s Eye and Lovesong of the Chinaberry Man are due out in 2015. The Magi’s Well is slated for 2016 as is The People of the Mama Tree. A seventh novel is in the pipeline, she says. Meanwhile, Ms. O’Keefe keeps her day job teaching high school, and fulfilling speaking engagements. “I miss traveling around the world, but it’s less of a hassle to let my characters do it. And cheaper!”

Book preview

Scientists have incomprehensible theories about parallel universes, ripples in time, relativity, and probability. Ordinary people think, while any of those theories is possible, strange events are just our own imagination messing with our heads, a reaction to drugs—legal or illegal—fate, or merely coincidence. Of Unknown Origin is a collection of stories based on actual incidents which defy explanation or, at the very least, logical explanations. They could be examples of any one of the above theories. Call them mysterious or a brush with the supernatural or just plain coincidence, these stories will give the reader something to think about or, at least, to be aware of the next time they encounter something of unknown origin.

KUDOS FOR OF UNKNOWN ORIGIN

In Of Unknown Origins by Trisha O’Keefe, we have fourteen short stories by this talented author. The stories are all completely different, except that they all deal with the paranormal or unexplained phenomenon. From a newlywed couple struggling to get by in the suburbs, to a mountaintop in Tibet, to the courtrooms of Greece, these clever tales will enlighten and entertain. O’Keefe has outdone herself to choose tales that are heartwarming, intriguing, and thought-provoking for a truly entertaining read. I loved it! ~ Taylor Jones, The Review Team of Taylor Jones & Regan Murphy

Of Unknown Origins by Trisha O’Keefe is a collection of short stories, fourteen in all, that all have something to do with the unexplained. From The Man Who Wasn’t There and The Battle of Taylor Springs, to The House on the Hill and Mr. Angel, the author takes on a light-hearted, thought-provoking romp into the Unknown. Filled with delightful characters, vivid imagery, and interesting theories, Of Unknown Origins will keep you guessing and make you go, Hummm… Marvelous. ~ Regan Murphy, The Review Team of Taylor Jones & Regan Murphy

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to say thanks to Helen, who gave me the title for this book; Faith, my long-suffering editor; and all the staff at Black Opal. Thanks for putting up with me.

Of Unknown Origin

Trisha O’Keefe

A Black Opal Books Publication

Copyright © 2017 by Trisha O’Keefe

Cover Design by Jackson Cover Designs

All cover art copyright © 2017

All Rights Reserved

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-626946-36-1

Chapter 1

THE MAN WHO CAME FROM NOWHERE

Melissa had only been married three months, much of which had been spent in motels until, at last, they found an apartment in half of an empty duplex. It was at the very edge of the small town, but the young couple didn’t care. They had just moved out of graduate school housing, where you could practically hear the neighbors breathing through the cardboard walls. She and Bruce happily set up their barbeque pit in the backyard, which opened out on a farm field, and bought a picnic table at a yard sale to go with it. Melissa even started a little garden, to which Bruce had promised to add an addition that weekend. But he was called to corporate headquarters back east in New York, half a continent away.

She drove him to the airport, trying to look brave. It was the first time they had been apart since they were married. It’s like I’m being torn in half, she said, gulping the tears back.

I wish we could afford two tickets, but we spent so long in motels, you know. His finger traced her lips. Honey, I’ll be back before you know it. Maybe even this weekend. Then I’ll dig up that garden plot for the corn and stuff. I’ll save up my per diem and get us some real nice steaks. And we’ll have vodka collins, how’s that?

Oh, no, you don’t go shorting yourself just so you can buy expensive steaks. We’ll have hot dogs and beer just like always. Just come home as soon as you can. I’ll miss you so bad, it hurts already. Call me, she begged as he got out of the car.

Promise, he said, blowing her a kiss.

Melissa cried all the way home, actually blubbering so long at one stoplight that a chorus of horns snapped her out of it. When she got home at the end of road, two little dogs ran out of the carport barking. Figuring they belonged to neighbors in the next block, she planned to give them a treat next time she saw them. She watched them tear up the road, wishing they had stayed around to make friends. Living in a motel was no place for an animal, but Bruce had promised her that, when they were settled, she could send for Bailey, her dog that she had left with her mom.

The crushing loneliness set in as soon as she opened the door and smelled the bacon she had fried that morning for Bruce. In order not to have a complete meltdown so early in the day, she turned on the TV and the CD player at the same time. Making herself a cup of coffee, she hurried upstairs without looking at the rumpled bed, changed into shorts, and put on an exercise video to complete the cacophony of noise.

That passed the morning. At noon, she called her mom who would be on her lunch hour back home. The familiar voice answered, Hi, baby, how’s it going?

That was all it took. Melissa burst into tears. After a half-hour conversation spent reassuring her mother she hadn’t married an axe murderer, she hung up, feeling mildly comforted. Social contact helped combat the awful loneliness, so Melissa decided to pay a visit to the small library in town. During the motel days, she had made friends with one of the younger librarians and, needing someone to talk to and something to read, she had found both in Sharon.

So the day passed, but when night fell and the town shut its doors, she finally had to go home. Melissa made herself an egg sandwich, took her book, an apple, and box of chocolate cookies and retreated to her bed. After a phone call from Bruce, she fell asleep with the light on.

In the middle of the night, the little dogs were back, raising hell outside her carport. She raised the bedroom window and told them to be quiet, figuring that would do it. It didn’t, and it seemed nothing would. She put on her robe, went downstairs, and turned on the outside light which Bruce had told her to do, in spite of the electric bill.

Hey, go home! she shouted. Shoo!

The two scoundrels beat it up the road, but she remained there for a little longer, looking up at the wide canopy of stars. The dogs came back again and again, tearing up the road when she came out the front door. Finally, she fell asleep with cotton in her ears, a trick she had learned in the graduate school housing.

In the morning, she planned her schedule before she even got out of bed: put in a load of wash, exercise to the video, make herself a strawberry protein shake, hang the wash on the line in the back yard, wash the car—dirt seemed to cling to it—do something in the garden—watch the plants grow—and, in the afternoon, head back to the library.

Filled with determination, she put on her shorts and halter top, going through her routine like an athlete getting ready for a marathon. When the wash was done, she carried the basket out to the clothesline, thinking some poor stiff before her had the exactly same feeling that she had landed on a different planet.

He literally rose up from the weeds.

As she bent over to pull a wet sheet out of her basket and struggled to lift it by its corners, Melissa became aware there was a man standing at the edge of the pasture not ten feet from her, a tall, heavyset young man, and he was laughing. It was as if he were saying, I’ve got you now and you can’t do anything about it.

Her first urge was to scream, but a voice in her head stopped her. Don’t scream! rang out loud and clear. As she straightened up to hang a piece of laundry, the man came barreling out of the weeds. In the same instant, Melissa lifted the heavy laundry basket and threw it directly in his path so that he stumbled over it.

Pivoting on one foot like a dancer, she took off running for the house, but he was advancing so fast with longer strides that she could hear him panting behind her. But she made it to the nearest door which she had left open, slammed it in his face, latching the screen just a split second before he grasped the handle.

There was a window beside it, and he ripped off the screen while she threw the deadbolt on the door and rushed to lock the window. That brought her face to face with her attacker and he had the same crazy grin, laughing at her ashen face. She went from window to window seeing if they were locked, with him just a second behind her. All he would have to do is get a rock and smash a pane of glass to reach the lock but he was looking for