by Ramy Vance
I was in one of those power poses when I noted a seagull laying two eggs on the roof across the road. Because I’m interested in stargazing (and not at all because I’m a perv), I got out my telescope to get a closer look at the little gull family and over the following weeks, I watched in wonder as one of the eggs hatched and a baby seagull emerged.
That hatchling almost immediately started walking, and I was smitten from minute one, dubbing the newborn Little Bob. Here are his first baby pics:
Over the coming weeks I watched little Bob grow, while the other egg (his baby sister, Emma) sat under his mummy’s belly, waiting for the opportune moment to hatch and enter the world.
I started to take pictures of the Gull family, precariously lining up my phone’s camera into the telescope’s viewer and clicking. I posted those pics on my author Facebook group, doing daily updates on the adventures of Little Bob and his baby sis.
It was strange, because I truly hate seagulls, but these guys … I knew them and could no longer lump them into the general bucket of ire with all other seagulls.
They were the Gulls. A family just doing their best to survive this world, just like my own family.
I really felt for them and looked forward to my morning routine when I would get a chance to check in on them.
By now I suspect you can see where this is headed. I felt for them. As in, past tense.
Things were going great, my daily updates were getting more elaborate, when one day I woke to find Little Bob missing. I immediately launched a search party (which comprised of me going into my neighbor’s yard. “Who am I, Mr. Neighbor? Why, I’m the guy who lives in the apartment across the road. You know, the guy who has a telescope trained on your home…”)
Little Bob was nowhere to be found.
And after three days, I had to assume the worse.
Little Bob was gone. And with his departure, I wrote the following eulogy in his honor:
It is with a heavy heart that I announce Bob is gone. He has been missing for three days and all efforts to find him (in my neighbor’s backyard) has led to nothing.
I do not know what happened, but given the recent magpie activity near the nest leads me to the following conclusion. Bob died defending his unhatched sister, Emma, from their predatory ways. Knowing Bob, and all he stood for, I can imagine the magpies descending on the nest and the little seagull standing his ground, crying out in the way that all seagull do, “This is my home and you will NOT hurt those I love here. Not today. Not while I breathe.”
The battle must have been fierce, with Bob ending the miserable lives of several magpies until he finally succumbed to his own wounds. And Bob being the hero that he was … he left the nest so that Mama Gull didn’t come home to her bloodied son’s body.
So, go forth, little gull, go … go to the Valhalla of Seagulls, where you will be met with open arms and the loud cackling of the gulls.
We’ll miss you, Bob. Truly we will.
(On a side note, this October I will be releasing a story, co-written with Jenn Mitchell, where Bob the Seagull will be a character.)
If you’d like to read all about Bob’s adventures you can join my Facebook group: House of the GoneGod Damned! (https://www.facebook.com/groups/495713834233271/) The Facebook page is dedicated to my other universe – the GoneGod World (series include: Mortality Bites, Mortality Bound and Keep Evolving).
Just search Bob.
He’s the only one in there.
Author Notes Michael Anderle
September 2, 2019
Thank you for reading our work. We appreciate it from the bottom of our hearts!
I’m presently typing this up as we cross the Nevada border on our way back home to Vegas. Jet lag (after a trip through Europe to China and finally back to the US) is a challenge at times. Yesterday I took an eight hour ‘nap’ all through the afternoon, only to run to find that the bulb I purchased to replace our outside front lawn light was the wrong type.
That left me twenty-three minutes to jump in the car and run to Home Depot to replace it.
Now, enough about my home-handyman foibles and more about the stories ;-)
One of the reasons I like these stories is, I’d like to think that all of the millions of hours we lose to video games could be turned into something that has value. My mind turned to saving the planet as the ultimate option that would provide the reason.
Happy trigger fingers of doom are needed. REJOICE! Grab your game controller and sign up at the nearest Middeng3ard Recruiting Station!
Further, I like the idea that many of the authors, game producers, and other content creators are in a vast conspiracy to prepare the next generation to take the fight “out there,” where you can fight for humanity, dwarves, elves, and others, and perhaps acquire magical treasure.
I’m (over) fifty, and I STILL think this sort of shit is cool.
Hey, perhaps they have healing and de-aging magical potions, and I could join the groups of magic users. In my fantasy life, I sling magic like a god, and orcs fear me joining the field of valor.
Because I’m over-powered in my stories and can lay waste to mountains.
I’d like to point out that the ease of destroying my foe has nothing to do with the fact that I’ve slept outside on the cold, hard ground in my youth, and know that I’d rather be finished with the quest in time to make it back to the inn.
I’m (very) spoiled with good mattresses vs aforementioned painful ground.
Look out for our short story, where some of your favorite authors join us in protecting Middeng3ard. If you don’t find it…
I suggest you bug the crap out of Ramy, because it lets him know you care ;-)
Ad Aeternitatem,
Michael Anderle
Other books by Ramy Vance
Mortality Bites Series
Keep Evolving Series
Books By Michael Anderle
For a complete list of books by Michael Anderle, please visit:
www.lmbpn.com/ma-books/
All LMBPN Audiobooks are Available at Audible.com and iTunes
To see all LMBPN audiobooks, including those written by Michael Anderle please visit:
www.lmbpn.com/audible
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