OnTheGoWithAmyO.

"Live The Life You've Imagined." ~Thoreau

Archive for the tag “ShortStory”

Following “A Feeling” – Saving A Life

Do you ever just *feel* like you’re supposed to be someplace, and even though you initially resist, you go anyway, only to realize there was definitely a reason for your being drawn there?

10262015_OTGWAO_ARKSeagullRescue_Posted

Earlier this week, I went in search of a new location to take photos of the full moon rising.

First stop was the Marina, but I didn’t like the view of the horizon. Next, I drove to a pier, but it was too crowded.

Instead, the “feeling” led me down a deserted side road with a great view of the horizon, but after setting up my tripod, I kept hearing rustling coming from down in the gaps of the large red jetty rocks. Upon closer inspection, I spotted a scared, injured trapped seagull.

Fortunately, the renowned wildlife rescue facility on Mustang Island was just up the road, so without hesitation, I ran to get help.

The professionals came quickly, and it was an easy catch for them. They said the injured seagull’s wings were sorely battered, where s/he had probably been trying to get out of there all day. Luckily, they expect the seagull to make a full recovery after some TLC & rest.

There’s no doubt “Intuition” led me to that deserted spot this evening, and there’s one lucky little bird with one heck of a guardian angel.

After all, angels have wings, too.

By the way, here is one of the photos I got of the full moon, complete with a pelican may have witnessed entire rescue scene.

86_BestSeatInTheHouse_Draft

Advertisements

TREE FROG IN THE RV – AUGHHHHH!

This little “escapee” will soon be returning to home to East Texas after finding his way *inside* my RV this morning!

So how did this little tree frog end up hundreds of miles away at the beach in Port Aransas, Texas?

09252015_TreeFrogBESTIt all started when I was staying in Livingston a few months back. I’d see this little tree frog sticking to the RV windows at night, catching “bug dinners” thanks to the bright interior lights.

A few days before I left Livingston, I kept pulling this tree frog off the RV and sticking him on a nearby tree; however, by the next evening, this sticky bug catcher would be back on my rig!

“You can’t come with me,” I’d say.

He proved me wrong.

About a week after I set up here in Port Aransas, I saw Mr. Tree Frog sticking on the bunkhouse slide out.

“Surely not!” I thought, but alas, it was.

From that point on, my evening ritual included making small water puddles for him (and the local toads) as I watered my outside plants.

Often, I’d see him sticking on the side of my RV slide out, waiting for the water and bounty of bugs that followed.

Twice, he was perched on my utility hookups, as if waiting for the nightly “faux rain shower.” He was not scared of me, and would even allow me to lightly drizzle him with water from the hose.

It was an agreeable set up, but now, less than a week away from moving to a new RV Resort on the beach, I was worried that he’d get left behind or worse – a meal for a hungry seagull.

This morning, I was awakened by commotion in the rig!

The cats were after something and, trying to quickly shake off sleep, I ran to the kitchen to find out what they had found.

It was the little frog, sitting in the middle of a ring of cats.

The little frog was completely unharmed, and most likely untouched. My guess is the kitties tried to touch him, and his stickiness freaked them out.

I quickly scooped him up, dressed, and drove him over to ARK (Animal Rehabilitation Keep). ARK is the place that rescues all those baby sea turtles you see in the news, plus injured seagulls and other wounded marine life.

They took him in, and after identifying his species, informed me that tree frogs are in fact not native to the area.

Luckily, one of the staff members has family in the Houston area, and will soon be transported back to Deep East Texas (they took the information of where he originated). In the meantime, this lucky little frog will be kept safe and sound, with all the fruit flies he can eat!

I know it sounds silly, but I feel like this little tree frog and I had become… well, friends. Sadly, much like with ET (from the movies), it’s time for this visitor to go back *home* – to his own kind, to his own world.

Good luck, little tree frog friend. You’ll always be a special memory from my RV travel days!

Short Story: “Mystery of the Sandy Sunglasses”

“Mystery of the Sandy Sunglasses”

The broken evidence washed in on high tide on a gray and chilly morning of February 2015, landing itself on Mustang Island, Texas.

02162015_80sDrunkGirlGlassesI observed the glasses and wondered, “Who owned these? How long had they been drifting along the Texas Gulf Coast?”

As if I were a clairvoyant or paranormal medium, a vision formed in my mind of a tipsy, bikini-wearing underage Spring Breaker from the late 80s, sporting stiff big hair stiff thanks to half a can of hairspray, and feeling very sexy with her brand new sunglasses.

Impaired by the empty bottle of Boone’s Hill Strawberry Farm next to her hot pink and white beach towel, she pranced out into the water to frolic. Her goal? Attempting, in vain, to get the attention of the obnoxious college dudes taking turns chugging cheap alcohol from a crude beer bong.

Distracted by her own loud, attention-seeking squeals of fun, a wave hit her from behind, sending her face first into the foamy salt water. She emerged, gasping for air and trying to reposition her cool sunglasses back on her face. She was coughing gritty seawater out of her lungs when another wave smacked the in the back, knocking her off her feet.

She groped around in the water for the sunglasses, but they were gone.

Whoops of laughter and concerned calls from her friends could be heard coming from the shoreline, but darn it if those weren’t her favorite pair! She like totally spent $12 on them!

So, since her hair was now ruined and her buzz long gone no thanks to the dunk in the Texas Gulf, she braved the battery of on-coming waves to fish blindly and determinedly with her hands and legs for her sunglasses.

After many unsuccessful tries, she decided she reasonably decided what she needed now was a hot shower, some Funions, a nap, then rack up daddy’s credit card at Pat Magee’s Surf Shop. Maybe she might even find a new pair of sunglasses.

The End

(c) Amy Oakley, 1027 Productions

Is This Your Granny?

02162015_SweetGrandmaI met a sweet, soft-spoken lady in her late 70s/early 80s while walking on the beach at Port Aransas on Mustang Island, Texas, back in February 2015.

This gentle lady was ever-so-slowly collecting shells and we started to chat.

She told me that she was gathering the shells to make a hanging shell display for each her two teenaged grandsons. I could tell she put thought into every individual shell, to make sure it was the best of the best for her grandsons.

I didn’t realize that her reflection was in the photo of this shell at the time, but when I offered her the shell for her project, she accepted.

A second shell I offered her didn’t “make the cut” for her collection. She was very particular about the quality, color and size of shell.

As I left the beach about an hour later, this dedicated granny was still there, so I snapped these three photos from afar.

02162015_SweetGrandma3PhotosI wish I could get these photos to her grandsons so they could fully realize how much effort, work & love went into her gifts.

(c) Amy Oakley, 1027 Productions

Little Wren Family

Little family of wrens nesting in my late Grandma’s ivy plant.

07192015_BabyWrensMy Grandma loved birds, and I can imagine the happiness it would bring to know her plant was a tiny bird nursery.

According to my research, these little ones should be taking flight two weeks after they hatch, which will be around July 24th.

Unfortunately, I also learned these seemingly sweet, vocal birds can be the worst of neighbors to other species of birds by destroying their eggs and ransacking their nests.

(I certainly wouldn’t be telling Grandma about their dark side!)

Nonetheless, I wish this little feathery family the best of luck as they take to the skies in a few days. I’ll post photos if I’m lucky enough to catch the moment.

Fly high & enjoy the view,

AmyO.

Short Story: “Secrets of a Shopkeeper’s Daughter”

Story written Dec. 23, 2014
Daily writing prompt by Writers Write photo.

Photo_WriteAboutFirstOwners“The stocky two-time widower lowered an armful of cut timber in a neat pile near the wood-burning stove. The flame, he noticed with weary eyes, was nary extinguished. His nostrils flared at the ineptness of his foolish sons. How oft of the tongue would he beseech them to keep a warm shop for the kingdom’s villagers? He angrily flicked snowflakes from his coat when, behold, he saw the package. His eyes, suddenly alert, darted nervously around the well-stocked store to ensure he was alone. It wasn’t illegal, but it was still frowned upon. Inside the package were books. Four books to be exact, if the order was fulfilled as requested, fresh from the printing press in the neighboring village betwixt the mountain and the sea. Although he was a fortunate shopkeeper and very good with numbers, the youngest of his eight living children – and his only daughter at that – inherited a love of books from whom he did not know. Not from him, and certainly not the girl’s mother, his third wife. While the regimented woman kept a good home and firmly delegated chores to his many sons, she opposed time wasters such as reading. She also jealously opposed any attention or gifts he might lavished on their young daughter. With a burdened sigh, he lifted the modestly-wrapped package. The smell of new parchment and ink, along with the weight and shape of the bundle, confirmed all four books hither. The wordsmith assured him the books were appropriate for innocent eyes of the weaker sex, but alas, he hoped this would be his final order. It was rumored that Her Majesty had recently walked the Castle grounds with a book in hand, but women were naught to be interested in reading, or learning, or having an opinion. He selfishly prayed that his daughter’s infatuation with books would wane before such time to consider an appropriate suitor for marriage, for he had high hopes that his daughter could attract a man of wealth, good name, and perhaps even a title. Anon, but for today, he’d hide the package in his mare’s saddle bag. He’d smartly wait until after his sons (those fools!) departed the shop for home. If his wife ever discovered the gift, he’d feel the devil’s wrath; yet for his beloved daughter and her happiness, he would pay any price – whether it be his gold, his dignity or his soul.” (c) Amy Oakley, 1027 Productions

Your feedback about this story is greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Write on!

Amy O.

Post Navigation