What are Ozlandish Writings?

From July 2010 to December 2014 we ran OZLAND PICTURE STORIES as described below. Sadly though the number of writers reduced over the years and we decided to call it a day. We leave these as a record of the good times we had.

Are "You" ready to challenge your writing skills? Then participate in our OZLAND Picture Stories writing series at The Ozland Art Gallery.

Each month a new picture will be picked, from our OZLAND Artist of the Month collection, with different themes. Your goal is to write a 500-1000 word... poem... essay... or story about the picture picked. This is a chance for you to challenge your writing skills each month. Story can be written in ANY genre... sci fi... romance... ghost... fantasy... fiction... non-fiction... biography... mystery... historical... whatever your writing genre... feel free to experiment. Send your writing inworld to Sven Pertelson as a notecard to have it included on the web site. We meet at the The Ozland Art Gallery each Wednesday at Noon and 6pm SLT to read the latest submissions on voice. More Information

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Food for Thought! - By Llola Lane

"TIMBER!!!"...the little mouse yelled at the top of its lungs, as the giant gunslinger fell to the floor. The little mouse made it out of the way just in time. The gunslinger moved.. groaned.. lifted himself partway off the floor, then fell flat on his face. The little mouse sniffed.. Was the man drunk?? Was he dead?? The gunslinger did not move again and no one came to help him up.

The little mouse sniffed at the tangled hair tussled on the floor... it noticed the lice right off... but decided it wasn't THAT desperate and hungry enough to eat them, just yet.

Sniff.. sniff... "I smell food" it thought. Sniff... sniff.. past the gunslingers bearded face.. Past his hairy neck and shoulders... umm.. a shirt pocket. A small piece of cheese... yummo! The little mouse scarfed it down in one bite. Its tummy rumbled... not quite enough to eat.

Sniff.. sniff.. Past the gunslingers arm all bent and deformed from the fall. The little mouse found another pocket.. This time in the dusty wrinkled pants of the gunslinger... the smell of chewing tobacco reeked in the pocket as the little mouse quickly sniffed through various paper items and left over food wrappings. "Nothing worth eating in this pocket" it thought as it made its way down the outside pant leg of the gunslinger.

"Ah.. Now I smell food." The little mouse sniffed for a moment… Not believing it's eyes... Right there, on the bottom of the gunslingers old muddy boot was a large chunk of stale bread! "I shall feast tonight" the little mouse thought. Carefully the little mouse started pulling at the bread making sure as to not break it. The little mouse did not want to waste one precious crumb. The little mouse pulled and tugged... It took some doing but the little mouse finally got the bread loose from the bottom of the gunslingers boot.

Dragging the bread away from the gunslinger, so as to not get stepped on if he awoke, the little mouse's tummy grumbled even louder than before. "I shall eat just half and save the other half for tomorrow" the little mouse thought. The little mouse took a bite... and another... still another... "Just one more bite" the little mouse said... But before the little mouse knew it... the bread was ALL GONE!

Sniff.. sniff.. The little mouse had room in its tummy for just a little something more. Over to the next boot... nothing but mud there. Up the other dirty pant leg where someone had crudely sewn a patch. Another pocket... a few seeds from some unknown something or other, but tasty just the same and enough to fill the little mouse full. A small gold metal object with a hole in the middle. "That's not something I can eat" the little mouse thought and moved out of the pocket.

Sniff.. sniff.. TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK... came from the gunslingers shirt pocket. Up the other arm, past the shoulders, and back to the hair with those big fat juicy lice. "I've had my fill and my tummy is happy" thought the little mouse. "I'll not eat those lice today!"

The little mouse made its way past the table leg... past the chair... past the fallen beer mug... "Just another day at Morgan's Saloon" the little mouse thought as it scurried off to scavenge its meal for the next day.

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