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, March 29, 2011

Immortal by Llola Lane

My finger touches the paint.. It is still wet.
My hand slips, into the artwork and I am caught off guard.

Friday, March 25, 2011

Attic Surprise by lillian Morpork

The house was big, and old. One of those they call a ‘fixer upper’. As we went through it, we saw that there were several of pieces of furniture still there. Chairs, cabinets, three small tables, as well as rugs. All antiques. From what I could see under the dust, most seemed to be in good condition. The realtor said anything in the house or outbuildings would go with the house, so I began thinking of doing restoration work on the old stuff. It would really be the finishing touch to what we planned.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

Lost Gods - by lillian Morpork

They appeared as black dots against the grey sky,
Dots that swiftly grew, swelled, became two
Huge ravens, Hugninn and Munnin.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Monday, March 14, 2011

A Gnomish Adventure by Lillian Morpork

Gnarly, Gweedy Gnibby Gnobs sat in the shelter of the small, shallow cave and cried. He was so tired, and very, very hungry and thirsty, and there was nothing to eat or drink on this bare shelf part way up the mountain.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Quilt of Many Colors by Llola Lane

"How many more fabrics do we need mama?" "About 3 more Sarah," said mother to daughter. "We need another yellow solid, another blue solid, and then something with a lot of color and pattern to be the main focal fabric of the quilt." "O.K mama... I'll keep looking."

Saturday, March 5, 2011

The Maestro by Lillian Morpork

The young man climbed up the last, steep incline, and paused as he reached the top. For a moment, he stood and looked around. Yes, this was the perfect spot. He doffed his backpack, removed the boots, tough jeans, jacket and shirt, and reaching into the backpack, he took out a plastic bag. With this in hand, he went to the edge of the plateau. There, he untied the cord and opened the bag and took out soap, wash cloth, towel, electric razor and hair brush. Looping the cord around the handles of the bag, he lowered it into the water, pulling it up about half full. Hanging it from the limb of a small bare tree, he proceeded to wash and groom himself. Once done, he emptied the bag and placed everything back in, returning to the backpack.

Thursday, March 3, 2011

Pleasant Madness by Nuria Dominica

Thrown into a pleasant madness, my thoughts.
Letting them like soft and delicate bubbles.
Running, they are running into the deep blue of the ocean
mixed with the clear sky.
Flying freely with no shame.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

The Crow and the Daylight - by Sven Pertelson

A tale of the far North adapted to the style of a Kipling 'Just So' story. 

ow listen and attend, O Best Beloved, and I will tell you how the people of the far North came to have half a year of dark and half a year of light.

Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Crows by Llola Lane

Crows big and black as night
flutter too and fro in their flight
dipping and dancing
to the wind they are prancing.
But to me their graceful wings
flap for other romantic things.

Crows of Blue - by SkyKing Voom

Ware the Jabbercrows my son! Wacked out; drugged out; coked and toked, no random course they fly, arcs, zooms, and swirls charted by crystal meth they look. When they come to a fork in the road they take it; not knowing where they're going they fly somewhere else. (Yogi and Toby called that one!).

Release From Chaos - by lillian Morpork

His gaze sinks deep into her eyes,
Limpid, dark indigo pools.
She smiles in satisfaction,
Thinking, men are such fools!
Another soul captured.