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

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

"The Portal" Part 3 by Trybil Timeless

"The Portal" Part 3 by Trybil Timeless

The portal technician couldn't help but giggle every time a new arrival stepped out into the street naked. Even frequent travelers sometimes suffered from a momentary disorientation and neglected to notice that clothes were not included in the teleportation process. With a smirk he threw Sarah a standard-issue tubular shaped sack. "There you go" he said, wondering how she might fit those unexpected curves into the garb designed for the masses of uniformly featureless Gladeus residents. With some healthy tugs Sarah stretched the form-fitting garment into place.

Spinning around, ready to re-enter the streets of her home-world, she found herself face to face with two rather large men. "Come with us" they commanded. Having no better idea about where to go, Sarah fell in line behind them as they marched at military pace down the avenue of pyramids, under the glaring sun. Along the way, no humans could be seen, only bands of lanky felines roaming and yowling indignation at their passage. Up long stairs they tread, up the face of the largest of the pyramid structures, up and up, then through a well fortified gate. Once inside, they continued down, down an interminable number of stairs deep into the cool bowels of the pyramid. Without a word her escorts left her. With a loud clank the door locked behind her. Total darkness.

"So you return at long last" a voice floated through the darkness. A lamp was lit and its glow revealed the Pharaoh, along with several more of the omni-present cats. For a moment they stood there, staring at each other. Neither dared utter a word.

Sarah gasped and ran towards him, leaped the last several feet, wrapped her arms around his neck, wrapped her legs around his waist, and pressed her lips against his. "Sarah!" he whispered. "It is good we are alone, such an expression of emotion these days would be grounds for execution. Not to mention such an assault on the supreme god of Gladeus".

"Oh Jim, I missed you", Sarah murmured. "Three thousand years was way too long to be apart. What the hell has been going on here anyways?" "Let me get you something more royal to wear, and a glass of wine", he said. "Then we have much to discuss indeed, your majesty".

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