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

Friday, August 5, 2011

Reflections by Suta Northman

Sitting alone in a house weathered by time, the woman looks out over the meadow over grown with time, while thinking of times gone by. As she finishes the last stitch, she looks down at her work, a quilt of memories of time and places of long ago.

She starts to smile remembering a place and time, where youth and love flow like the stream nearby. The happy sounds coming from the waters fall, song of birds fill the air. A rock across the stream brought dreams of adventure far. As she rode her steed that stood proud and tall. Each stitch was a time in place, as she rode away from the stream.

The times of her life sewn in every stitch, colors, shapes made from pieces she saved. One, from her love, who had long been gone.  Several from her children who are grown and gone. A few, from their children who’s smiles still shine bright, as she told them the stories of the stream at the meadow edge by the water fall. Where, she meets her love so long ago. Of how they danced to the waters flow. It was there her first kiss appeared.

With each colored piece memories flowed of hard and good times of long ago. With shaky hands of time, gently she wipes a tear from her cheek; she looks at the tear as she gently wipes it on the stream she made. Then in soft loving voice she looks down at the quilt.

For in this quilt is all my love, my reflection, my life. To those I love and loved before I leave you my memories, in stitches of time and love.

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