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, September 21, 2011

Never Regret Love by Zhu Juran

Never Regret Love by Zhu Juran

"He comes back to tell me he’s gone, as if I didn’t know that, as if I didn’t know my own bed” - Paul Simon

She didn’t know if she could cry any more; she’d never cried this much in her life. The tears were crying themselves at this point, and she couldn’t stop them. It had been a month since he left without a word; a month in which she was sure she’d eaten and slept but all she could remember was the crying. Enough! she told herself sternly. Pull yourself together. She threw a cold washcloth on her face and sighed heavily. She’d heard not a word from him, she didn’t know if he was alive or dead, but if he WAS alive she’d probably kill him if he showed up! Time to move on, she continued her mental lecture, there is nothing he could say at this point to make you take him back, so...let it go. She looked down at Toto, always at her side. “Come on, boy, let’s go for a walk!”
Toto wagged happily, and grabbed Shiny Thing so they could play ThrowandCatch.


Where was he today? He never knew, when he woke up, which world he’d be in. Sometimes he was in SL, but it was all wrong somehow - he was alone, and he couldn’t make any sense of that. The times that he woke up and he couldn’t see or move, he’d figured out that then he was in RL. The sounds and smells told him he was in a hospital, and over the weeks, through the hushed conversations around him, he’d learned several things: he was in a coma, he was lucky to be alive, they were hopeful that he’d recover completely, no one came to see him. Would she come, if she knew?

In the hospital, he had complete recall of what had happened, why he’d wanted to leave, and the fact that he HAD left her. It all seemed so silly now, and he wanted to go back in time, wanted things to be as they had been. Regret covered him like a blanket.

When he woke in SL, it was confusing - nothing ever completely rezzed, she and Toto were both gone and he could never find them before his time there was ended. It was like purgatory, which he’d never believed in, but now he seemed to be living it. The damn tears appeared in his eyes again; he blinked rapidly, hoping they’d be gone before the nurse came in but no, there she was, wiping his eyes and shushing him like a baby. If he could wish himself to sleep, he would.


Zola was having the time of her life! SO MUCH MONEY! She’d never even considered royalties from product spinoffs - she thanked her attorney silently again for having the foresight to include that in her contract. Her eyelash care products did okay, but the line of ZasuBabies could support a small country! ZasuPillar was still the most popular, the first one they’d released based on her ZOLAshes logo, but others were catching up: ZasuBear, ZasuSaurus, ZasuPotamus - was there no end to the silliness people would buy? Zola fervently hoped not. She was setting aside royalty money for her friend, since she’d named the line after her, in hopes that one day she’d return. Sighing happily, she let her thoughts drift as her massage continued.

Shiny Thing/white disk wasn’t glowing as brightly. Its plans (if it could have plans) were somewhat in disarray. It had lost a follower, and that simply never happened. It felt, if disks could feel, the other disks mocking it. White disk brooded.

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