A writing challenge in SecondLife®. Writings inspired by works of art in the OZLAND Art Gallery
What are Ozlandish Writings?
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 7pm SLT to read the latest submissions on voice. More Information
It’s four months later, and we’ve visited the Antarctic and South American pyramids. Stew’s used the pictures and closely examined the communicators in both to work out a basic vocabulary. However, he can’t get either of the communicators working. We’ve traveled on, and at last, after a long and difficult climb, reached the hidden valley in the Himalayas. Since the location was only accessible for at most four weeks in a year, we were relieved when we arrived. We’d have most of the next year to see what we could discover.
“For the article, yes. But before we get into writing a book, I would like to go and see the pyramids. I may see things you wouldn’t, because you haven’t seen them all. For instance, in the Grand Gallery, the pictures painted on the walls – in the moon pyramid, they depicted what can only be pictures of a solar system, and the life on the inhabited worlds. But there was no clear depiction of the inhabitants. What did they look like? Were there pictures like that in any of your pyramids?”
I woke in the dark, to the sounds of voices and lights flashing around. Where was I and why was I in the dark, laying on a very hard surface? Then one of the lights came across the floor to my side and slanted up to show the face of Lieutenant Tony Wills. ‘Hi, Al! Did you have a good nap?’ he laughed, and held out his hand and helped me to my feet.
It all happened so fast. The tip of Sarah's finger touched the tablet. An instant later she was gone. Vaporized. An ethereal white powder, whisked away by the desert wind, mixing with eons of sand. The workmen stood silent and in shock. Leaderless, their eyes gazed at the now-dull tablet. In bewilderment and fear they shuffled away, then ran, chasing after the remnants of Sarah's dust into the desert.
The artifact they uncovered was gilt in gold over a meticulously carved stone tablet. The technical precision and the artistry of its crafting were obvious. The meaning of its message, if any, was not.
I felt decidedly out of place as I drove my rattletrap Thunderbird along the curved driveway up to the mansion of Sir Wilfred Maitland. Part of the driveway ran through a forested area and debouched into an open area of formal lawns and gardens.