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, January 11, 2012

"Is it a Gift?" by SweetTrinityBaby Resident (PART 2)

"Is it a Gift?" by SweetTrinityBaby Resident (PART 2)
inspired by "finale" by Shugaaa Rhapsody (Feb/2011 OZLAND Picture Stories)

“I do think I can teach you and I do believe you are ready” Nathan said then continued. “Look around the room what do you pick up?”

Jan glanced at him then slowing scanned the crowd. Image after image flooded her mind and she turned and looked at him, “A whole lot of crap! I can't figure this all out, it’s too much.”

“Take a breath and try again but slower and find one person that stands out for any reason and focus on them.” Nathan replied.

Jan closed her eyes breathed in the deepest breath she could, then slowly let it out and opened her eyes going from person to person. With every person came dozens of images, that was till she got to one.

It was a woman sitting alone on a stool with her head hung down. She was playing with a ribbon on her white dress. Jan studied the image unfolded in her mind, not many like everyone else, just one, one ever clear and direct vision. The woman was very sad and standing in a bathroom she had her white dress on with a pill bottle in her hand. She was looking at herself in the mirror as she cried and then swallowed all the pills. Soon she collapsed to the ground.

Jan’s face went white. She had never had a vision like this. Jan did not know what to do. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she just sat still and did not move.

Knowing what she had seen, Nathan did not say a word, he just let her sit for a few minutes. Then he spoke, “There is nothing we can do.”

“Like HELL!” Jan responded with anger. “I can not just know this and just let her do that. If this is a gift as you call it. Then what is the point if we don’t help people.”

“But that is bigger then your or I” Nathan said in response.

“I have to, sitting by and knowing that I just sat here would be wrong. It would not be being true to myself. I have to try.” Jan said almost yelling at Nathan.

“I’m warning you you are just hurting yourself.” Nathan said with deep concern. “But if this is how you choose to learn, then by all means have it your way.”

Jan looked at Nathan very irritated wanting to smack him, but kiss him at the same time. “It is not my way to get hurt, but I will put myself in the way to get hurt, if it means someone else will not get hurt thank you.”

Knowing her mixed emotion and moment of lack of concentration he smiled and teasingly licked his lips. This irritated Jan even more and she turned her back away from him.

Over the speakers there was a name announced and then welcomed to the stage. The woman stood up off her bar stool and grabbed her violin case as she headed for the stage. She was a very beautiful woman and everyone was cheering for her. She opened her mouth to speak and thanked the crowd. Her voice was that of an angel, it was so soft and sweet.

‘Why would anyone like her want to take their own life?’ Is all Jan could think.

She pulled the violin up to her chin and started to play. The crowd went quiet; no one dared to make a sound. Everyone was in a state of pure awe by this woman.


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