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

Monday, September 24, 2012

Creativity - by Lillian Morpork

Mommy was out doing something for her work. She mostly worked at home, but sometimes she had to go out. When she did, four year old Reggie and Ruthie were left in the care of Stella, their nanny. And there was always Mrs. Baker, the cook/housekeeper, too. Only, today, after Mommy left, Mrs. Baker went shopping and Stella got sick, really sick. She upchucked all over the ground near the back steps. Before she went to lie down, she made Reggie and Ruthie promise that they would stay in the yard, be quiet, and not get into trouble. She looked so awful, they really felt sorry for her. They gave their solemn promise, and she went inside and up to her bed.

Now, they were thinking about making her a present. Mommy had lots of shape things she used to make plags to hang on the wall. Mommy used plaser, but they didn’t have any. What could they use?

“Mud gets hard like plaser when it’s dry,” Reggie said. “Let’s get some of Mommy’s nicest shapes and make a plag for Stella. We can use stones, and flowers, and …”

“Feathers! There’s lots of feathers around the yard, we can use them, too. Some of them are really pretty.” Ruthie jumped up and down in her excitement.

“Yes,” Reggie agreed. You gather flowers and stuff, and I’ll go get some shape things.” Ruthie nodded and got busy, while Reggie ran inside.

It was not long before they had everything laid out on the back steps. The problem of mud had been easily solved using the hose and a bare patch of ground at the end of the yard.

“We need something to put everything on by the mud, and where we can put the plags to dry,” Ruthie said. “What can we use?” She looked around, and spotted a big crumped piece of blue cloth in one of the garden plots. “That should be good,” she said, running over to get it. “Reggie, come help, it’s really big.”

They gathered it, and carried it to their work area, and spread it out. Some of it ended up in the mud, but that didn’t worry them. There was plenty of mud to use. Reggie stood looking at it, frowning a bit. “Ruthie, I think that’s the sheet Mommy was going to use on the big bed. Maybe we shouldn’t get it dirty.”

Ruthie paused in her work, and looked. “But, Reggie, if Mommy wanted it, she wouldn’t have throwed it in the dirt, would she?”

“hmmm..no, you’re right, she wouldn’t.” Reggie took one of the molds and commenced filling it with mud. They both worked intently, filling the molds and decorating them with the flowers, stones, feathers and interesting twigs. At last, they had six different molds finished, and lined up on the blue sheet.

“I think we did good, Reggie,” Ruthie said, head tilted to one side as she studied their handiwork. “Yeah, me too,” Reggie agreed. “Now I’m hungry. Let’s leave them to dry. We can make peanut butter samiges, and have some milk. Come on, I’ll race you!” He set off at a run, with Ruthie at his heels.

They ran through the hall and into the kitchen, scattering mud all the way. They took time to push a chair over to the sink and wash their hands before getting out the bread, peanut butter, strawberry jam and milk. Soon they had a yummy lunch ready, and they took it outside to eat.

Joanna Sadler walked up the step from the garage and opened the door to the back hall. She stopped with one foot up, holding the door and staring at the mud splattered floor. “What in the…? On, dear, what have those two been up to? And where are Stella and Mrs. Baker?”

Stepping carefully, she moved to the kitchen, stopped, and put a hand to her head. “Oh, my dear Aunt Sally!” she exclaimed. The floor and cupboards were liberally splattered with mud and peanut butter. There was a puddle of milk beside the refrigerator, and some smears of red that she figured were strawberry jam. Still moving carefully, she went through the kitchen and into the front hall.

“Mrs. Baker, Stella!” she called. A low moan came to her from upstairs, and she ran up. Looking into Stella’s room, she found the girl in bed, deathly pale and very ill. Grabbing her cell phone, she called 911 and asked for help. It wasn’t long before Stella was on her way to the hospital, suffering from what appeared to be food poisoning. That attended to, she went looking for her twins.

She found them in the back yard, admiring their ‘plags’. “Look, Mommy, we made plags for Stella, ‘cause she’s sick. We didn’t get into trouble, and we didn’t make any noise, like we promised.” They were full of smiles, two cherubs with blonde curls and big blue eyes. She sighed, then noticed what the ‘plags’ were lying on. The new spread she had bought for the king sized bed in the guest room. She had hung it out to air last night.

“Where did you get that?” she asked.

“It was over there in the flower bed, the one without flowers,” Ruthie said. “We thought you didn’t want it if you put it there.”

Putting her hand to her forehead, Joanne sighed. From their point of view, everything they had done was logical, and in line with their promise. Shaking her head, she told them they needed a bath. As she headed in with them, her husband came up from the garage. She stopped him before he stepped in the mud, and explained what had happened.

Putting a hand to his mouth to smother a laugh, he said “Ok, you get them clean and I’ll tackle the floors. Several hours later they sat in the living room talking it over. “I guess I’ll have to get the plaster out and let them make a plaque for Stella. They can make get well cards, too. I’m glad she is going to be all right. They were so upset when I told them she was in hospital. I think I am going to be white haired before I am thirty, with those two around!”

John laughed. “Well, you can never say life is dull, anyway!” They both laughed. “Still, no matter how much trouble they cause, we are lucky to have them.” Joanne nodded, and rested her head on his shoulder, picturing the two little faces as they looked at her over the mud ‘plags’ they had made.

No comments:

Post a Comment