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 19, 2012

Fragile - Part 2 - by Raphaela Palmer

Ymara moaned in pain as she began to regain consciousness, and she stared in wonder at her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was the sunlight filtering through the trees. As her eyes took in more of her surroundings, she noticed that she was lying on her back, in a small clearing of what appeared to be a large wooded area. The second thing she noticed was the badly ripped canopy of her balloon, tangled around the trunk of a nearby tree. As Ymara lifted her head in an attempt to get a better view of her surroundings, she felt dizzy and sick; pain coursed through her body and she cried out in horror as she saw she was trapped under the basket of her balloon. “Help me, please someone..HELP ME“ As Ymara cried out for help and struggled desperately to free herself, she though she heard the sound of running feet and a voice answering. Just then her exhausted mind gave up the struggle and she lost consciousness again.

Raneld walked purposefully through the wood, collecting bag slung over her left shoulder, and bow over her right, pausing now and then to enjoy the sights and smell of the woods. She checked the base of the trees carefully; “Nothing here, nothing here. Ah there's one”. Removing a trowel from her collecting bag, Raneld carefully began to dig up the plant, taking care not to damage the roots as she did so. She had spent around an hour in this fashion when she though she heard a voice calling out for help. “Is anyone there?” she called. The voice answered her, calling out again, “HELP ME”. “Hold on I'm coming” Raneld shouted back, hurrying towards what she though was the source of the sound. As she drew near the clearing she realised the voice was getting louder and she started running. A moment later she dashed through the trees and emerged in the middle of the clearing, gasping at the sight that met her eyes. Moving carefully she hurried to the woman's side and lifted the strange weight from on top of her. Realising she would need help, she fled back to the village as fast as her legs could carry her and dashed into the healer's hut. “Come quickly Radqua there's an injured woman in the forest.“

Radqua Isloth got up from her seat at the bench where she had been preparing medicines, opened a nearby cupboard and took her medical bag from it. “How was she injured Raneld?” It looks as though she fell. When I arrived she was trapped under the remains of something. I have never seen anything like it before, but it looked like a large basket. It looks as though she hit her head when she fell, also. Radqua stared and then shrugged , there was no point arguing with Raneld about how likely it was, she need Raneld was not prone to exaggerating and anyway she would find out for herself soon enough. “How big is it?” Raneld shrugged her shoulders “Big enough for a person to fit in I'd guess. “Well no sense speculating, lead on”. Raneld nodded, and the two woman hurried away into the woods.

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