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

Thursday, January 31, 2013

Inspiration for January 2013

Your inspiration for January 2013 is any of the featured art that we used as a basis for stories in 2012. You can just re-read your favourite story from last year or add a sequel or prequel or just write another un-related story. It is up to you.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

The Fight - by Gabrielle Wind

" Watch out where you are going you puny little creature." Said the creature.

I turned to look at who said that and I notice that it was a reptile type creature that ran me over.

Moments in Time - Part 5 - by Lillian Morpork

“mph!” P.C. staggered and grabbed at something for support. His hand struck a hard, rough surface, and he opened his eyes to see a tree trunk only a few inches from his nose. “Boy, that was close,” he mumbled. He stepped back, and heard a stifled gasp behind him. Turning, he saw a young man, dressed as he was, in green Game Keeper’s garb. The youth’s was dirty and tattered. He was dirty, his straw coloured hair matted with dirt, grease and bits of twig and dry grass. He stood staring, wide eyed and mouth agape.

The Picnic Basket Heist. - Alternative View

Based on the picture 'All Aboard for Kew Gardens' August 2012 - Another view of the story 'The Picnic Basket Heist'

Horace helped his mother to pack the picnic basket while his younger brother and two little sisters ran round the back yard. Summer holidays were always a trying time for Mother, keeping the little ones occupied. He was glad he had suggested that they take a day trip and the weather looked perfect outside. His uncle had let him have a day of mid week and told him with a smile that he was sure the terrazzo business would not go to pot without his help, at least for one day.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Fragile part 3 - by Raphela Palmer

Inspired by 'Fragile' September 2012

Radqua shifted her pack into a better postion and moved back alongside the stretcher to check on her patient. “How is she Radqua? “Still unconcious I'm afraid Tor'm”. Tor'm nodded, grunted and shifted slightly to better keep his grip on the back of the stretcher. Raneld had insisted on being at the front of the stretcher in order to direct them, and in truth it made sense, as Tor'm had not been into that part of the forest before. Raneld paused, the wind had got steadily stronger and stronger as the sky grew darker. “I think there's a storm coming. “Well let's hope it holds off until we get back to the village. Although we will likely have our own personal storm to deal with once we return and the Elders realise we have brought in an outsider. “Butl they can't refuse to help her surely? The rules don't say people can't enter just that they can't leave. “Radqua, the council make the decisions yes but final say on everything here is done via the High Elder and if he says no, then it won't matter what the rules say; you know this. Radqua nodded sadly and stared at the stricken form of her patient worridly.

Moments in Time - part 4 - Lillian Morpork

London England, September 15th, 1905, Same location.

“Well, P.C., here we all are again. What are your big plans this time? Something a bit more exciting than last, I do hope!” G.P. laughed.

"Orange Moon" by Llola Lane

"Orange Moon" by Llola Lane

Inspired by "Moonrise" by Faith Maxwell (April 2012)

The orange moon rises high in the sky. In the vastness of a universe that never ends it shares it's space with stars, giant planets, sister moons and other celestial bodies. There is much to see and the moon is just a tiny fragment in the heavens that are full of color and wonder at every turn.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Moments in Time - part 3 - Lillian Morpork

June 3, 1917 on a country road outside London.

“What the?!” Corporal Smith’s arms jerked in shock and the car swerved. He quickly brought it under control, as he heard shocked shouts from the Sergeant and Captain in the back seat. “He’s gone, sir!” Corporal Smith exclaimed. “How did he manage that? Where’d he go?”

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

The Past by Gabrielle Wind

The Past by Gabrielle Wind

I walk up to the door and turn the handle and walk in and begin to room and I begin to pick up a faint cry. I ran around and find a small child laying on the floor bleeding. I quickly kneel down to him and take a look into my fist aid pouch and sigh seeing the was nothing to help stop the bleeding I look around the office sneaking into the cubical. I manage to spot a dead body on the floor. It was a man, he look like he caught the broad end of an explosion. I looked on his person and took the remaining shirt and the tie and headed back to the boy. I stop hearing something towards me but couldn’t see it then the moment I turned around I felt something grab a hold of me and then all I heard was a loud laughter follow by an explosion. At that moment everything that lead up to this moment flashed in front of my eyes.

Moments in Time - part 2 - by Lillian Morpork

P.C. stepped into the middle of the road, and looked around. He noticed that London seemed closer than it had been. Suddenly, he heard a lot of shouting, and horns honking. He turned his head and saw a car bearing down on him, one man in the front and one in the back standing, shaking their fist and yelling. He had no time to try to figure out what they were shouting; they were too close. He dropped his bicycle and dove for the ditch.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Moments in Time - part 1 - by Lillian Morpork

Percival Cedric Pierce-MacDonald stood hunched over his workbench, making the last, minute adjustments to the object sitting there. It was an odd gizmo, about the size of a young child’s shoe, and just over one inch thick. He made the last adjustment and put down the tool, straightened and stretched, easing the ache in his back.