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, May 29, 2013

Fragile - Part 4 - by Raphaela Palmer

Radqua checked her patient's pulse and respiratory rate; both were within the normal range and she was in the act of noting them on her patient's chart when Cleatha walked in, looking rather agitated “What's the matter Cleatha, it's not like you to get flustered? High Elder P'lo sent me to ask you to join the meeting. Radqua frowned, “I can't leave her alone Cleatha, even though her vitals are good imagine if she woke up and there was no-one there? “I can stay and keep and eye on her if you think she should not be left alone? “Please do. I've checked her vitals, and I think they all within the normal range but please keep an eye on her temperature for me, she was very cold when we brought her in and it looked like she had been lying on the forest floor overnight.“ “How badly injured is she? “Surprisingly she doesn't seem to be badly hurt. There's a lot of bruising and she has a large bump on her head but other than that she seems to be al-right She'll probably wake up in a few hours, but she ought not be left alone in the meantime. With that Radqua pulled her cloak from it's peg wrapped it around her and swiftly left the building.

Radqua hurried into the hall quickly, she knew it was never wise to keep the elders waiting. As she entered the hall; she could hear one of the Elders speaking. approaching the podium she bowed and on a sign from the High Elder, took her place on the bench next to Raneld and Tor'm. “What this strange fog means and where it has come from we do not know, we know only that it appeared as if out of nowhere, roughly two hours ago. At this time I can say that two of our tribe members are missing, and as they are both children this very worrying. “When were they last seen Tockre? “Shortly after the noon meal; a few hours before the fog came in High Elder. They had gone out to fish and have not returned.” The hall fall silent, the only sound was that of the boy's mother attempting to stifle her sobs.

Ymara gradually regained consciousness. When she opened her eyes she flinched; everything seemed to have blended into one gigantic, seamless, multi-coloured blur. Confused, she shook her head as if to clear it and a wave of nausea hit. She closed her eyes and laid down again. Odd, she thought, I seem to be lying in a bed and I don't remember getting into one. Ymara winced at the pain in her head. “The last thing I remember, the balloon crashed; and a voice .. someone had found me. But no I must have dreamt it.“I don't remember getting into this bed. Come to that I don't even remember entering this room.”

She looked around the room with interest, her eyes drawn to a picture hanging on the wall opposite her. At first she could not work out what it was but then she realised it was painting of rose but close up. The picture was so beautifully painted and the detail so superb, it almost looked like a photograph. She was so fascinated by it that she did not even notice the door to the room open. “Ah you've awakened, how are you feeling?” Startled, Ymara looked around and saw the woman who had spoken. “I.. well my head still aches but other than that I feel fine thank you” she said dazedly. “That's understandable considering the bruises Radqua found. My name is Cleatha, Raneld found you unconscious in the forest and went to fetch Radqua. “Ah... so I did not dream it. You see after I crashed my balloon I came round to find myself trapped underneath it's remains. I screamed for help but no-one came. Just when I thought I would never be found I heard what I though was a voice calling to me. Before I passed out again I thought I saw someone, but I dismissed it as a dream.” Cleatha smiled “No it wasn't a dream and Radqua will be pleased to hear that you are recovering, but now tell me, what is a balloon and how did you come to be here?”

Ymara stared at her in astonishment, “well it's a type of .. transport but instead of going by like a boat, for instance, it lets you travel by air.” Cleatha gasped “You mean you can.. can FLY in it”?
“Yes, it works by heating the air inside the balloon's canopy, as long as you balance the weight correctly and don't have too much weight inside the basket. “I may be wrong but when I saw the island from above , whilst in my balloon it looked like there were cars, or for that matter roads”
Cleatha nodded slowly, “I have never heard of such things, certainly there have never been any here in my lifetime.”

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