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


Sunday, June 30, 2013

Your Inspiration for June 2013

Hot Afternoon - by Moe Sandalwood

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Who is She? – part 2 – Lillian Morpork

The man stood, shoulders drooping, leaning against the window frame, staring out into the garden. He was six feet tall, well built, and handsome, with dark slightly wavy hair and dark eyes. He wore sorrow like a cloak as he watched the two children sitting under the tree, the four year old boy holding the two year old girl comfortingly. The man sighed; this was not the way they should be acting. They should be running and playing. There was a ball nearby, and a doll in a pram. And watching them anxiously, poking his nose at the ball, an Irish Setter, red coat gleaming in the sun, waiting for his pals to play with him.

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

"Generations" Part 2 by Llola Lane

"Generations" Part 2 by Llola Lane

"Excuse me... Is this for sale," A young man inquired?

Celia looked at him, and then at the rug he was pointing at. She remembered when Uncle Moe gave it to her. That was the happiest day of her life... her wedding day. Who would have thought that she'd be a widow at such a young age? The rug was the last of her wedding day memories that she had held on to. She hated the thought of having to sell it.

Exchange by Teri Meridian

Exchange by Teri Meridian

Tiana moaned softly and clutched her head, desperately trying to squeeze out the throbbing pain behind her eyes. Though faeries were not supposed to get headaches and other such common ailments, she had somehow done something to bring on this misery. Closing her eyes, she clenched her jaw and tensed as another bolt of pain shot through her head.

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

"Generations" Part 3 by Llola Lane

"Generations" Part 3 by Llola Lane

Mike and Frank were excited. They had never been to this part of the country before. Their job had taken them too many places but this area was all new to them. FRESH homesteads... Ripe for the pickin'... WHAT could be better?

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Who is She? part 1 - Lillian Morpork

Who is She? part 1 - Lillian Morpork

Kathy Bates stood in the doorway, surveying the room. Normally, the residents of Limberlost Lodge would be outside, enjoying the gardens. But because it was such a hot day, they were inside, where it was cooler. Some were reading, some writing, others playing various games, or just talking in small groups. All, that is, except for Jane Doe. She sat, as she had since first she was brought in; body limp in the armchair, head resting on the back, turned slightly toward the window, arms resting on the chair arms, face and eyes completely blank.

"Ignition" by Teri Meridian

"Ignition" by Teri Meridian

Rumour had it that one only ever entered a dragon's lair uninvited once in one's lifetime -- the unsaid conclusion being that one never lived long enough to leave and re-enter. While some dragons chose to live in the woodlands or on mountain tops, the oldest and most powerful dragons inhabited the bones of the earth, deep in rocky caves. It was such a dragon that Nyx had sought out. An older and more powerful beast that would give her the best chance of fae immortality. Standing in the shadow of the cliff, staring into the blackness of the cavern, Nyx felt her knees tremble and almost buckle. She knew her courage would fail if she stood here much longer, so taking a deep breath, she began to walk forwards into the darkness.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Homecoming - by Lillian Morpork

The figure squatted at the edge of the green growth, his green coat blending with his surroundings. His bulging eyes swivelled as he studied the scene, his mind going back to his early youth.

Hot Afternoon - Part 1 by Sven Pertelson

The cool marble floors and minimalist furnishing of the apartment contrasted with the profusion of colourful planted tubs baking in the mediterranean heat of the balcony. The fine slatted blinds at the window kept out worst of the reflected afternoon sunlight and only partially illuminated the dead body lying on the crazed stone.

"Generations" Part 4 by Llola Lane

"Generations" Part 4 by Llola Lane

Amy and Trevor stood looking at the wall. Amy was in awe as she stared at the hanging rug. Something about it made her not want to look away. Maybe it was the fine stitching or the fact that it was over 100 years old. It sure looked good for 100 years. There were a few tattered parts here and there but the color was as bright as the day it was made. Craftsmen made things better back in those days. And it looked like someone took great care of this rug.

"Metamorphosis" by Teri Meridian

"Metamorphosis" by Teri Meridian

Nyx Aurelia was a common brown wood sprite -- a species of lesser fae found in the boreal forests of eastern North America and northern Europe. As far as sprites went, she was unremarkable, being of average height, around 18 inches tall in her best boots, and pleasantly attractive, at least by wood sprite standards, with a small rounded face, thin lips, a pert upthrust nose, and long auburn hair. As she stared at herself in the still water of her reflecting pool, she smiled softly, knowing that today was going to be the end. One way or another, she would cease to exist by the time the sun set and twilight covered the forest.