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


Saturday, November 30, 2013

Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Waves of Life – part 4 – Lillian Morpork

The story so far.
A young woman is with an archaeology team on a strange planet. They are there with government permission, but some of the natives object to aliens digging up their past. Some of the most aggressive sneak into the dig and capture her while she sleeps. She wakes in a boat floating down a river. Someone had stowed a lot of supplies in the boat, so after she wakes, and realises she is heading for a tall cataract, she manages to steer the boat to shore.

She retrieves the supplies and sends the boat off to crash over the falls. By the time she made her way up from the river bank, it is late, so she sets up camp and settles for the night. She is wakened by the sound of yipping and howling and something circling the tent. When she peeks out, she sees natives dancing around. One sees her and forces her to come out of the tent.

They travel to the Capitol city and to the government. There she is greeted warmly and promised help for herself and the archaeologists. Unwrapping a cloth bundle, she reveals a small statuette; she had been told to keep it safe, and secret. She presents it to the Flxl (president) and all in the room go to their knees in awe.

The story continues:

Slowly I knelt too. The atmosphere of reverence and awe in the room was so strong, I could do nothing else.

Staring at the sea - Part 3 - By Sven Pertelson

This was the kind of blue water, open ocean sailing that Rob had dreamed of. A gentle swell faded into the distance, steady winds, blue skies and warm sun. First chore of the day was to collect flying fish that had collided with the sails overnight. Gutted and de-scaled they went into the frying pan for breakfast. Drain a little fresh water out of the solar still on the foredeck and make coffee and watch his straight line wake dissapear behind him. Life was good,

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 4

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 4

"I guess it's a good thing I couldn't get the skin off," I said. "Now I just need to shape it a bit to make it look like it BELONGS in the painting. And then find a way to seal the skin itself. It wouldn't do to have it fall apart before the auction." I smiled. This was exciting... Overnight Boa had turned a tragic incident into a money making venture. I hoped... fingers crossed.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Staring at the sea - part 2 - Sven Pertelson

Rob had regretted his joy at being alone on his boat only a week later. He had made good time through the Red Sea and had only made one stop at Port Sudan. The advice he got there was that staying close the the Somalian shore was the best way to avoid the local pirates. The tended to be looking for larger ships on the major deep water shipping lanes. It was pure economics, larger ships were owned by larger companies and these had more money for ransom.

Waves of Life – part 3 – Lillian Morpork

Waves of Life – part 3 – Lillian Morpork

The story so far:.
A young woman is with an archaeology team on a strange planet. They are there with government permission, but some of the natives object to aliens digging up their past. Some of the most aggressive sneak into the dig and capture her while she sleeps. She wakes in a boat floating down a river. Someone had stowed a lot of supplies in the boat, so after she wakes, and realises she is heading for a tall cataract, she manages to steer the boat to shore. She retrieves the supplies and send the boat off to crash over the falls. By the time she had made her was up from the river bank, it is late, so she sets up camp and settles for the night. She is wakened by the sound of yipping and howling and something circling the tent. When she peeks out, she sees natives dancing around. One sees her and forces her to come out of the tent.

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 3

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 3

The drive home was a blur... I had even forgotten to clean up my paints in my office. And the back seat was empty of the artwork that usually occupied it. I never even noticed. My dinner that night was quick and sparse. I skipped washing the dishes and went right to bed.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Drowning Part 1 - Marita Decosta

Staff Sergeant Andrew Williams snapped awake at precisely zero five thirty, and preformed his customary split second ritual of determining exactly where he was. It could be one of several places, a hole dug in the ground referred to as a "fighting hole", but it was too warm and cozy so maybe it was a shelter half, no, the smell of treated green canvas was absent. Barracks?....no it was too quiet no snores and the sound of troubled men having bad dreams. He was at home, in his own bed, his wife sleeping softly beside him.

Waves of Life - part 2 - by Lillian Morpork

The story thus far:

The narrator was with an archeology group that ran into trouble with a group of natives who resented strangers digging into their past. Two of them were extremely aggressive, and one night when she was sleeping, they gave her a drug and placed her in a boat and sent her off down the river. One friend managed to place survival gear in the boat while the natives were carrying her to where it was hidden.

On regaining consciousness, she realised where she was and what had happened. She found the supplies, packed a backpack and attached all that she could to the belt of the backpack. She then used the rudder to steer the boat to shore, removed all that she could, and sent the boat down river where it would go over a high cataract.

The story continues:

I turned and surveyed what seemed to be an impenetrable wall of growth. Bushes, shrubs and small trees lined the top of the bank, and every one seemed to have thorns, claw-like growths, saw tooth edged leaves and twigs. With my hair down, I would soon be caught irrevocably, held fast until I died and my body became food for the growth.

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 2

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 2

I stood up from my painting... Put my brushes in their cleaning solution... then followed the boy to the back room of the Reptile cages. As he opened the door I could see the problem right away. All I could say was... "Good heavens boy... WHAT have you done?"

Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Out of a Dream – part 1 - by Lillian Morpork

Slowly I became aware; aware of a rising, falling, swaying sensation that made me dizzy, and slightly nauseous. I realised that my eyes were closed, and after a moment’s struggle, was able to open them. But I had to close them immediately; the light was so blindingly bright it sent stabs of pain into my head. I waited as I gradually grew more aware.

Staring at the sea - part 1 - by Sven Pertelson

Rob stared out to sea. The pieces of wood floating in on the tide might be some of the wreckage of his boat. If it stopped raining he would go down the beach and see if he could drag some in and pull them above the high tide mark. They might come in useful, if only as fuel. For now he would stay as dry as he could in the makeshift shelter of leaves and branches he had made for himself after being washed ashore after the storm. How long ago was that? Two or three days?

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 1

"Gods Little Creatures" by Llola Lane PART 1

Working at the local zoo is no picnic it is hard work. I am there early in the morning and stay til late at night. Being the reptile curator keeps me busy. The only relaxation I get is on my lunch hour, when I can work on my painting. Painting helps me to relax and the cares of the day seem to fade away. Everyone knows I paint and they usually leave me alone for an hour or so. I've made myself a nice little corner in my office to work. I am careful to clean up my paints when I am finished, so the animals are not smelling them all day. Then I take my artwork home each night to dry. The paint I use dry’s pretty fast.