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, December 4, 2013

The Magic Santa Bus Stop! - Part 1 - by Relay Caedmon

The Snow who falled down covered everything, roads,bushes even the rusty old stopsign who had seen many days, and its condition wasnt as it best. But there right there in the white field of snow there was a bus stop. Its oriented inspired roofs covered in snow kept part of the ground below free from it.

On one of the benches you could see a girl, probably waiting for something. Her thick coat almost covered her face, only the green eyes of hers could be seen. on a small note she could read

*Rumors of the santa bus could actually be true, if you wish hard enought and have a warm friendly heart, your wish COULD BE TRUE*

She looked up again and saw nothing but snow from left to right. I wonder how a santa bus looks like she thought, Is it red, yellow or even green? The cold wind tried to take her away but she took a step back to the benches further in. They looked like the benches back home near schol the thought, but how did i get here?

She looked out to see anything who could solve that mystery. hmm no shoe tracks in the snow, very strange. She couldnt see any house or anything who could help her guess were she was. everything was just flat covered with snow. She still had hopes to see a santa bus but now her hopes started to fade as times passed on from minutes to hours and she layed down on the bench.

Maybe i havent been friendly enought this year? Her thoughts went back to the past year, what did i do and what good did i do. Maybe i didnt do anything good enought, but how did i got here?

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