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

Tuesday, January 28, 2014

My Name Is… - part4 – Lillian Morpork

My Name Is… - part4 – Lillian Morpork

“Ma’am, Sir, dinner will be served in half an hour. Would sir like to come with me now? I have found suitable clothing for him; I thought he might like to dress for dinner.”

Simone turned and smiled up at Jeeves. “Oh, Jeeves, I should have thought of that. I know there is an ample supply of men’s clothing here, it just slipped my mind. You are so very dependable, Jeeves.” Jeeves smiled slightly and bowed.

“Oh, my, yes!” Inigo exclaimed. I was wondering what I could do about clothes; I can’t go about in this robe all the time. Yes, Jeeves let us be off and get me into something more appropriate.” He stood, bent and took Simone’s hand and kissed it, and murmured “I will join you again soon,” and followed Jeeves out.

While they were at diner, Jeeves came in with an envelope on a silver try, which he offered to Simone. “This was just hand delivered, Ma’am, and since I know the one who delivered it, I thought you should see it immediately.”

Simone took the envelope, opened it, and read. She looked up at Inigo, eyes bright with expectation. “Inigo, your chance has arrived. Count Tyrone Rugen is back, and has asked me to visit him tomorrow. He says he wants to give me a report on his stewardship of my property. What he wants really, is to try once again to get me to wed him. I think this time, he will do more than talk; he is quite determined, and last time I saw him, he said if I didn’t agree willingly, he would take me anyway.”

“That sounds like the dastardly villain!” Inigo growled. We must foil him in his evil designs. I will go with you, but I will not enter with you. I will come in later, and catch him in the act!” His voice had risen, and his head echoed to the sound of the Mars suite of The Planets. He had risen, and was now standing, brandishing his dinner knife like a sword.

They spent the rest of the evening making their plans. Inigo would disguise himself as a footman. After Simone had gone in, he would go around to the servant’s entrance and enter that way, and work his way through the palace until he found Simone and the Count.

It all worked as they had planned, though it took Inigo longer than he expected. He had had to hide several times to avoid being discovered by a servant, and once when he took a wrong turning. When he finally found them, he was almost too late. The wedding service was already in progress. In fact, Simone was acting faint, and doing everything she could to delay the saying of her vows. Ingo saw what was happening, and took action.

“Hold! I object to this marriage. The bride is most unwilling, and I will not allow the Count to force her.” He drew his sword, and stepped forward.

“My name is Inigo Montoya! You killed my life, my chances for happiness! Prepare to die, Count Rugen!”

The Count, recognising the name, was nothing loathe. He would kill this toad, and have the magical Simone to wife. Drawing his sword, he cried “En Garde!”

The battle was wild but short and decisive. Within fifteen minutes the Count lay on the floor, breathing his last. The priest who had been forced into performing the marriage ceremony knelt beside him and gave the last rites. When he was done, he looked up.

“Senorita, please forgive me. He has my family in his dungeon and threatened to kill them all while I watched. I could not take the chance.”

“Father, you have my forgiveness. I knew you were under duress; I saw how you tried to prolong things. Between us, we did it, and I am free. Completely free! He has had a magical hold over me for many years. Your family will be freed, and later, you can perform a marriage. That is,” she turned to Ingo, “if my rescuer wishes.” She smiled, and waited.

“Simone, my Bella Donna, do you mean it? Will you do me the honour, and be my wife?” When she nodded, smiling, he grasped her in his arms and kissed her, the strains of the Jupiter suite vying with those of the Uranus suite in his head, almost drowning out the joy.

“My dearest, my life is complete. I have regained my honour, and been given the greatest gift a man can have; a beautiful, magical woman with whom to share everything.”

The end, to the sounds of the Venus suite – the bringer of peace.

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