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 7, 2014

Rosalie's Adventures in the Clouds - Part 1 - by Sven Pertelson

Rosalie Alice Pleasance St.Clair Appleton hated her first name, and was not too keen on some of her other names.. She really wished people would just call her Alice like her great-great-grandmother.

It was because of ggg-A, as she thought of her, that she was walking in the meadows by the Isis as it wound through the Oxfordshire countryside. She had always wanted to see the place described in the first book that had been dedicated to her almost namesake.

Uncle Caryl had parked his car at the Trout Inn near Godstow and lent Rosalie his umbrella to keep off the steady drizzle that was falling. He was going to sample 'a half' of the local beer while she walked. She was disappointed with the weather, it was nothing like the balmy summer idyll described in the book, but that was the English weather was, even at the height of summer you could have wet misty days.

Rosalie could see the willows by the riverbank through the mist and was glad for the umbrella and waterproof boots. Her feet squelched through the sodden grass, grey with water drops. The pale sun was just strong enough to cast slight shadows of her as she picked her way around the larger puddles. The mist deadened the sounds from the busy roads nearby and she could imagine she was the only person for miles around.

Across her path ran, a rabbit? How appropriate, even if it was not white and did not have a pocket watch. There was something strange about the beast though. It almost looked as if it had antlers. Rosalie quickened her pace to get closer and take another look. As she hurried forwards the mist grew thicker and thicker. Soon she lost sight of the rabbit like creature all together.

Rosalie span round trying to see her footprints so she could back track. The mist covered the ground and it was now very soft under foot. Odd, though the ground was soft it did not feel wet. It was almost bouncy like a feather pillow and not cold at all. Nothing to worry about though. This was not a large field and she would soon reach a fence or the river and then she could find her way back to the pub car park.

As she moved forward though her feet sank deeper and deeper into the mist covered ground. Now she was up to her knees, her waist, her chest. She clung tightly to her uncle's umbrella. She was falling …..

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