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, September 30, 2014

Your Inspiration for September 2014

Choose any of the twelve pictures at the Gallery reperesenting the four seasons.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Sabbatical – part 3 - Winter – Lillian Morpork

Laura sat watching the scenery going by, noticing the signs of autumn; fields of golden wheat, yellow canola blossoms and tall stalks of corn glowing in the sunshine. There were apple tree laden with reddening fruit, pears turning yellow, and along the fence lines, goldenrod and cornflowers, reminding her of the children’s story about why you always see them together.

Farmer's Lament - by Marcus247

So, this is my home. I know it's not much, a little run down, a little bit like me these days, but it's home. It's a bit of a mess, I don't get visitors out here, just myself and the old dog there by the fire, and it’s just been the two of us for a very long time.

The Caretaker - Part 2 - by Sven Pertelson

He headed towards the exit and heard it again. No doubt this time. But what was it ? …

He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rising. The sensation that someone or something unseen was watching him from the dark module ahead. He took a firm grip of the torch, its weight was comforting in a primitive way, like a caveman facing danger. The thought made him give a nervous smile. Here he was a quarter of a million miles from Earth and his subconscious was still wired for dealing with sabre toothed tigers.

"Baby Robins" by Llola Lane

"Baby Robins" by Llola Lane

Baby robins nesting way up in the tree
squeek and squawk as they look at me.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Sabbatical – Fall – part 2 – Lillian Morpork

Laura sat looking out the train window, watching the world go by; city, country, town and village, everything bursting with summer. The nice old gentleman, Isaac Goldberg, was an amateur historian and Rabbi, and had told her a lot of the history of the places they passed. He had changed trains at the stop after ‘Heaven’, and she missed him. She had chatted with other passengers, but he had been so informative.

It's a long way up. by Marcus247

Steve stood at the top of the bridge, looking down. The cool autumn air made him tug at his jacket, wrapping himself snuggly. He leant on the railing and sighed, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. His eyes scanned around him, the hight of the bridge meant he could see for miles, the different coloured leaves on the trees, farmland in the distance, the air so still and quiet.

The Caretaker - Part 1 - by Sven Pertelson

The caretaker tensed as he heard the noise again. A soft sighing, like an indrawn breath. It seemed to come from the next module, Tulip, as he called it. There were 16 modules in all at the research station and each had a different picture in the central communal space. Each picture represented a season and there were four for each season.

Dark Shadows The Umbrella Killer...Twisted Paths - by Destiny

Late afternoon was approaching and being early in the fall the days drew colder as the sun was ready to set. Lilian lay helpless on the float for what seemed like days with each attempt making contact with the detective failing. Was he hearing Lilian at all was a question weighing heavily on her mind. The woods so dense it was hard to tell where one's voice was coming from or how far it would travel.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014

Sabbatical- Spring and Summer– Lillian Morpork

Pictures Bluebell Woods and Bridge to Heaven

Laura took one last look around the apartment, gathered her bags and walked out. As she locked the door, she was chanting “No more pencils, no more books, no more students’ dirty looks!” She giggled as she walked to the elevator. It was early May, her classes were over and she had a whole year to herself. She really needed it; this last two years had been a strain with the stupid new curriculum the board had foisted off one her.

"Fragile Flakes" by Llola Lane

"Fragile Flakes" by Llola Lane (inspired by the photograph "Fragile Flakes")

Fragile snow flakes sitting on a tree
Sparkle in the sun as they shine for me.