The Abstract Art Gallery
A writing gallery created by writers from around the world. From poetry to song lyrics, from essays to entire novels and short stories.
I’ve been writing stories since he was a kid. Being a writer was all I ever wanted to be. It was a childhood hobby that I never quite grew out of. All my family and friends would read my stories. As soon as I finished typing up my story, I would…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreLisa had no idea how she got there. She sat up and took in her surroundings. She was bed, in a bedroom, with morning sunlight spilling in through the gaps in the curtains. A man in his thirties entered the …
By Chris Platt
Read MoreTom followed the directions on his Sat Nav, peering through the windscreen, trying to tie up the road up ahead, with the lines on the small screen on the dashboard. He repeated the name of the old place to himself, as though that …
By Chris Platt
Read MoreDaniel Fury was spending Saturday afternoon as he often did, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a pint of bitter and reading his book. There was something almost magical about reading a good book over a nice pint of beer, in a cosy …
By Chris Platt
Read More… didn’t speak to his brother Carl that often. They were very different people, living different lives. They saw each other very occasionally if they happened to be visiting their parents at the same…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreKeith Martin was in coffee shop, grabbing his morning coffee, on the way to the office. He was about to leave with this take-out coffee, when someone called…
By Chris Platt
Read More…Tina got dressed for work, all he could think about was the argument with Jimmy the night before. They had been arguing in the street. As well as the embarrassment of airing their dirty laundry in public, as they say, there was the strain it was putting on their …
By Chris Platt
Read MoreA pilgrim bound for Earth…
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… bowed in the direction of Earth, completed the Isha prayer, rolled up his mat, and stowed it under the …
By Michael McCormick
Read More…stopped off at the corner shop on his way home from work, as he did every Friday night. The guy behind the counter smiled as he …
By Chris Platt
Read MoreThere was just enough …
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… was in the passenger seat of Mac’s black Impala SS, a new ‘66 model. They were parked along the Mohawk River, near the bridge, in the valley. Crickets and peepers were screaming at each other for …
By D.A. Helmer
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