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.
Liam has always known he was adopted. His adoptive parents had always been honest about that. He did see Alan and Josie, who raised him, as his parents, but now, in his late twenties, he started to wonder about his biological parents. The idea niggled at…
By Chris Platt
Read More‘Oliver,’ Kevin called up the stairs, ‘dinner’s ready.’
Kevin paused a moment waiting for a response, any response, any sign of life …
By Chris Platt
Read MoreIn the summer of 2025, for one magical moment, it felt as though we were back in the 1990s. In my mind, I was no longer in my mid-forties; with a beer-gut, a mortgage and an office job I hated, I was a skinny teenage student once more. For one night only, we could…
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 MoreDavid was sitting at the writing desk in his study as he did most Sunday mornings. He sipped his Earl Grey tea from his cup and saucer, and stared out of the window over-looking the large garden. A bird, a robin perhaps, perched on the branch of a nearby…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreGareth was fed-up and feeling down. January had to be the toughest month of the year. Christmas had been wonderful, family and friends and lots of food and drink. But the dark, bleak days of January were just brutal. The initial…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreLynda headed down the street, eyeing the group with suspicion and hostility. As she passed by, she glared intently at them. They were just hanging around, loitering, lurking across the street. The group were trouble, she just knew…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreAs the boy and his best friend rode their bikes into town, he enthused about what a great day they would…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreThis was the biggest week of her life. Gina Riley had been painting, drawing, sculpting and generally creating art for as long as she could recall. And in a few days’ time her work would be on display in an exhibition comprising entirely of her own art. It was…
By Chris Platt
Read More
