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.
You find out that everyone you ever knew, met, and loved were dead long ago. Everything around you starts to slowly disappear. Then you look at your reflection in a mirror and realize you were just a broom all along.
By Cristina WilCraft
Read More...destroy the most patient of people. Energy begins to flow through his body, surging and pumping and slushing from and around his body. The warmth of togetherness takes over, but he’s alone. A connectivity with inanimate objects in the surrounding environment create understandable confusion, but he embraces where he is going. He agrees to be taken.
Breathing loses its automatic drive and becomes a conscious activity. No noise to be heard, but it sounds beautiful. Synesthesia has the walls melting into strawberry flavored silk and the leaves on trees solidifying into round loud clouds.
He’s confused, but refuses to let it scare him. There is something to be learned where he’s heading. As his confining walls vanish into the nothing behind him, reality is stripped away and he begins to lose the awareness of what makes him who he is. He is one with everything.
An overwhelming joy burst forth and rips his body to shreds. The glass from which his body is constructed shatters into a pile and liquefies, spreading evenly across...
By Carlos Zenof
Read MoreGreen polka dots appeared in the sky. No one knew where they came from. They couldn’t look away. The world was mesmerized, yet unknowingly frozen where they stood. Too tranced to notice anything wrong. One by one green spots disappear, as would the people. No one was left to witness when the sky finally cleared.
By Paula Chapman
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The sounds of the piano playing interrupts the silence as the snow drops. The window leads to a forest now covered in white. She wants to go into the forest but it’s too dark out and the piano is still being played. She joins him instead. She says nothing not wanting to interfere with the musician. She sits right next to him as he concentrates on where his fingers are moving. She watches them dance madly as they create a beautiful melody. She closes her eyes and imagines they are the ones dancing to it. What’s important to her isn’t the music as lovely as it is. ‘Is this love?’ she wonders. She hopes so.
By Aubrey D.
Read MoreButterflies churn the pit of the stomach with nauseating uncertainty. “Is today the day?” echoes vividly through the mind like schizophrenic whispers trying to convince the innocent through maddening persistence. Hesitant jitters and quaking hands defeated by obsessively uncontrollable impulses to reach out and graze soft full lips.
By Amber Black
Read MoreEric drew a cute giraffe. Jim wasn’t having it. It was his turn to draw. He had just gotten out of work and was starving from not eating all day. Now waiting for what seemed like forever for his fish. And then there was Tom his least favorite person in his family already saying something inappropriate about him. He took the crayons and paper. He drew a car, a stick figure in the car holding a gun towards the giraffe, and colored blood on the giraffe. His young cousin Sophie was shocked. She drew X’s over its eyes. Jim had murdered Eric’s cute giraffe.
By Levi Hall
Read MoreHe pulls the cuff on his suit jacket down, checks his silver watch, and looks back up at the children. He’s reading them a book. Taking part in his duties as a fearless leader. Oblivious, he claims, to the conflict occurring inside his empire.
A dark omen consumes his nation.
In moments of privacy he takes deep breaths, panicking from the memory of the lives lost. Reproductions from his decisions to create a mutual enemy between the residents and his bloodline. Someone they’ll unite against.
It’s noon. Time for him to lie to his people. To tell them how their hero has saved the day with his glory and genius.
By Erik Sohji
Read MoreTwo young girls draw and color their scribbles all day. The older teaches the younger about types of colors. And how the problem with being left handed when you color is the stain marks left on your pinky. The younger one noticed.
“Look,” she points at her sister’s dirty blue finger.
“Oh,” the older one responds and licks the smudge off.
“What did it taste like?” the younger one asked.
She thought about it before answering. “It tasted like blue,” she said.
By Emma Smith
Read MoreAngelina was scared. The crippling fear of standing in the front of the line had her sluggishly packing her things and leaving the classroom. She didn’t want to lead the line. The slightest chance something would go wrong was enough to avoid it entirely.
Occasionally, it happened regardless of her efforts.
By Mercedes Albenstien
Read MoreHe will not divide us.
He does not have enough money to divide us.
He does not have the brains to divide us.
He does not have the friends to divide us.
His position in government isn’t high up enough to divide us.
His hopes and dreams are not strong enough to divide us.
His god is not powerful enough to divide us.
His work has not built a reputation big enough to divide us.
His life is too meaningless to divide us.
His purpose is not great enough to divide us.
He cannot divide us.
HeWillNotDivide.Us
By Seth McAllister
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