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.
A boy grapples with his mother's abandonment through lies.
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…sitting with my older sister Nancy, we catch snatches of conversation. Dreamer. Unfit mother.
Images rise to my mind: Dark wit, contracting temper, triggered by a loose dish or something…
By Yash Seyedbagheri
Read More…had become dehydrated. Trees poured out saffron. Brittle straws clung to mother earth, there was a stream of orange lawn. The soil was made of sand. It caved in and became hollow. A hole in the soil where I slept in awakening. I felt nothing first. Then a hunger rose. I ate my hunger, I walked in a dream. Dream of life. There was silence in my heart. It whispered an autumnal dirge, there was a war. And I was a wounded…
By Mehreen Ahmed
Read More…most ordinary folk, the day was not special—fluffy clouds, warmth, and a regular routine.
For the Centaur and the Dragon, the day was Epochal—never had a day like this dawned.
The Centaur’s name was Nautal, the Dragon’s…
By Alexander Zoltai
Read MoreVisiting the 1931 theater each summer, reminds me of the rigid in-place modis operandi, of certain managers regarding this historical landmark.
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…the white clapboard Art Deco Theater, patrons drifted into small groups on a warm summer's evening.
People ignored other…
By Antoni Ooto
Read More…her white paper parasol with pink cherry blossoms printed on it raised it above her head, Cybill walked past the line of those standing at the ticket booth and pushed her way through the revolving metal bars and entered the zoo. Going past the swans sitting in the dark gray water of the pond she acknowledged them with a quick nod, and then did the same with the giraffes standing at the fence of their pen as she passed…
By Steve Carr
Read MoreA boy's mother leaves him to move in next door, and the boy discovers a hidden side of his mother.
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…into her window at night. She waltzes to Tchaikovsky. How graceful she is, moving from one corner to another, arms outstretched, legs moving in tandem. Is she thinking about childhood? She dreamed of being…
By Yash Seyedbagheri
Read More…we arrived it was already time for the fourth race of the day. The race we wanted to see was still an hour away. Someone at his workplace gave my dad a tip, so we were checking it out. The pari-mutuel windows were manned, but an obviously inebriated man was being escorted from window number 6. He was shouting obscenities while claiming he had been in line to place a bet before the allotted time had…
By Robert L. Scarry
Read MoreToday's views stir yesterday's memories.
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…out of my window I realized it might not be pretty, but there was a lot of good to be said. The sky had a pseudoglow grey tint with a hint of pending snow. Not likely, I reasoned, it appeared cold, but the temperature was holding at fifty-one …
By Robert L. Scarry
Read More…had to go away. It was not forever. Mama told the rest of them to stay inside until she came home. Lucia watched them get in the taxi and thought that Cecilia would like a ride in a taxi. The rest were watching TV, but no one sang along with the commercials. Lucia heard Cecilia ask Mama why she was crying, and then left the window to sit in Sofia’s lap. She was warm. A car’s engine hummed and gravel…
By Christina Rauh Fishburne
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