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.
…rain was falling heavily. It was like driving through a thick curtain of water. He eased off the accelerator a little. Had to be careful driving on wild nights like these. The las thing you’d want is to have an accident or breakdown. You just want to be at home on these stormy nights. The thwack-thwack of the windscreen wipers was hypnotic. He stared out into the glow of the headlights. The rain sounded like white noise…
By Chris Platt
Read More…my mother sent me to school, her only child, before the age of 7 years like other children in South Africa, it was if in a hurry to re-collect herself as a childless woman. She said I was smart boy and ahead of my age, and in her words, ‘You’re wasting time at crèche,’ which meant money. But I was frail and little. And I walked like I was wet. In a genuine sense of this expression: my school uniform wore…
By Tshepo S. Molebatsi
Read MoreThe end of the road for a desperate man
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…body began to slump and he had to push himself up to a sitting position once again. "One more taste of vodka. For courage. Ah, the French use this same word for having the balls to do what you have to…
By Steven Jakobi
Read More…told me he climbed to the top of a tree one day to see over the forest at the edge of the farm. He said what he saw was quite strange. Everything was reversed. People were dragged by their shadows, books vocalized their stories; you didn’t have to read them, pets took the human they owned for strolls. and…
By Dresden Fear
Read More…stretched in bed. He looked at the woman smiling down at him. He glanced around the bedroom. It was an ordinary couple’s room. Framed pictures of the two of them hung on the walls and stood proudly on bedside cabinets. Toiletries and perfume bottles littered the dressing…
By Chris Platt
Read More…had been in the home for almost five years. At seventy seven years old a widow for nearly a decade, the home served its purpose. He was comparatively healthy and tried to keep as fit as his age and the nursing home regulations would allow. He got on well with the other residents and the staff. Even the…
By Chris Platt
Read More…mouth of the tunnel swallows me. It
takes time for my eyes to adjust, then notice drifting shadows. I glance behind me but a
sheet of sheer black nothingness blocks any view. No going back. Step by…
By Meryl Baer
Read More…held the door open. He waved for the next patient to come in. An overweight bullish man shuffled into his office. He glanced at the word Therapist on the door and sighed. Goddard took a chair and pointed to the chair facing. The man nodded and sat down. The doctor flicked through his printed…
By Chris Platt
Read More(Inspired by a photo I took in Oban Bay, looking at the Isle of Kerrera) April 2017
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…just an empty chest of memories. It had gained life when a young couple moved to the Island. Both were ambitious and happy, enjoying the breeze at sunset and observing every gesture of every people in the small town. There was never anything that could separate them. No conflicts, only a…
By Inês Reis
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