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 short story from a work in progress called Little Crimes.
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…day was an early start for Kurt and Regalia. He was waiting for her, as usual, stamping his feet and blowing into his cupped hands. When Regalia finally arrived, tall and scruffy, she was wearing her usual green cardigan. Her brown hair was in a messy knot, and she didn’t look…
By Jessika Jenvieve
Read More…wanted a hobby, but it had to be an unusual one. He knew people who knitted, crocheted, painted, coached football, collected comic books, and played complicated card games. He wanted a hobby that no one else, or at least that few people…
By Anita G. Gorman
Read MoreBe a part of Ryan's journey to find his dad. Was he able to find his dad or did he give his…
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…multiple fathers and only one mother. While playing on the block with kids from the street one day, Chris came up to me. Chris lived two blocks away from me and was always into music. That day was Chris's birthday and his dad gifted him a flute. I remember being envious but I wasn't sure…
By Renu Thapa
Read More…walked down the aisles of the classroom, returning the marked exercise books to her pupils. The seven-year olds flicked to the latest pages to see what marks they had been given. Some were happy with the marks they had been given. They waved their open books for their friends to see, boasting about their mark. Others huffed and tutted, closing their books flat on the desk and saying…
By Chris Platt
Read More…losing my memories. I’m losing my mind. The fright of something new forgotten brings me to tears each time. It began with forgetting to take objects from one place to another. Some things like to forget my phone charger at work. Forgetting to bring a book to work. Then from objects, I started to forget…
By Matilda Beck
Read More…shuffled across the office. He avoided eye-contact with his colleagues but mumbled good morning as he went by. He dropped onto his chair and sighed in relief once he was safely hidden from view behind his computer monitor. He booted up with computer as the others on his bank of desks drifted into work. They bid him good morning and asked if he’d had a nice…
By Chris Platt
Read More…drove along, making the routine, daily drive home from the office. He was mulling over what to have for tea. It would be something sent in, that was for sure. He had earned a takeaway after a rubbish day at work. It was a toss up between a curry with all the sides and garlic naan, or a kebab the size of a roll of carpet. He turned the car-radio volume up and sang along with the rock radio…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreTrigger warning: includes scenes of captivity and violence
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…and she had been broken repeatedly. The scars a testament to her time here, being held by this thing. She would rather not think of him as a man. It was a thing, horrid and scared just like her. He came in the night and she could see the sun starting to fade through the small glazed over…
By Wil R.P. McCarthy
Read More…this is Tom Dillan.’
Tom turned in his chair to greet the new member of staff.
‘Tom,’ his manager said. ‘this is Dave Barrett.’
Tom stood and shook his…
By Chris Platt
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