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.
…are out on your own, having left your mama, who was left by your dada, but you don’t ever think about it anymore. Actually, you never did. You enjoy your neighborhood and you have never left it. You’re familiar with the streets and many of the inhabitants. It’s the whole world to you, yet you don’t stay in any one place too long within it. Except when you’re sleeping. And you sleep as much as you…
By Dan Brook
Read More…recall a professor, reading a dark red covered book. This academic saw me looking, turned with a wicked smile and said…beauty is something you don’t notice until you reach a certain age. It’s invisible to children. It is there, but they look right through it. Thought we’d test this…
By Karen Lethlean
Read More…the bombardment intensifies, she curls in the fetal position, hands clamped over ears. The bunker shakes, concrete walls quivering like paper, shockwaves vibrating through her bones. Screams catch in her throat as, all alone, she endures it. But when the onslaught eventually ceases, she crawls determinedly from her sanctuary to survey the wasteland she once called…
By Helen M Merrick
Read More…palpable excitement rings the atmosphere. The two pairs of yearning eyes meet covertly under the marquee; the first delicate touch of alien hands creates ripples through the spines. The heart pounds at the fragrance of a fresh commencement. The appetence for the anonymous swells in their bosom with each passing moment of their ebullient life. The mystery of the undiscovered selves gradually…
By Alipi Das
Read More…been exactly twenty three days eight hours forty one minutes and eight seconds now. I’m sitting on the same bench in the same corridor outside the same room with a white door reading the same letters - ICU. Mom is in there, on one of those lined up beds with people lined up to die. She has spent quite a lot of time in the hospitals and I’ve spent exactly the same and eaten more hospital food than her but this…
By Tamanna Malik
Read MoreA 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
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