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.
It was a cold dismal night…
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…love me later slinky black dress. She watched him standing in the parking lot of The Soviet Union bar under an umbrella, with red neon lights blaring like some angry army. Noah had been waiting nearly an hour for God to come with the…
By D.A. Helmer
Read MoreEven the most perfect relationship…
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…was alive with people enjoying one of their famous dinner parties. When he closed his eyes he could hear their friends discussing politics, movies, the crazy tenants on the 2nd floor….and the sound of her spirited…
By Nancy Richy
Read MoreA journey in life.
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…walks along, the long darkened path, a flash of light strikes as rain begins to fall. 'The storm is coming'. His eyes look around the dark clouds up above in search of…
By Jordan Howat
Read MoreOn what is suppose to be…
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…out on the balcony the born into a social trap adolescent could see the other side and what the aristocrats were doing during classroom holiday. Spotting a shirtless Paulie accomplish sweaty work reminded her about how one reaches the wealthy level where it was affordable to assist…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…man was eighty-four. Every morning his Chesterfield chant was heard above the clatter of his cart on the cobblestones. His donkey ambled down Pride Street to McGee and Gibbon. His strawberry travels were part of the daily rhythms of the neighborhood. His jingle was the music of the day, and his wailing serenade through the dew was a sign to the neighborhood that they belonged…
By Giulio Magrini
Read MoreThe quest of an addict…
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…the needle broke off in my arm again. It's these cheap Insulin syringes the Nuns hand out by the park. They don't last more than two or three times then they're useless. You can't even sharpen the point on a matchbook without the flimsy needle breaking…
By Judge Santiago Burdon
Read MoreAfter dropping Princess Lida off…
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…celebrated ‘patriotism’ with the imperial family façade trying to establish a backbone stuck in the middle to the divided land on the border. Waving in the sunny blue skies high above the Princess Lida’s castle was a red, green…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…was struggling with writing his stories. He had been writing weird tales ever since he was a kid. Writing was the only thing he’d ever been interested in. It was also the only thing he had ever been told he was any good at. Over the years he’d had teachers rave over his stories…
By Chris Platt
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