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.
…came bursting into the house, red-faced and sweating from playing out on the park with his friends. There was nothing he enjoyed more than tearing around with his mates. He had just a vivid imagination and everything was an adventure. His mother and father looked up from their paperback…
By Chris Platt
Read More…clutched his written story and looked around at his friends, his fellow story writers. They were gathered in his small apartment room, squeezed in on the sofas and sitting on the floor rugs, all eager to hear what he had written. The group exchanged stories, shared ideas and were, as far as…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreFaced boredom one…
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…hovered over the Farm on night 365 and young Paulie closed the schoolbook’s next chapter before pushing his chair out. Standing up motioning towards the door, he saw…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…around the vets waiting room, his Labrador flaked out on the floor in front of him. While his dog, Whiskey, was at the veterinary surgery for his check-up and booster, some of the other patients looked to be in for more complicated treatments. There was a Boxer dog with green gunk…
Read MoreThe scene through wall…
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…New York State Route 51, which runs north and south through the village of Morgan’s Landing, there was the Otsego House where local drinkers gathered…
By D.A. Helmer
Read More…for only a short while. I had it right in my hands. I’m still not sure if it escaped my grasp or if I intentionally let it go. I'll tell you this though, if there's a chance in hell to just touch it for a brief moment once again, I’d consider myself a lucky man. I bet there’s plenty more sorry bastards…
By Judge Santiago Burdon
Read More…the fourth. See, there were countless days in my journey, but I only count four." The old man continues, pointing his callous finger in some direction, "the first day I was born. On the second day, I met a squirrel. On the third day, I burned my…
By Blue
Read More…entered the coffee shop and headed for the counter. The place was full of people, each of them seemed different and quirky in their own way. Manchester’s Northern Quarter attracted a different type of person than other parts of the city. This lot were cooler and more hip than visitors to the rest of the…
By Chris Platt
Read More…flailed about on his bed, entangled in a mass of sweaty sheets and blankets. David slowly started to come out of his stupor, stuck in a surreal and frightening dimension between sleep and wakefulness. His eyelids felt stuck together and his mouth was…
By The Sicilian Storyteller
Read MoreA one-sentence tale of terror…
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…the legends of ancient sagas, it was a tenet of the madam of their unorthodox civic group, whom they lovingly referred to as “Mom,” that on each Halloween at midnight, exactly twelve hours after noon, they would team up with pals and slap each other silly…
By Ken Gosse
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