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.
Celebrating the first…
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…the heart of the sleepy town of Meadowbrook, nestled between rolling hills and fields of wildflowers, there lay a small, forgotten garden. Its gates, rusty and worn, stood ajar, inviting the curious passerby to step…
By Sofia Martinez
Read More…corridor of the space ship. As he walked, he stared out at the stars outside. The view of the galaxy would never cease to amaze him. The wonderful views through the…
By Chris Platt0
Read More…read the morning newspaper on the bus to work as usual. He checked his watch, he was running on schedule. He always arrived at the office early and was often the last to…
By Chris Platt
Read MorePaulie guides Becky…
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…walking back from classes, pondering the girls’ discussion conversation, that turned into a debatable argument, Paulie entered the barn where the zebra waited…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…Saturday night in July, Marie and her husband, Steve were flaked out on the sofa. On screen Tom Cruise was being chased by bad guys along the roof of a high-speed…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreThe Zebra listens to…
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…powerful friendship triangle foundation’s castle wall can be formed indestructible, frustrating a deceptive invading…
By Marc OBrien
Read More…ordered another round of drinks at the bar, Philip nodded to his reflection in the mirror. The date was going well, they were getting on well. It wasn’t a done deal yet. The next date…
By Chris Platt
Read MoreBusiness Trip to Native…
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…I were friends and work mates for a Fortune 50 Company in the greater Baltimore area. I was the Materials Manager and Bob was the Logistics Manager. The company was in difficulties because the printer/readers that had been sub-contracted to a minority…
By Philippe R Hebert
Read More…cursed and swore at the crawling line of city-centre traffic in front of him. He should have caught the train or maybe the bus, rather than drive. Driving into Manchester in the late afternoon rush-hour, what on earth had he been…
By Chris Platt
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