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.
Mobile phone addicts travel on a phone-free coach tour to the coast
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…loved the kitchen's colour scheme. Cream and white. It attracted light into the room and gave a feel of expanse. She had chosen the colours…
By Richard Prime
Read MoreWhat we intend doesn't ensure what we achieve.
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…thought Benny Gantz was a Jew. Ya’ know, ‘cause of the name. If Benny had ever been a Jew, it must’a been a long time ago. Now he’s just a nickel & dime crook, the kind’a guy Chandler would’a called a street punk. Benny looked out for Benny. The only higher-power he respected was anybody…
By K. L. Shipley
Read More…turned onto the high street, dashing in between the cars, and finding a gap in the traffic, crossed over the road. As she stepped onto the kerb on the other side her mobile phone rang. She rummaged in her coat pocket for her phone. Still walking, she hit the green answer…
By Chris Platt
Read More…prejudice, job discrimination on the basis of race!” Robert’s voice boomed as he shouted his complaint towards the waspish, angular man, essentially his boss. With a pinched expression, and wire-rimmed bifocals, Moorhead wore a tailored suit and polished shoes worth a few months mortgage. “It’s illegal and could get us sued and publicly…
By John Tavares
Read More…getting colder every day. He didn’t really have any way of fighting the cold either. As it was, he was already wearing just about every piece of clothing he owned. The only things left in his army surplus backpack were a couple of t-shirts and one pair of socks. Of course there was the ratty sleeping bag too, but that was for nights, when it got really…
By B Hazy
Read MoreThe Gidat fall to an evil King with unnatural powers.
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…was the heart of Sadat. People filled the Sacellum, the place gidats returned to every three unters to hear the Gidat. The holy sanctuary was rivaled only by the Palace which stood on Hilltop looking down on the…
By Eme Savage
Read More…thumbed through his paperback book as the bus trundled across Salford. He tried to concentrate on the novel while also keeping an eye on where he was. He really didn’t want to miss his stop. He completed his journey, half in the real world, and half in the noir world of the gritty thriller he was engrossed in. As he read, ideas for stories of his own popped in his head, some were twists on the story…
By Chris Platt
Read More…said from the desk. The night crew left the confetti on the floor from the day prior. Their inmate named Nightshade was let go. They threw him a party; the confetti was toilet paper bleeding with ink; many of them had fresh tattoos from their celebration. The night clerk reported the scene but the night crew let them have at it. Nightshade was a robust guy with wide…
By Candace Meredith
Read More…hopped off the bus with a smile on his face. As the bus doors hissed shut behind him, he headed down the high street. There was nowhere like Manchester city centre. He could spend hours mooching around the city. He particularly enjoyed the area known as the Northern Quarter. The streets had a buzz all of their own. The Northern Quarter had an old-fashioned yet…
By Chris Platt
Read More…was pulling on his coat, about to leave for another day of nine-to-five drudgery and office politics, when the letter came through his letterbox. It landed on the mat, face up, lying invitingly. The top corner of the white envelope bore the hallmark of Esther Dennis, the latest publisher he’d submitted his novel…
By Chris Platt
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