If you would like to submit a drabble (a short work of game-related fiction exactly 100 words), please @mail Queens with your submission, the title, the name you would like it to appear under and which category you feel it belongs best in.
Challenge Drabble for October 2018's the topic is Books.
316 String Theory drabbles written — and counting.
Categories
Abilities (9)
Animals (15)
Challenge: Books (10)
Character Study (101)
Family (43)
Life and Death (19)
Love and Relationships (108)
Miscellaneous (4)
New York City (6)
The Resistance (14)
Authors
Abby (19)
Adel (2)
Anonymous (14)
Asi (1)
Astor (1)
Audrey (2)
Aviators (1)
Barbara (1)
Bao-Wei (3)
Bella (3)
Benji (3)
Bolivar (1)
Cardinal (2)
Calvin (3)
Cash (1)
Claire (2)
Colette (4)
Cooper (2)
Corbin (3)
Dajan (1)
Danko (2)
Daphne (4)
Deckard (6)
Delia (2)
Delilah (21)
Eileen (15)
Elisabeth (2)
Emily (1)
Evan (1)
Faye (1)
Francois (7)
Gabriel (3)
Gillian (12)
Hannah (2)
Helena (6)
Howard (2)
Huruma (9)
Ingrid (2)
Iris (1)
Jane (1)
Jenny (1)
JJ (2)
Jonathan (1)
Joseph (3)
Joshua (2)
Judah (2)
Kaitlyn (1)
Kaylee (21)
Kincaid (2)
Lancaster (1)
Lene (2)
Lexington (1)
Logan (4)
Lynette (3)
Magnes (1)
McRae (1)
Melissa (32)
Meredith (1)
Monica (1)
Murdoch (1)
Nadira (1)
Nick (1)
Nicole (1)
Nora (3)
Odessa (4)
Pandora (2)
Peyton (3)
Quinn (1)
Raith (3)
Robyn (1)
Roderick (2)
Ruiz (2)
Ryans (9)
Sable (2)
Stef (1)
Sylar (1)
Tasha (3)
Tavisha (1)
Teo (8)
Tess (1)
Veronica (2)
Walter (2)
Dear Dorothy
by Audrey
I'll get you my little pretty, and your little dog too. I know what she means, I say it to myself in the mirror every morning when I check to see if I have any new freckles. I'll get you and your little dog too. Has more meaning these days. I'll get you and your two little dogs. You're little clones. I can see the one, parked in the lighthouse, sitting in an orphanage nice and safe. Bide your time Sylar, hide behind the image of a dead girl and play house to brats. I'll get you my little pretty.
Dear Cooper
by Audrey
There's just something that seems to just ripple from his toes and all the way up to his hair when he sees me or hears me coming. The way every strike of my heel reverberates through him, the momentary look that flashes across his face. Like a rabbit that's been caught bounding right through that sunny meadow by a badger. Or a hunting dog. He thinks badger. The fall of his face when I take the last powdered donut and the hound dog happiness to be given even half back. God. The power that the man gives me without knowing.