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)
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Bao-Wei (3)
Bella (3)
Benji (3)
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Dajan (1)
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Melissa (32)
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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)
Phone
by Bella
Dad, it's me. I'm fine, I'm fine! Tell Mom I'm fine.
No.
insistently
No, Dad, really, it's important that I stay here.
Yes for my job, Dad. Yes, I understand.
stammering
Christmas? I- I'll have to-
What?
I'm sorry, Dad. No, I just-
Okay. Okay. I'll be there at Christmas. Even though we're not Christian.
laughing
Solstice rite, fine.
I- what? Um- no. No, I don't think so.
No, I- really, it's just-
I'm not going to lie, but I don't have to say.
Yes, a father has a right to ask, and a daughter has a right not to answer.
Dad.
Daddy.
I promise you, I'm okay.
Untitled III
by Bella
The real problem comes with the 'What next?' It may be that the feeling summed up in those two little words is precisely what gets her in so much trouble. There must always be… something else. And if it's not something she wants, it's something she doesn't want and thus she wants to get away from it. A push, a pull, some new worry or regret or wish or desire. And all of it just… 'what next?' Both fearful in anticipation, and hungry for more.
The present painful, unless you obliterate concern for the future, and thought of the past.
First Death
by Bella
You've heard the saying, about 21 grams?
The weight of the human soul.
Horseshit, of course. Actually, that's unfair to horseshit, which is very real and is maybe useful as fertilizer, I don't know.
The first death I saw was a coronary victim. Shouting and fast chatter from the EMTs. Made me want to hide behind a crash cart, tiny med student that I was. But the crash cart is what they needed, so I wheeled it over.
They couldn't revive him.
I knew it was a first. I felt him get cold.
Man to carcass. A matter of degrees.