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.


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)

Writer's Block

by Helena

I've been staring at this blank screen for fifteen minutes now and oh God what if I cant think of anything? They're counting on me to know what to say, God, all the kids who come up to me and tell me how much they admire me, and I cant let them down, can I? The words have to come, because if I don't have them, I'm going to disappoint everyone, and I don't think I can bear that. People need to know that they have choices. They need to hear the truth. Oh God, the screen is still blank.

Lemon Sweet

by Helena

"There's a hole in the bucket, De-lilah, De-lilah…"

Those aren't the right words.

But it doesn't matter. Helena sings them in her sweet mezzo as she moves through the kitchen. She smells of citrus and baking things; when asked she just laughs at Dee and flicking some flour at her, tells the redhead that she just likes to stress bake. Wiping her hand against her cheekbone, Helena leaves a smudge there and Delilah wonders what Helena would do if she touched her face and then wipe it away with her thumb.

"There's a hole in the bucket, De-lilah, a hole…"

Ungrateful Child

by Helena

The room is cold but it doesn't matter because she feels like she is drifting in honey. Her arms and shoulders hurt from the awkward way that her wrists have been cuffed to the pipe, but she has long since learned how to tune out such discomforts. What disturbs her most are the visits, when she's brought what little food or water she's permitted, and she has to look at familiar faces, most especially his face. She can pretend not to see the others, but there is no way she can avoid him. She kneels before him, an ungrateful child.

Normal Girl

by Helena

To one man, a daughter.

To another, the sister he never had.

To yet another, a pawn he could maneuver as it suited him.

One saw her as an annoyance he might have to kill one day, but if he did, he'd reap the rewards in the doing of the deed.

She never really understood what she was to the one she chose to love, just ultimately not what he needed.

Most look to her as a would-be martyr.

All this one sees is an ass that fills out her jeans and a nice rack.

Helena likes it that way.

Without You

by Helena

The things you do? They drive me crazy.

Like how you insisted on calling them Homeland Satan.

Like how I cant seem to convince you that there's any music of value in the twenty-first century.

Like how you put all that faith in me.

That's the craziest of all, you know. It keeps me up at night, makes me wonder if someday you'll start to think you made a mistake. Makes me worry you'll realize that I am not deserving of your friendship.

The things you do? They drive me crazy.

And I don't know what I'd do without you.

Everything Burns

by Helena

She can't look into a fire without thinking of him.

The irony didn't escape her that all that remained of him was so much ash. Shed never believed that there could be a crucible too hot for him, but that night shed been proven wrong. If he'd been burned by his own flames, would he have risen again?

There would be no rising from those ashes. Only memories are left, but those memories were powerful enough to have built something. She's scared that she doesn't have enough of her own fire left to sustain it.

In the end, everything burns.

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