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)

What is Home?

by Melissa

Home. I'm not sure I know where it is anymore. It was never where I was born. That was just geography, nothing more. It wasn't any of the safehouses I stayed in. They were just geography. Now I have a house, and I have roommates, but is it really a home? Or have I just began another safehouse, one outside of the realm of the Ferrymen? Would these people stay here with me if they weren't in danger or had somewhere else to go? Or do the people matter? What is it that turns it into a home? Tell me.

Keeper of the Dead

by Melissa

The body is heavier than it should be, and smells bad too. It looks so wrong wrapped up in the cheery blue tarp. But then, everything about this situation is wrong. A man in my basement, dead, bricked up behind a wall. Who knows how long he was down there. And I can't even put him to rest like he deserves, not if I want to keep myself and Kendall safe. At least I'm not alone. She's here, helping. She carries one end of the tarp, I carry the other, and we drag it upstairs. And then we are off.


by Melissa

Just when I decided to give up the fight, another door was opened. I wasn't looking for it, but it was there. A group of people, gathering to fight for us all. To be active rather than reactive. Taking the fight to THEM. We are not hiding, a single log in front of a raging river. We are strong, and willing. Someone has to be the force that opens up life to the evolved. Someone has to stand up and fight for our right to live like everyone else. And this time? This time, that someone is gonna be me.


by Melissa

Perception is a funny thing. It can blind us to the reality behind the illusion. Make us do foolish things in the name of what we perceive to be truth. It can make hell seem like paradise, and paradise seem like hell.

I've seen hell, the various levels of it. I've been in hell, seen it in the faces of people I know. And I've seen paradise. I stood at the precipice, ready to jump, and I faltered, because of what I thought it was.

Next time, I won't falter. Next time, I won't let anyone stand in my way.


by Melissa

Why should I fight? Why should I suffer for those I've never met. For those who will look at me in anger and hate rather than murmuring a single thank you. Why should I risk it all when things will never change? These people don't care. We're the minority. Maybe we'll die out, one by one, or get 'cured' by those who would control us. It's the holocaust all over again, though there's no war to save us. No country invading to protect us from those who believe us inferior.

So tell me? Why in the hell should I fight?

The Storm

by Melissa

I stand upon the rooftop, my face tipped up to the sky. Though my eyes are closed I can see the flash of lightning, the brilliant glow of it. Seconds later when the thunder booms and shakes the very foundation of the building I stand upon, I smile. The rain begins to pour down on me, soaking my hair and clothes, washing away all my fears, my worries. At least for the moment.

I stand in the middle of the storm, and I abandon myself to it willingly. Life is wild, and untamed, just like this storm. Just like me.

Shades of Gray

by Melissa

What would I do? That is perhaps the hardest question ever asked, Abby. How could I refuse to reclaim a lost part of me? How could I pass up the chance to do something as natural and necessary as eating or sleeping?

On the other hand, how could I give myself over to having an ability I want to use so badly, when it hurts people? Does it make me a bad person to want something like that? To want to want to use an ability that hurts?

I live in shades of gray, but fear sliding into the black.

Lose Myself

by Melissa

I thought I wanted the excitement. The thrill of the chase. The warm glow of helping someone like me. Saving them from the same things that I endured. And it is exciting. It is fulfilling. I hate being idle. Idle hands are the devil's playground. Though I don't believe in the devil.

But I need a release. Something that isn't life and death to focus on. I need to dance. I need to drink. I need a warm body to lose myself in. I need someone to share myself with. Even the darkest parts of me. Before I lose myself.

Jerry: Leather

by Melissa

I didn't mean to make her mad. I was just so lonely and bored! I saw a squirrel outside. It got to play in the snow. Why can't I play? It's fun! It's wet and cold and kicks up nicely when I run through it.

But I didn't mean to make her mad. The leather just smelled so yummy. How could I resist a nibble? And after a nibble, I couldn't resist sitting down for a snack.

Why did she keep leather around anyway? It's meant to be chewed on! Just like that bone. Mmmmm.

Besides. I'm just a dog!

The Den

by Melissa

It's such an unassuming place. Hidden beneath a butcher's shop and in an abandoned tenement building. No one thinks twice when they walk by. It's not there, it's not worth paying attention to.

But so much goes on here. We shelter those who need it. Keep them safe from the government that should be doing the protecting.. We care for the sick, who are forced to hide rather than seeking medical help.

We do important work here, in my place. I know I must share it, but it's mine.

And everyone who steps through that door becomes mine as well.


by Melissa

The land of the damned. Where the souls of the most evil, the most depraved go to spend eternity. That's your name. And slowly you're forming into a place that resembles the name. Or at least gives a hint of the meaning. The red lights, the darkness, the bleakness of design.

But it's missing something.

It's missing the crush of people. The heavy heartbeat. The screams of the damned.

But I can't see you as you're meant to be, not yet. It'll take some time yet, before you can properly welcome the damned.

Except here? Here we call them Goths.

Happiness: The Couch

by Melissa

Happiness is curling up in the dark. The lights flickering from the movie playing on the TV. The sound of screams and laughs and explosions. The smell of buttery popcorn heavy on the air. The taste of it. The feel of the warm body pressed against you. The strong shoulder that your head rests upon.

It doesn't matter what type of movie we pick. Whether we laugh or cry. If we cringe in the dark from the horror on the screen. That's irrelevant. What matters is that I'm happiest when I sit on a couch and watch movies. With you.


by Melissa

The beat is heavy. I can feel it in my bones. In my soul. It's addicting. But no more addicting than the press of people around me. Knowing that I'm crushed in the middle of a sea of humanity. And we're all there for one purpose.

It's primal. Natural. It feels so right. So good. So freeing. It's something that we've done since the dawn of time.

I close my eyes and tilt my face up, smiling as I bathe in the atmosphere. As I soak in every second, as if I could always remember?

How it feels to dance.


by Melissa

Sometimes I'm not sure if I like myself. What I've become. I can't be carefree. I can't just dance and watch movies. To make friends and find someone of my own. Someone to love. Maybe to begin a family with. To grow old with.

Instead I'm not sure I will grow old. I don't regret the fighting. I believe in the cause. I believe it's right. But sometimes I regret the things I'm forced to do to try to win that fight.

But in the end, it doesn't matter if I like myself or not.

I am who I am.

Mom and Dad

by Melissa

I don't expect much from you. I never did. I never expected to be praised when I did well in school. Or punished when I got in trouble. I didn't think that you would ever sit down with me and ask me if there were any boys I liked, or if I had any problems that I needed advice on.

No, I didn't expect any of that, though most people would have. Most people don't have to expect it. They simply receive it. It's not asked for, simply given when it's needed.

The one thing I did expect? Your love.

Peter II

by Melissa

You're so cute. That little half-grin and the awkwardness. How much you try to pretend like you're a good little boy with a girlfriend. Like you don't want me. But the act is all too apparent, darlin'. Even before I kissed you, I knew. The way you avoided touching me, and flinched when you did. Because it was wrong. You shouldn't like it, not if you really were faithful. But why pretend? Acts never make people happy for long. After a time, the illusion breaks down, and you're stuck with the truth.

And remember. The second time? You kissed me.


by Melissa

At first you were just a responsibility. And a frustrating one at that. But you are so innocent. More innocent than anyone else I've ever met, of any age. Too innocent. You don't know that what they've done to you is wrong. You don't know the difference between right and wrong at all. I find all I want to do is to help you. To make your life better. To introduce you to the world and let you experience it through a child's eyes while you still can.

Childhood is too short as it is, my dear. Don't waste it.


by Melissa

I took you under my wing, Luke. Into my house, to be protected from the same people who would lock me up as quickly as you. It was my job, but more, it's my calling. We're different, not wrong. But sometimes you make it hard to prove that. You're a poor example, my microwaveable friend. And you make it so hard to keep you under the radar sometimes. Do you want to go back to the hole? Do you want to be their little experiment? You accept my protection, this much is true, yes, but?

You blew up a bridge!


by Melissa

I didn't think I liked you, the first time we met. You insulted my clothes, or perhaps just me. Corsets are clothing, you know. But like a mold, you grew on me. Each visit you seemed a little less uptight, a little more human. A little less a girl I'd like to avoid, and more one I could spend time talking to. Someone I could go to when I needed to vent about work or guys. Always guys. I don't even have to censor my words. That's not something I ever would've expected.

But then, I have always liked surprises.


by Melissa

I'm not your mom. I'm too young for one thing. I'm not even sure I know how to be a good mom. Aren't you supposed to start when a baby, so you can learn even as the child does? I don't know how to be a mother to a teenager. I still remember ten years ago when I was your age, though the memories begin to dim.

But how can I deny you? Your own mother failed you. You didn't fail her. You deserve to have a normal family.

I'm just not sure I know what that is. What's normal?


by Melissa

When I climb into bed at night, I go there alone. With just a dog to warm my feet, but not the bed beside me. I reach out for you in the night, hoping that a passing dream has turned into reality, and you will be there next to me. To take me into your arms and hold me while the pitch black of the night fades into the gold and pink of sunrise.

But every morning when I wake, you're not there. Just cold sheets and a pillow still fluffed. So I sigh, roll over, and return to dreams.


by Melissa

There are things which forge a bond between two people who might otherwise have ignored each other. Things which make them as close as best friends or sisters. Or, in some case, even lovers. Tragedy is one, and perhaps that which is best known. Secrets are another. When you're an evil mastermind, your confidants become your bosom buddies. Who else can you brag about your devilish successes to?

But what happens when you share a tragedy? When you add a secret on top of that? The tie becomes tighter. It can strangle if you're not careful.

Am I that careful?

First Glance

by Melissa

When I first saw you, I was smitten. You weren't the prettiest of the bunch, nor did you have the best form. You weren't even the most charismatic. So what was it that drew me to you, I wonder?

Was it the smile?

The way you moved?

The haunted look in your eyes?

Whatever it was, I knew that I had to know more. I had to discover what made you smile. How to make you move to me. How to wipe that look from your eyes.

Now I must ask. What did you see when you first saw me?


by Melissa

I stand alone on the brink of war. A war that has already begun in places. There have been casualties on both sides, and I'll fight to keep from being the next.

But I don't want to fight alone. Is that why I try to take him? Is it nothing more than loneliness? Or is there something there? Something real? How do I know the difference? I've never been in love before. Never had someone to call my own.

Part of me screams to fight, always to fight, but the skeptical side? it tells me to wait. I'll find someone.

The Truth

by Melissa

Is it true? What they say? I don't want to believe it, but part of me wonders. Part of me fears. If it's true, I don't know if I can stay. I don't know if I can trust you. It isn't something that I can easily forgive, and certainly not something that I can forget. It's horrible the things you may have done, the people you may have hurt. But how can I know for sure? If I ask, you may lie, and I would accept the lie, because it's what I want to be true.

Spare me the truth.


by Melissa

"We are unique, special. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"But they told me that I was a freak! That I'm wrong somehow. That I shouldn't be. Maybe they're right."

"No, they're just jealous, or confused. We are evolution, sweetie. We are what is to come. A taste of the future. Foreshadowing, you could say. They want to be us, darlin'. That's all."

"You mean they wish they had powers like we do?"

"That's exactly what I mean. People tend to hate things that they don't understand, or hate those who have things that they want."

"I'll share with them."

A Promise

by Melissa

The world is a dangerous place, my sweets. Full of pitfalls and bad guys and accidents just waiting to happen. But I'll protect you. You may not realize that you have a safety net beneath you. You may not want a safety net. But you have one.

I cannot let you go through life suffering as I have suffered. I cannot bear to see you cry over a loss or a wound that will only heal on the surface.

So I will stand in front of you as a shield. I will take the loss, and the pain.

I promise.


by Melissa

We're trying to change the world, one person at a time. One opinion, one life. Every time we convince one person we're not the monsters they believe us to be, we win a victory. Every time we rescue one person, save one life, we win a victory.

These victories, however small, add up, like drops of water into an empty lakebed. One by one we will fill the world with the truth. And on that day, we'll have won not just a battle, but the war. We will no longer be forced to hide in the shadows, whispering our propaganda.

Normal Life

by Melissa

Who wants a normal life? Normal is boring and repetitive. Just work and dinner and sleep. Maybe something fun on the weekends.

My life is exciting! It has action and excitement. Danger and thrills. No two days are ever the same. But no two days are ever the same. There is pain and loss. There is horror and tragedy. So many things witnessed that cannot be unseen.

The choice is between being normal and being an unsung hero. No recognition. No parades, no parties. Just the knowledge that you helped.

So who really wants a normal life?

Not me? Right??

The Ferrymen

by Melissa

It's a thankless job. No one can see what you do. How much you help. No one even knows you exist.

But that's the way you want it, right? That's the way it has to be. You couldn't help if everyone knew. If everyone could find you and recognize your face on the street.

So there won't be any autograph signing for you. No "I want to be you when I grow up" from little kids. Just the suffering and horrors that you try to avert every day.

How can you be a hero if no one knows your name?

Fear the Princess

by Melissa

I don't need no stinkin' white knight. No hero to come rescue me from the dragons. I'm no damsel in distress, sitting up in a tower waiting around to be rescued. No Daphne to always get captured.

Princesses can be just as fierce as the knights who want to protect them. We can be just as deadly to anger, and just as hard to kill. So why are we considered weak? No one wants to mess with a mama bear, and lionesses are the ones who hunt while the lions stay at home babysitting.

Fear the princesses, my white knights.


by Melissa

The weather outside is frightful.

Plows try to clear the streets and businesses shut down. It's too much trouble to get to work today!

Yes, it's fun for kids. Snow day! Time to go have snowball fights and make snowmen and snow angels! Time for hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows, and sitting in front of a raging fire.

But on the other side of the city, people suffer. They huddle under threadbare blankets, and gather around burning cans of trash. They shiver and wonder if they will survive until tomorrow.

Will tonight be the last night of winter for them?

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