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)

A Carnival of Sights

by Peyton

Pavement spins. Faces blur.
Corpses weep blood on hospital's bleached linoleum.
A gun lifts, its barrel blocking vision until brain and skull splatter glass.
Blood trickles from bullet shattered limbs,
dripping on dark and cold concrete floors.
A body splayed like art stares down with sightless eyes, a clock behind it a cryptic clue.
Water distorts men in white coats who stare back through thick glass.
Bodies shining with sweat entwine, something like love confusing hatred.
Blackness chokes. Whiteness blinds.
A bird's eye view of the city dizzies.
A fist shatters the mirror reflecting a face that's not mine.


by Peyton

The world will never know it was saved by shadow- how Darkness embraced Death to protect this unkind, thankless planet.

I know. His presence— inky, tattered as it is— humbles me.

But even before he saved the world, he saved me. He gave me a purpose. Saw something worthwhile in a spoiled, scared uptown girl. Would I have made it otherwise? Or would I have slipped, succumbed to the madness that beckons to so many victims? Every moment I spend in his dark world, I learn what it means to be brave.

And I'm no longer afraid of the dark.

This Quintessence of Dust

by Peyton

Photographs whisper a story the world already knows- a little girl lost, and lost again. Did he fail her, or was it the other way around? Would it have been better (easier?) had she not been found? She cannot know.

A picture's worth a thousand words, they say, but she will never hear that many fall from his lips. Twenty-one years' worth of words cannot be spoken in mere moments.

Dust and photographs are all that remain.

He was intangible as dust, invisible in the darkness.

In the light, dust glitters like fool's gold— illusions of what could never be.

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