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)

Spin of a Penny

By Ryans

He is certain if he reached back, he'd find a knife embedded there. Buried deep between his shoulder blades for decades. Placed there by people he once called friends. By someone he fought in a war with.

He never knew it was there.

Forgotten long ago with the spin of a penny.

He was a loyal attack dog. Did as he was told, rarely questioned what was asked of him. Yet, now he knows they made him. Tore him apart, stole away what he had been, and put him back together.

Created long ago with the spin of a penny.

An Old Friend

By Ryans

The castle cuts a black silhouette in the dark.

The memories of that night are worn at the edges, but still able to hurt, as the small powered boat makes its way to the grave of the Ferrymen. Birds shriek unhappily at the invasion and swoop passed his head.

It was sad that bones were left to bleach out in the sun. No one brave enough to venture onto the cursed island.

It doesn't take long for his to find it. Still where it fell, covered with dirt and vines. His fedora.

"Hello, old friend, we have work to do."

Growing Old Again

by Ryans

Water streams down his face in rivulets as he looks up at the mirror, hands bracing at the edge of the porcelain sink, as he leans over the basin full of water. Turning his head a little to look at the silver that has started to thread it's way through dark hair.

Did he remember showing the signs this early?

Finger tips tug down a little at the corners of his eye, watching the lines smooth, but hints of creases remain. Didn't he already do this dance before?

The dance with time.

He get's to do it all over again.

Lost Target

by Ryans

Her lips are stained with my blood, as they curl into that seductive smile. I hold the limp body of my partner in my arms. Her tongue runs over her painted lips and my shoulder throbs from where she took that 'taste'. It'll scar.

We stare at each other across the distance, two predators, sizing each other up. Waiting.

I'll never ask what stopped her, what kept her from finishing what we started, but one moment her blood tinted teeth flash in a wicked smile, the next she was gone.

My lost target. That dark panther of a woman. Huruma.


by Ryans

I enduring time, still and silent, like a statue. Never really speaking of the pain. I try to keep it all inside. To harden my skin against life.

However, even the statue cracks with time, despite any attempted to preserve it. Bit and pieces, that make it what it is, fall away exposing the raw core. Weakens it and eventually the statue will crumble.

How much time before I crumble? How long before the cracks of time break me?I can not say, but til then… I will continue to endure, be like the statue. Hide all the pain away.

Grudging Respect

by Ryans

In a puff of smoke he'll be gone, that cocky son of a bitch. Floating away like dust on the wind, acting as if he's better then everyone else.

He gets under my skin, like so many thorns poking uncomfortably at my tender skin.

However, I will never show it, I won't give him the satisfaction of knowing what he does to me.

When it comes down to it, though, he is still on the same team with somewhat similar goals, even if in different departments.

For that, he gets some respect, even if I would rather just punch him.

The Lies of a Father

by Ryans

I raised my girls to be honest to never lie. That lies were bad and would only bring hurt to you and those you love.

I am a hypocrite.

Do as I say, not as I do.

I have lied to them their whole life. I have lied about what I did to keep a secret.

How long before my lies hurt the ones I love?

The only lie I haven't told is how much I love them and that I will do everything that need to be done to protect them.

Even if it means I have to lie.

That Much Longer

by Ryans

The years were closing in and I would soon be held in your arms again, to hear your sweet voice in my ear, and touch those red curls. My arms were open to the idea that my life was coming to an end. I was at peace with it.

Then in only a moment of blinding emerald light, he took his own life and made me young again. He pushed me further away from you and the embrace I've longed for since the madman took you away.

Twenty more years, Sweet Mary, before I can be held by you again.

Happiness: My Daughters

by Ryans

Happiness is my daughters.

Memories of my girls when they were first born, tiny fists curling around my finger, even as I found myself wrapped around their own. So tiny and helpless.

To watch them take those first steps. Arm raised and faces so full of happiness, as they stumble into my waiting arms.

Later on, it's watching those strong young women walk across the stage getting their diplomas and knowing they are not so little anymore.

One day, they too will know my happiness as the tiny fist of their own child curls around a finger, changing their world.

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