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)


by Veronica

Once upon a time, there was a path, seemingly straightforward and well lit, beneath her uncertain feet— as long as she didn't stray, she would make her journey's end safe, a happy ending to her story.

But life is no fairy tale. Forked serpent tongues split the road, with no sign posts to point the right from the wrong, the good from the bad, the just from the unjust.

Brambles and thorns tearing at her legs, the path is long lost. With nothing but wilderness to stumble through in the blinding darkness, she has to make friends with the wolf.

Faded Footsteps

by Veronica

A lab coat dwarfing her body, a stethoscope hanging down to her knees, the child holds the device to her father's chest, tilting her head to listen to the thumping in her ears.

"What will you be when you grow up?"

This, asked by a matronly relative, finding the antics charming.

Most four-year-olds' answers are outlandish dreams: cowboy, spaceman, lion tamer. Hers, precocious words spoken with a baby's lisp: "A neurosurgeon. Just like my Daddy is."

"Will you be Dr. Veronica?" the aunt asks.

"Dr. Sawyer, silly. Just like my Daddy."

Her dream? Turned out to be outlandish after all.

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