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DRABBLE TRIO
by KAEERA
RATED FRC

These drabbles were written in response to the 2006 Tracy Island Writers Forum's Drabble Challenge. The challenge was as follows:

Choose three of the following six topics and write one drabble for each of the topics you chose. You will wind up with three 100-word drabbles on whichever three topics you chose. Here are your choices:

A) Scott during a rescue (could be his thoughts, someone observing him, something he's actually doing, etc.).
B) Virgil while playing the piano (again, could be his thoughts, someone observing/listening, etc.).
C) Gordon's and Alan's relationship as brothers (one or both of them thinking about it, one of them thinking about the other, someone else ruminating on their relationship, etc.).
D) Lady Penelope (either her thoughts or someone else's about her/what she does, etc.).
E) The Thunderbirds (perhaps the ship's actual POV or someone's thoughts about one or all of them, etc.).
F) Parody drabble (anything goes, parody style).


Drabble One

Scott stretched out his hand, then hesitated. The air smelled of smoke, vibrated with painful screams, but here it was silent. Or maybe he just couldn't hear anymore. He touched the body, checked for a pulse. Blood matted long, blonde hair, bruises covering a childish face. No movement. Sightless orbs were staring up at him. His hand clenched in a fist, then released as he slowly closed those eyes. A last sweep through the dirty hair, then he stood up, the weight of the world on his shoulders.

"No survivors," Scott rasped into the headset, voice rough. "I'm coming out."


Drabble Two

- Virgil -

I'm so nervous that my hands are trembling. God, what if I screw up? What if I forget my notes?

Someone prods me in the back. "Your turn!" a voice whispers sharply.

I stumble forward, on the stage, into the bright light. Hundreds of eyes focus on me. My hands start sweating. I want to turn and run away. But I can't.

My fingers hit the keys. The first chord fills the room - and the fear vanishes. Suddenly, the others have lost their importance. My fingers fly over the keys and I close my eyes. Just me and the music.  


 Drabble Three

"You're bleeding!"

Gordon sprints towards me, his eyes wide. I want to laugh, because there's no way I can be bleeding, after all, I don't hurt - but then he points to my torn sleeve and I see that it's coloured in an angry red.

"Oh." Then the pain hits, and I stagger, gasping. Right before I crash to the ground, Gordon catches me. He's not smiling. That's really strange, because Gordon is always smiling, or laughing, or smirking, orůmy thoughts wander. I wait for the joke, for the light-hearted quip that's always on my brother's lips, but it doesn't come.

 
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