Author's note: these drabbles were written for the TIWF challenge to write 100 words on the following

A) Scott on a rescue

B) Virgil playing the piano

C) Gordon an Alan's relationship as brothers

D) Lady Penelope

E) The Thunderbirds

F) a parody

Standard Disclaimer: I acknowledge Granada as the copyright holders of these characters and thank Gerry Anderson for creating them.


"Virgil, come in please."

I look at the clock on Mobile Control. It's been ten minutes since he went into that burning building and I'm starting to feel concerned. He should have reported in by now.

I rub my sweaty palms against my thighs. This is the part of my job that I hate. The others may think I have it easy, sitting here, giving orders. They don't realise how hard it is for me to sit still and send them into danger, when all my instincts cry out to protect them.

"Virgil, do you read me?" Answer, damn you!



"Virgil Tracy! Get away from that piano at once!"

The little boy gave a guilty start as a stern voice cut through the air. Reluctantly he climbed down from the piano stool and turned to face his grandmother.

"I wasn't playing, Grandma. Honest, I was only looking!"

It just wasn't fair that he was being punished. OK, he had hit Alan, but his younger brother had deserved it for knocking the water across Virgil's newly-finished painting. He walked from the room, a picture of dejection, turning to give his piano a last, forlorn look. Tomorrow was a long way away.



I close the book and look up but you haven't moved. John said you didn't like 'Moby Dick' but I thought, fine, you can always wake up and tell me that yourself. I look at you lying there, tubes and wires connecting you to all the machines that surround you. Your chest moves slowly, but there is no other sign of life. What is going on under that copper thatch of yours? Are you dreaming? Why did you have to be in that damn hydrofoil anyway? I'm the speed freak of the family, not you.

Why won't you wake up?



As the train enters the tunnel I watch the lights from the windows flickering on the tunnel wall. As ever, my mind goes back to another train, another tunnel. Lying tied to the rail, looking up at the train roaring only inches above me, while you lay with your body shielding mine and your hand resting on my cheek. It was a terrifying experience, but at the same time, one I will always treasure. Our eyes met in that flickering light, and something special passed between us. Or is this just a silly woman's imagination?

Did you feel it too?



God, she's so beautiful. And she's mine.

I stand at the bottom of the silo, craning my neck as I look up towards the nose of the mighty rocket. I can still hardly believe that Dad has put me in charge of this, the biggest of the Thunderbird fleet. OK, I know Scott will be co-pilot, but I feel Dad is showing his trust in me. I'm no longer the irresponsible kid who nearly got thrown out of college when my model rocket exploded, blowing out half the windows on the campus.

I won't let you down, Dad, I promise.


This last one, though technically too long for a drabble, is too short to post on its own, so I am including it here.

It was inspired over the Brits get-together in Nottingham in summer. One of the group was from Wales, so you can blame her for this!


John stared at the console, his palms sweating. This was it – his worst nightmare come true. Tentatively he reached for the switch that connected him to Base.

"What have you got for us, John?" Jeff was businesslike as always.

"A bad case of subsidence, Father. A bus carrying a load of children has fallen down an old mine. The village is in a remote part of north Wales and the local rescue services have asked for our help."

"FAB, John. Scott's on his way. What's the location?"

John swallowed. "It's Lan… " he hesitated. " Clan…" the rest of the sentence was a mumble.

"Sorry, John, I didn't quite catch that."

John had a sudden inspiration. "It's Latitude 53 degrees, 10 minutes North, Longitude 4 degrees, 15 minutes West. "

As John signed off he couldn't stop a small smile from playing across his face. Scott was always so sure of himself, in any situation. Let him deal with the authorities at Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwll-llantysiliogogogoch