The Calling of a Zebra

“Man serves the interests of no creature except himself.”

― George Orwell, Animal Farm


We were at a bar, with a stage that held a different comedian every ten minutes.

Drinks in hand, my thoughts swirled, and blurred into a floating haze.

I heard a joke, broken giggles shook my torso.

My gazes traveled around and across the room, not really holding an image.

And then I felt a gaze on me, soulful eyes of a Zebra’s head on the wall.

Dead, he stared at me with unsettlingly lively eyes.

I tried to took away, shift in my seat get up and get a glass of water.

But his gaze followed me, stalking every peculiar move.

Gurgling of laughs and chuckles filled the room, but he kept staring, unphased.

He was wearing a serious poker face as if to ask: why are you here?

I didn’t know if it was a taxidermy of an unfortunate beheaded Zebra or just an imitation of it.

I asked, why are you here, piercing me with your glance?

He merely gazed back in answer, watching me scornfully.



In response to the one-word prompt: Calling

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  1. pawprintsandmint says:

    What an unexpected and dark twist to the story of a seemingly good time
    loved it Em.

    1. Thank you, the twist surprised me too in the moment.

  2. This is so clever! And accurate portrayal of one too many drinks too!

    1. Thanks, the drinks definitely had an impact 😀

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