A Collection of Short Stories

The Zebra's Stripes

At first, the zebras were white. They had chosen that colour because they loved the creamy puriness of the moon. Many mistook them for unicorns with their long, slender legs, slim silver bodies and sleek, flowing manes and tails.

They would run in herds through the night, flashes of white among the flitting trees. When the full moon came out, they would stand in it's radiance and allow the light to display their grace and poise. They could prance and leap and were the most elegant creatures on earth.

But one night, as the zebras basked in the moonlight, hunters prowled in the shadows. They carried spears and walked silently. The hunters wanted the zebras for their skin, hair and to use as mounts.

The zebras, believing that they were the kings of the plains, didn't think that anyone would dare attack them and so had no idea of the incoming danger until it was too late.

The hunters sprang from all sides and slaughtered a great few. The rest they roped up and tied behind them to their settlement. For years the zebras worked as slaves, pulling ploughs, carrying heavy packs and humans, and being forced to entertain their captors by acting the fools. The zebras longed to return to the wild, where they could run and leap and be free again.

It was heart-breaking for the zebras to watch other animals dodge and hide from the humans. Monkeys with their brown skin, leopards with their black spots and parrots with their green feathers.

The many hard years of work began to tell on the once beautiful zebras. Their legs shortened under the weights they were forced to carry and became stubby. Their bodies became barreled-shaped from muscle and their manes and tails turned grey from dust.

One day, a young zebra was reaching to eat the grass on the other side of the fence. But the grass was so far away, he had to rub himself against the hard, wooden fence to reach it. After he had eaten his fill, he was surprised to notice that his usual creamy white pelt was now criss-crossed with ugly black stripes. The young zebra looked at the fence to see a leopard watching him beyond it. The leopard noticed him and stepped back out of sight, vanishing immediately.

The zebra realised that the leopards black spots helped her blend in with her surroundings, hiding her from sight. As soon as he realised this, the zebra knew how to escape.

He went to the others and showed them his discovery and told them his plan. Most, like him, were fed up with being slaves and decided to join him. But some said that it was too dangerous out there and that they were safer under the protection of the humans, even if they were slaves.

And so the group split, the escaping ones rubbing themselves against the fence, while the others went back to sleep in the middle of the field.

When the escapers were covered in black stripes, they trotted over to wait next to the gate as darkness fell and camouflaged them where their white pelts would have once made them stand out.

Soon, two humans came in to check on the slaves. When they had gone through, the striped zebras trotted out and back into the wild. For weeks they roamed happily and were able to dodge and hide from the hunting humans thanks to their stripes.

But after awhile, the zebras wished to have their own appearances backs. So they jumped into a lake and splashed about but the black stripes wouldn't come off. They had been permanently stained into their pelts.

Also, no matter what they did, they couldn't get back their long, slender legs, their beautiful slim bodies and shiny flowing manes and tails. They were stuck with stubby legs, barrel-like bodies, dark hair and ugly black stripes.

But the ones remaining in captivity were worse off. After their friends had gone, they realised that they wanted to too. They tried to rub themselves on the fence so as to get the black stripes too but all they got were grey smudges. Hoping that the black stripes would come, they rubbed themselves even more, but all they achieved was turning themselves grey.

They grew mournful and their usual musical neigh turned into a terrible bray. The humans noticed the transformation and named the new animals "donkeys".

Now all the zebras are born with stripes and all the donkeys have changed so much that nearly no resemblance can be made between them and their kin.

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This was the result of boredom and life thinking a few years ago. I don't exactly remember how I got onto this topic but I think it had some thing to do with a Catholic Studies lesson and parables.