Copyright – Renee Heath
Zebra knows a little something about shame. This morning, she was home alone and so she had a bit of an iPod rave in the kitchen. (Because there is no better way of waking up and getting the blood pumping etc.) And then she turned around the see the landlord and a builder peering at her through the kitchen door. #ForShame
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Kirsty’s favourite kind of party was a fancy-dress party. She loved visiting costume shops and viewing the myriad of colours and possibilities. The ballerina outfit was the best she’d ever found, and she’d waited for the perfect occasion to wear it.
It had been such a success, her friends sighed with envy and when she caught his eye from across the room, it was like all those songs she heard on the radio. Their glances lingered like cigarette smoke, blurred by vodka shots. There’d been suggestion, then action.
Walking home in the morning was far less romantic.
To Be A Magician 
Never the same in the morning. Well done MissK
The morning sun never produces the most flattering light.
Thank you.
Yeah, those songs on the radio rarely talk about the next morning, do they? As much as I liked your FF story, I got a good laugh out of your opening story, which could have been “the” story, too. I’m still laughing.
janet
I was still in my Pj’s as well. Builder is coming around again tomorrow, I’m determined to at least have a bra on this time.
Haha!!
A well-developed story with a punchy last line. Nicely done.
Thanks!
Dear MKZ,
A wonderful evocation of the morning after and the magic spell broken. Still and all, this is what memories are made of. A well told tale.
Aloha,
Doug
I agree.
I don’t believe Kirsty has any regrets.
Very cleverly-built story with a great last line!
Thanks!
Oh the walk of shame. You know, men go through this too, I am sure of that!
Haha, I suppose so. I guess it really depends on the outfit!
Hi Zebra,
The morning can sure put a different light on things, and take away the blurring effects of vodka, smoke and late-night adventure. Now, was this from personal experience? I know a leopard can’t change it’s spots, but a zebra? Ron
Haha, not this particular experience. I may see dawn on a few occasions, but I usually get home before 6am. 😉
The after is usually a let down, never as good as the build up.
It’s usually the jaw-clenching, bury-face-in-the-pillow shame that gets me.
That was quite a morning you had, and an encore performance tomorrow! You wrapped up the walk of shame very well in 100 words.
I just wish my life was this exciting.
Great flash – this description was strong;
Their glances had lingered, like cigarette smoke, blurred by vodka shots.
I like costume shops too – in fact sometimes in ‘normal’ clothes stores I pick up a garment and think – ‘this would be great as fancy dress for…’ and then I put it back on the rail! (If High Street looks fancy dress on the hanger – it’s not going to be a winner on me!)
I can make a great Bellatrix Lestrange costume out of ordinary clothes in my wardrobe.
Dear Miss KZebra,
Ah those mornings after. Nicely constructed story. A suggestion: If you used more action verbs and less “had”…ie “Their glances lingered…” and it gives you one more word to use elsewhere in your count. I think there were a couple of other places I saw where you could cut a “had” but I won’t bog you down with them.
shalom,
Rochelle
Thanks for the tip, done some editing. Haven’t replaced lost words, but I think the story flows better without the unnecessary “hads”.
You’re most welcome. 😉 Makes a good story stronger.
Kind of what I learned as a teenager. Be careful when you go out for kicks — kicks have KICKBACKS. I like it, Zebe.
Especially if they’re the kind that wriggle around a lot in their sleep. But if they do that, you can just kick them out and tell them to sleep on the couch.
Ah, the foolishness of youth! Still, it’s better than the foolishness of old age!
Great story, enjoyed it very much.
But if there was no foolishness, we’d have no stories to tell!
haha oh god, i was that girl ^^ dress and all… you did a great job capturing reality. 🙂
Haha! It’s the limping that gives me away, usually. My poor feet get so abused on a night out…
That’s a great look at the difference between the fairy tale evening and the more blunt reality of the next day. If only the fantasy never ended. 🙂
I reserve poptarts for such mornings. They take the sting out.
“Their glances lingered like cigarette smoke, blurred by vodka shots.” That, I like! Too bad about the next morning, but they’ll always have vodka shots.
Thanks!
They’ll have the vodka shots… until minimum alcohol pricing laws come in…
Ah yes, the long walk home… As for your private dance moment – didn’t you have fun, though?! 🙂
It was totally worth it.
🙂
Ahh a friend of mine had to walk home from a toga party the morning after… dressed only in a sheet…. And it was the middle of the winter.. great take.. and never be ashamed of dancing Zebra.
Freshers week in a month and half… last year I saw lots of togas and cavemen, plus a toblerone doing a bar crawl…
So well-constructed with the sting in the end. Very well done.
Thanks. 🙂
After enlightenment, the laundry…walking home after ecstasy would be about right too.
Scott
Mine: http://kindredspirit23.wordpress.com/2013/08/08/friday-fictioneers-ff-8102013-just-like-marilyn-rated-pg13/
I’m pretty sure that dress isn’t machine washable, anyhow.
Ah, the romance of vodka shots. I wonder if a walk of shame is made more awkward by wearing a ballerina outfit?
If I was her, I’d just call a taxi. What’s the price of dignity?
Boom boom, that last line kick in the teeth. That’s the way it goes, sadly.
(Thought your ipod shame intro was fun.)
That’ll be a story to tell the grandkids.
Lol..it wasn’t even clicking for me until that last line and then a 100 watt bulb lit up.
I was actually under the impression that the girl in the picture was a marathon runner raising money for charity. I thought loads of people would write about that.
Isn’t that funny, how we each get our own impression.
Oh, wow, that last sentence changed it all! Nicely done.
Thanks you for your visit. I like how this ended. Because not every ending is the Prince marrying the bakers daughter (so-to-speak).
*sigh* If only it EVER ended that way in real life.
Carrying her shoes in her hand? Thank you for the memories.
I loved your opening, that brought back memories too of some early morning stretching, a long time ago, when I realised I had an audience I hadn’t invited or expected. The thought makes me cringe even now.
Well done MissK
Dee