English, 111 (Metaphors)

Figurative Language: Metaphor

A. 1. That typewriter is a dinosaur. ____Typewriter_____= _Something my grandfather would find kinship with, including endearing but long winded 'back in my day' stories with morals about how he defeated the entire Red Army with nothing but an 88-key on his back and I should never disrespect older technology. It saves lives, and fends off Communism._

2. My brother is a total couch potato __Speaker's Brother___= __Raggamuffin who has failed at everything in life to date, excluding personal conquest of the DVR and consumption of flavourful starch products. He's also probably a drunken pothead, as loser brothers often are.__

3. The meal was a rock in my stomach __Food baby__= _Not as good as I thought it would be, but I ate it anyway. Might have food poisoning, but at least I'm not hungry. Worth it? We'll see come morning._

B. 4. Trixie sleeps all day long. Trixie is not a lumberjack, for she is dead to the world once the sun has risen until it sets. I bet she doesn't even cut down trees, nor wear high heels whilst not doing said chopping. Maybe she is a vampire? Here's to hoping she doesn't sparkle.

5. The cadets marched in the midday heat.The downtrodden cadets were but ghosts as they solemnly marched through the thick air with the sun beating down on their backs from above. They knew not the purpose of their journey, but acknowledged the red tinged finale which awaited them at the end of their path.

Johnson turned to the fellow on his right, a boy from Indiana. The boy glanced back, the scruff of two week's march barely growing on his cheek, with a hollow fear in his eyes. With a nod, Johnson turned back to the front, the forlorn dread of their dreary march making his heart heavy and his feet lead.

6. Her salty tears fell as she read the letter. Her salty tears were black streams of mascara cascading down her cheeks as she read the letter. Her previous exhuberance at expectation of her lover's safety now passing in the wind as her eyes absorbed his depressed nuance and hidden angst as he elaborated his consignment to death. Trixie brushed her fingers across her eyes as the liquid made her world swirl, as her mind already did with thoughts of her poor, sweet Johnson.

7. The hungry dog devoured his food. The dog was lupine in spirit as he devoured his food, pausing only to lick his chops clean of hot blood before tearing in for more. A woman's scream filled the air, joining the savage sounds of flying spittle and tearing flesh, transforming to a garggle then progressively to silence has the cunning animal sought out her throat to cut off her current avenue of escape by ending her miserable life.

8. The stars lit up the midnight sky. The stars were his beacons of hope in the midnight sky, guiding him through the torrid battlefield as they were crossed by plumes of smoke from projectiles of destruction. Tonight was a good night to die, but after departing his missive to his love, Johnson felt a swell of determination to survive this chapter to begin anew with his Angel. Brow drenched in sweat and dirt, he surged forward with his fellow cadets, a new fire lit in their souls on this clear night of battle.

A solidarity of men, fighting against the odds, their unified roar of contempt, honour, and thirst for victory surging amongst them, aiding their will to bolster the enemy back. Johnson was a warrior possessed with rage, his mind foggy with a lust to feed the earth below him with the blood of any who stood between him and his return home in Trixie's arms. The beacons above manage to break through his consciousness long enough for him to raise his eyes to them, hypnotized by their beauty with a single tear in his eye as molten lead filled the hole in his heart.