Book Info

Project Leader:
Bnaslund
Participants:
The WEbook community
Who Can Write:
All Participants (Closed)
Category:
Fiction
Genre:
Experimental
Language:
English

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The Metaphor or Simile Challenge

Write three sentences (max 100 words) and include one metaphor or simile within your text.

THIS PROJECT IS NOW CLOSED, THE WINNERS WILL BE ANNOUNCED ON THE BLOG SOON!

This may sound simple and easy, but we assure you, not all metaphors and similes are created equally. So take your time and craft one with some kick. The WEbook editorial staff will review all submissions, pick three winners, and award them a coupon for free entry to PageToFame. Join this project and start a new chapter to submit!

TO SUBMIT, START A NEW CHAPTER FOR THIS PROJECT. THE DEADLINE TO ENTER IS 4 P.M. Apri ... more »

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hidee

1/14/2012 6:45 PM PST

jcywrong

1/14/2012 8:53 AM PST

grant123

1/14/2012 8:42 AM PST

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reader

7/10/2010 8:15 AM PDT

My flowers are my life, its almost human, the stem is the body of my flowers and the roots are the brain. The roots are what hold my dreams, my life, etc.

As I watered my flowers, I think of my past and tears flow down my face. My flowers grow and many give fruit. I look down at them and see myself.

Why as time goes by some of them die away? I can say its just me who in life die away when so many dreams are never accomplished and just die away like my flowers and dreams.

DavidWhite

4/23/2010 6:25 AM PDT

Become the being you are-S'Greek+Sometimes time sometimes Gold= Fred Wakeman= Senior

Werdz

4/23/2010 12:11 AM PDT

I have always considered myself as just an experience.. Somewhat like the wind, I will always be there, unless you don't believe in me because my values are not a "thing" you can "see"

KaiteInseguro

4/22/2010 8:41 PM PDT

Lately I've felt like nothing at all and I'm content with death. It's like I'm glitter left on a table swept up by the wind. Everyone remembers it, but it's okay that it's gone.

shawnarae

4/22/2010 4:29 PM PDT

I walked into the room, and was met with a sight that turned my stomach. My dogs were doing the nasty, despite having been fixed. Their neutered humping reminded me of an amputee with a phantom itch!

OldCopperPenny

4/22/2010 1:46 PM PDT

I couldn’t believe that the woman could throw away such a man. He was one of those big library couches; the really expensive ones that look very serious but once sat in, make the whole body just melt into warm butter. Perhaps the couch just didn’t fit her sparse and trendy décor but it certainly blended perfectly with my bohemian chic apartment and so I pulled over and snatched him up off her front lawn.

maylou

4/22/2010 11:03 AM PDT

I always long for time alone
Filled with the luxury of nothingness
Behold nothingness is an eternity
Without the the presence of you

JakeBlues67

4/22/2010 10:11 AM PDT

My Blackberry chirped like an urban cricket from my night table. I may have been asleep thirty minutes... maybe less, but as tired as my body was, my mind was still trying to put together the events from earlier. I fumbled for the phone and waited for Kimberly's sultry voice to tell me the address and my contact.
I would bring her, knowing she is more than capable of doing the job, but I have already lost two assistants to very violent circumstances. I could not live without her as I could live without air or food.

Amaraee

4/21/2010 3:39 PM PDT

The waif-looking child watched with undivided attention as the money notes fell from the European tourist's pocket like sauced meatballs dropped in a clean plate, her hungry, mangy eyes widening with naked excitement as they rolled towards her. She scurried up from the floor like a frightened mouse and greedily wrenched the notes with so much force that the burning concrete gnawed her fingers.Smiling like a Chesire cat who had just found the cr eam,she stuffed the money in her flapping rags,lying to herself the thousandth time that even though she was a street dog scrouching for food, she was not the thief her Mamman called her but was definitely the lucky vagabond she had nicknamed herself.

Seaweed_Brain

4/21/2010 3:13 PM PDT

"Friendship is like peeing on yourself.
Everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth it brings."
Leon said.

Kwakoo

4/21/2010 6:57 AM PDT

Though I attemped to bury my thoughts, the words just would not die. Yes it has came back from the grave, and gave new meaning to life and a reason to live, those three big words, I love you.

Kwakoo

4/21/2010 6:48 AM PDT

Though I attemped to bury my thoughts, the words just would not die.

JennyC

4/21/2010 3:29 AM PDT

The chef, having attempted to resuscitate the grey roast, smothered it ironically with viscous, brown gravy. Limp over a slice of white bread, I let the meat lie there, and mourned its murder. Diners can be so cruel.
- Jennifer Crinion

henevernew

4/20/2010 11:33 PM PDT

Fiercely shrieking its arid alarm, the reigning sun awakened the sweating and fitfully slumbering world. Although Jozas had been awake for several hours, he knew enough about what the day might hold and in his dread, feigned sleep as he continued to deny his aching bladder. Trying to remember the dream message of the night, he warily alllowed himself to slowly drift across the divide and resumed his position he'd valiantly held for the past 2 nights.

Lorran

4/20/2010 7:09 PM PDT

He looked at me with the eyes of a dog--a dog about to be put down, not out of illness or to relieve his suffering, but for committing some unforgivable act.

The rain beat down on the windshield, I turned the key to roll up the window and slap the wipers back on. Through the rear-view mirror, I could still see him standing there in the pissing rain as I drove away. He would find his own way home, he always did.

Maggie_D

4/20/2010 4:13 PM PDT

His tail flying like a flag newly unfurled, the puppy bounced across the floor. Pushing his love ahead of his nose, he saw no one but his new master. A grinning bark heralded his hello when the man smothered him in the depths of his welcome.

David_Han

4/20/2010 4:08 PM PDT

On a cold, unforgiving winter day, as I was walking to a masquerade, and although it was not my first one, I felt nervous, for I'd be deeply offended if they did not like my mask. Still, there really was no reason for them not to like it for in my modest and biased opinion, it was perfect, and so walking in proudly and elgantly i was greeted by my good friend J, who inquired to me, "My friend, you do know this is a masquerade!" Which to, I replied, "But my friend, I am already wearing my mask!"

idiotloveidiot

4/20/2010 10:27 AM PDT

She tastes like chocolate. Not the sweet type associated with the type that covers strawberries, but the bitter kind that isn’t tampered by sugar, milk, or any other additives we use to make it taste tolerable. With every lick my tongue is clouded with an unrefined taste that can be compared to mud and her mere presence makes me nauseous.

Sylvan_Streams

4/20/2010 10:12 AM PDT

I am a ghost writer. Really. I died last year at the knees of my dear Eleanor on the day that was to be the happiest of my life. I was offered the choice of going to my reward or remaining here as easily as if choosing between strawberry or chocolate ice-cream. I chose chocolate.

Eleanor senses my presence sometimes, but her little brat of a granddaughter, who usurped my side of the bed with Grandma, has sensed me twice. I wanted to scare but her butterfly soul dances about dismissing me, a ghost, as if I were nothing!

KrisKupp

4/20/2010 10:05 AM PDT

Tucker restrains me by putting the barrel of his Thompson across my belly. Muscles in his jaws tense and he makes eye contact with me. He is serious, like a mother restraining a child that is approaching danger.

Kuruchi25

4/17/2010 9:47 PM PDT

The boy seemed like an angel. He was kind and caring in all his work. As a doctor he could not leave the angel like children to die of an illness. When in surgury, he worked faster then any speedracer.

Wilhelmina1

4/16/2010 2:51 PM PDT

You stood with your chest held high. The fiberglass monster was racing toward you. Rushing to who knows where, squished you with no care.

SoloLuvs2write

4/16/2010 2:02 PM PDT

http://www.webook.com/project/The-Metaphor-or-Simile-Challenge

ShanaPupik

4/16/2010 2:00 PM PDT

Reading all of these beautifully moving and deep stories, I'm starting to feel a little out of my league with my Freckles entry about a kid with marker all over his face! Then again, I'm a childrens' writer, so what did you expect?

JacksonB

4/16/2010 1:25 PM PDT

thanks that helps

penbuddy

4/15/2010 7:57 PM PDT

This may be a tongue teaser of a title; but I hope it speaks well of the body that comes below it. ;-)

http://www.webook.com/submission.aspx?p=e6a8967c93d44ac3bb6305c17328f987&st=8c81d8ec965a4df18be9865cdb5bee25

ShanaPupik

4/15/2010 6:53 PM PDT

Jackson,

The challenge calls for you to write three sentences. Somewhere within your passage, you must compare one thing to something else using as or like (a simile), or you may call something by a different name (metaphor). You may not write more than 100 words in your entry. You may want to glance over what's already been posted. Hope this helps.

JacksonB

4/15/2010 4:21 PM PDT

I really don't get the topic. Could someone explain it better please?