Promote your story but JUST with excerpts that include similes and metaphors

Leyelle 2024-01-14 13:40:19 UTC #1

I'm baaaack did you miss me?

Here we go:

Simile: noun one is LIKE noun 2 (example: he's like a giant.)
Metaphor: noun one IS or DOES something it isn't literally doing (examples: My tears are a river. My mind screams at me)

So let's go!

I lower my head until my hair pools in my lap like a tremulous shadow.

The smell of perfume slips silently out of the after-party and down the spiral staircase, escaping through the closed door in lusty drafts like a flower garden on steroids.

my phone lights up on the bed and screams-

Concern sits in his voice like a deep stain.

I’m the ghost in the corner again, staring at the trembling figure beneath the covers.

GunmetalSkies 2024-01-15 03:29:58 UTC #2

Oh, this is a fun one! Here are a few from my novel so far:

Fia’s heart thumped. Around him, the sunlight piled gold on the floor, and Eli’s shadow continued to flit about his own, never touching but hovering like a curious hummingbird before darting away again.
A tangled mass of blackened vines that probed the ground like a multi-headed anteater blindly searching for its meal.
He looked at Eli then, his eyes fever bright, burning like a devil’s lantern in the middle of the night.
Low and beautiful, a laugh with teeth that sunk itself into Eli’s heart.
“They set me against them. Every last one of them.” Fia’s voice like fire meeting winter, full of ash and splintering ice, and still he kept talking.
Howls lit up the forest.
From the one on his left, a fireplace stared at him through a gap where a door should have been. Soot darkened its grin.
A large, red-bricked monstrosity, choked with the same vines that had overtaken the walls, its double doors swung out, the left hanging onto its hinges like a last desperate prayer offered before the sentencing.

Leyelle 2024-01-19 20:37:27 UTC #3

“No…that’s the thing-” I stammer, as the recollection tries to strangle me, “I really want to do this. I was so proud of my work - putting together the exhibit - and giving the speech in front of all those people. I even enjoyed working with him before…”

“I’ve got to hang up now, dearest,” Mrs. Moon says quickly, and I force myself to attend to what she’s saying as she prattles on - each word falling like fat raindrops on a cage, rolling their way around the thin bars with Laodicean energy and sliding reluctantly into cognition.