Metaphor Stories Novels & Stories

It was just in the clearing of the woods, but it was still in the woods. As for the beasts, she thought those were just myths. Stories to scare kids at night. Stories that eventually faded as they grew older. Stories about the beasts who kill people, but they got buried as years went by. They realized beast is a metaphor for people who can't control their emotions and rage. People who lash out at other people when things don't go their way. But now, she knows that those beasts were not just from the legends. She is looking at one right now.

This was no feel-good fluff piece meant to reinforce some trite, overexploited message like 'love was real' or 'love always triumphs. Gray and I weren't actors. Our clothes weren't from a wardrobe department. Our words weren't printed on a script. Our home wasn't a set full of curated props. Our happy ending wasn't guaranteed. In our living room, I spoke ad libitum, straight from my heart. With her beside me on the couch, I told her how things had changed for me. Working within the confines and limitations of language, I turned to metaphor, to simile. As evinced by the mere existence of poetry itself—to concretize ambiguous ideas such as 'love' or 'happiness' using plain language always, alw

"What do you mean?" "The Winter Banana was small and didn't belong. But we gave it a home next to the strong tree. Now they're friends, and the garden has two kinds of apples. That's a better story than just one tree." She snuggled down. "People like stories about friends helping small things grow." I kissed her forehead, the idea sparking. An analogy. A simple, powerful analogy. I went to Luther in the study. "We're telling the wrong story," I said.

Infinite possibilities to weave. I am Seraphina. I am the bridge. I am the story weaver. And I am still becoming. The days passed. I continued to weave new stories, each one different, each one unique. I wove tales of courage and hope, of loss and healing, of love and transformation. But I also began to weave stories that were simpler. Stories about the beauty of a single flower. Stories about the joy of a pup's first howl. Stories about the warmth of a shared meal.

Seeing that she would not give up from siding the night roamer, he decides to tell her a story to compliment her belief. “You know, according to our popular children stories, some believe he is a handsome prince from a far away kingdom made of gold, and enchantment and magic. While others believes he is a demon that haunts evildoers and people of little conscience until they give up their evil ways, or pay for their sins with blood” He narrates, captivating her attention. “Tell me more please?” She pleads with irresistible eyes. “You are in luck, as I am a lover of myth!” he gestures towards a dry piece of log just opposite them.

'Why is that even funny?' 'Because, humans wouldn't know the truth if it hit them in the face like a tsunami,' he said. 'Truth is nothing but fiction, told by the greatest storytellers this world has ever known. Of course, they were also the best liars, but that's the real secret to great story-telling, isn't it? Possessing the ability to make people believe you. Stories become truths so powerful that people forget that the tale itself was so fantastical, it couldn't possibly have been real. Serpents and apples. Building a massive boat full to the brim with every species of animal known to man. Five thousand people turning up to your dinner party when you only have five loaves of bread and t

No Way! But you know what they say about the devil being the most deceptive creature that ever liveth? The devil knows how to make a person nurture a thought and then bloom it. The devil already knew that Ace’s colleagues had succeeded in planting a thought in his mind so the best thing that could be done by the devil was to magnify that thought.

Why does she feel like a stranger when she stares at the busy street of Athens, she wants to be like one of them and without learning their language, she will never be one of them. Lucky her, Hussain did try to teach her but damn, the language was not as easy as she thought it will be. She could only get the basic things like please and thank you. "What are you thinking about my love?" Hussain asked kissing the crock of her neck. That was her weak point and he knew it but he decided to be using it against her.

If Max has started hating Olivia, how can they build a relation "Olivia is a good girl. You heard her mother, she wasn't in a good mood today." His mother spok Max picked up his glass that had some red content in it and took a few sips. "What's my business with her mood? I'm only asking Emily not to get infected, or do you want her to grow up as an idiot with mood fluctuation in an event, as well?" He a Her sister chuckled and tugged his arm, "brother, that was rude." She