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 Bad Suspense Novel Metaphors
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| Author | Topic: Bad Suspense Novel Metaphors |
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Lee Baucum Member From: McAllen, Texas (Extreme South) - The Final Frontier |
posted 07 November 2003 06:17 AM
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...A single drop of sweat slowly inched down Chad's brow -- a tiny, glistening Times Square New Year's Eve Ball of desperation. ...Her blazing eyes danced like Astaire and Rogers, but since they were crossed, it was an ocular tango, and my eyes had to foxtrot just to maintain eye contact. ...She had a voice so husky it could have pulled a dogsled, and the gun she was holding gave me a bad case of barrel envy. ...The neon sign reflected off his gun, like the moonlight reflects off my brother-in-law's bald head after a night of beer drinking and cow-tipping. ...The information imbedded on the stolen computer chip was like an explosive so explosive it could explode, creating a massive explosion. ...The killer was a misplaced comma in the jaunty, happy sentence that made up the party crowd. ...His face looked like an ice sculpture. Not one of those pretty ones in the middle of a cruise ship buffet, but the kind they do in a contest with a chainsaw -- and it had been out in the heat too long. ...Like any family, this house had its secrets, secrets it grimly refused to reveal, and would continue to refuse to reveal even if it could speak, which unlike a family, or at least most members of most ...From his vantage point in the balcony, the would-be assassin looked down on the debating candidates like a webhead looking down on an AOL user. ...The sudden darkness made the Countess tense, like Bobby Jerome that time with the bicycle in 7th grade, remember? ------------------ |
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Gary C. Dygert Member From: Frankfort, NY, USA |
posted 24 November 2003 06:12 PM
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His eyes slid down the front of her dress. |
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Donna Dodd Moderator From: Kennesaw, Georgia, USA |
posted 25 November 2003 02:15 AM
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. . . and just as balls in a pinball machine, his eyes rolled, bumped - and teased him until they dropped like two big golf balls hit by . . . ummmm - ok, how about Tiger Woods - onto her dainty, shoeless feet, causing 5000 of the 6000 little-tiny bones in her feet to crack like fireworks on the 4th of July . . . (Well, not quite like 4th of July in Time Square - but at least 4th of July in Carnesville, Georgia) [This message was edited by Donna Dodd on 25 November 2003 at 02:16 AM.] [This message was edited by Donna Dodd on 25 November 2003 at 02:18 AM.] |
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Joey Ace Sysop From: Southern Ontario, Canada |
posted 26 November 2003 12:09 PM
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Thunder, sounding like the reverb tank of a kicked Twin Reverb, echoed in the night... Her lifeless body was heavier than he expected, much like a D-12 still in the case. A loud bang, reminicent of a .011 popping with the amp on full volume, pierced the night air, then A SHRILL SCREAM!!! Suddenly fear of a one million lawsuit caused the writer to edit his analogies about the scream. [This message was edited by Joey Ace on 26 November 2003 at 12:12 PM.] |
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Lee Baucum Member From: McAllen, Texas (Extreme South) - The Final Frontier |
posted 26 November 2003 03:30 PM
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...Unable to contain his rage, he burst like a pimple of emotion, the pus of his fury streaking the mirror of calm in the bathroom of his life. ------------------ |
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Donna Dodd Moderator From: Kennesaw, Georgia, USA |
posted 26 November 2003 05:34 PM
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 - you guys are a RIOT!!!! More . . . more . . . |
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Joey Ace Sysop From: Southern Ontario, Canada |
posted 26 November 2003 06:06 PM
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The night air was cold, like a Stainless Steel Bar that was left in the trunk overnight in winter. He was shivering more than John Hughey's bar on a slow ballad. He put her down and built a fire. The flames were intense and reminded him of an unmoderated Chat Room. He turned, and like Bobbe's Forum, she had disappeared with a trace, |
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Donna Dodd Moderator From: Kennesaw, Georgia, USA |
posted 26 November 2003 06:17 PM
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She insisted on changing into something more comfortable. Seconds seemed like minutes. Well, they WERE minutes actually – about 6 of them. But, really, it seemed more like 7. As she neared the staircase, I could feel my heart pounding like a New York butcher preparing cubed steak for the “Seniors Against Chicken” convention. . . . then, THERE she stood, draped in a gown as translucent as a cheap generic Kleenex clinging to her beautiful body. Our eyes lock – and like that stubborn old door key, we couldn’t break the seal. Slowly, we moved into each other’s arms and I ran my sweaty palms through her long black tresses. Then, exactly like the old “Give the Man Hair” magnetic board I loved as a child – her hair slid away. Panicking like the time the dog ate my homework, I got down on my knees looking for the magnet to put her hair back on. Our eyes unlocked as a rusty key saturated lubricant, and I saw something around her ankles similar to that mohair sweater I got from my grandmother last Christmas. “YUK”, I said like the time I tried Asparagus for the first time! Then, quicker than lightning in a Texas storm – well . . . just as I do in a pizza restaurant, I grabbed what was left of my dignity, and walked out into the darkness – darkness like James Weldon Johnson writes about in The Creation: it was darker than a hundred midnights down in a Cypress swamp. Where was that light switch? Where was that magnet? Just to give John F. Kennedy something inspirational to reply to, I asked “Why”. To which he replied “Why NOT?” And the rest is History – the kind that Herman’s Hermits used to sing about. |
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Lee Baucum Member From: McAllen, Texas (Extreme South) - The Final Frontier |
posted 26 November 2003 08:42 PM
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...Her parting words lingered heavily inside me, like last night's Taco Bell. ...The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But, unlike Phil, this plan just might work. ...She was as easy as the "TV Guide" crossword. (Actually, I believe this is an example of a simile, not a metaphor!) ...She grew on him like she was a colony of e-coli bacteria and he was room-temperature Canadian bacon. ------------------ |
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Joey Ace Sysop From: Southern Ontario, Canada |
posted 17 December 2004 11:17 AM
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Inspired by Don's recent Metaphor post, this piece of Forum history rises to the top, like a bubble in a bathtub. |
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Ray Minich Member From: Limestone, New York, USA |
posted 17 December 2004 12:29 PM
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It was a dark and stormy night. One of those nights, where, when, suddenly the shot rang out, it sounded like 300 watt PA amplifier module crowbaring it's output transistors into a pair of 15 inch Altec woofers. [This message was edited by Ray Minich on 17 December 2004 at 01:11 PM.] |
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Bob Hickish Member From: Port Ludlow, Washington, USA |
posted 17 December 2004 01:17 PM
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It was dark rainy night when patrol car pulled up behind Bubba's truck he approached the side window with his firearm drawn - and with a loud voice he Hollors "you got any ID " Bubba turns in tarror and says "BOUT What" |
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Tony Davis Member From: Brisbane, QLD, Australia |
posted 17 December 2004 05:46 PM
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It was a dark and stormy night as the Knight Sir Lancelot trudged his weary way through the aincient forest mounted on his trusty steed Dobbin,occassionally bumping into mighty oak trees that werent there a few seconds ago. Suddenly...with the peculiar sound that metal objects make as they fall from a great hight,they were surrounded and covered in these round metal objects with spikey bits sticking out of them....unfortunately one of these sort of spikey things hit Dobbin on the Noggin who promptly,simultainiosly at the same time fell down dead....a permanent situation. Öh My Goodness!!!!"said Sir Lancelot"Gadzooks!!!!That must be Midnight Special that just flew overhead and lost part of its load of car parts.....as I do believe it is raining Datsun Cogs !!! Sir Lancelot slowly trudged on through the forest...alone,all by himself and with no-one else there....trudge..trudge..ouch!!.."Damn trees!!!!" Evetually he came to a woodcutters cottage....where he knocked on the door and gave the familiar password..."How much wood would a woodcutter cut if a woodcutter could cut wood?" Sir Lancelot was permitted into the woodcutters cottage and on exlaining his predicament was given the sad,remorsefull,forelorn,distressed reply......"Sire....I do not have a trusty steed that thou shouldst borrow...all I have is my faithful wife....my seventeen pairs of twins....and this rather large Rhodesian Ridgeback hound.....thou must chooseth whichever thou see fittest to thy needs." "Seventeen pair of twins cries Sir Lancelot...forsooth!! Dost thou get twins every time?" Öh no sire...sometimes we get nothing at all!!" "May I be so bold as to suggest that thou taketh the dog...for verily I sayeth unto thou it is large enough to ride." Sir Lancealot looked at the dog,then looked out of the door where he could see that it really was 'raining cats and dogs".......he knew this beause he had stepped in a poodle on his way in. Öh come on now"!!! cried Sir Lancelot"... "You wouldnt send a Knight out on a dog like this would you???? [This message was edited by Tony Davis on 17 December 2004 at 07:18 PM.] |
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David Cobb Member From: Chanute, Kansas, USA |
posted 17 December 2004 06:05 PM
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Her eyes met his and his legs quivered, like a man carrying two Session 500's down a flight of stairs, backwards. Her sultry good looks drew him in, deeper..deeper..like an overstuffed couch after Thanksgiving dinner. This time he was prepared for the alien probe, having just finished a seventh bean burrito, a case of Bud and four packs of Pop Rocks. He fell off the wagon like a frozen turkey from a Goodwill helicopter. They embraced each other as tightly as two-flavor entwined string cheese, he a bland cheddar, and she a fine white Mozzarella. On reflection, Angela perceived that her relationship with Tom had always been rocky, like the way a squashed toilet roll goes bumpity bumpity in it's holder. |
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Joey Ace Sysop From: Southern Ontario, Canada |
posted 18 August 2005 07:15 AM
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A sudden bump rekindled thoughts from years gone by... |
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