Metaphor, Similes, Personification, Hyperbole

LIFE:

Metaphor: Life is Dori, you just keep swimming.

Simile: Life is like a computer, it eventually shuts down.

DEATH:

Metaphor: Death is my mum’s plants, they eventually die.

Simile: Death is like the amazon rainforest, it will eventually be deforested.

HOME:

Metaphor: Home is a cardboard box, because it is.

Simile: Home is like a society, its the people that make a house a home.

IMAGES:

Simile: The clouds are like an onion ring, they are circular.

Metaphor: The jellyfish is the sprinkles on a cake, bright and everywhere.

TABLE:

Personification: Strong, shreiked, smiled, creeked

HEADPHONE:

Personification: Whispered, Screamed, Bungy jumped,

CHAIR:

Personification: Withstand, Supportived, Rested

COMPUTER:

Personification: Annoying, runs, walks.

BOOK:

Personification: Clapped, Opened up.

TREE:

Personification: The tree, old and tired, groaned painfully with each gust of wind. The stiff tree did yoga as it stretched its limbs.

WATER:

Personification: The water copied my white outfit.

BENCH:

Personification: The bench was a loner.

HOUSE:

Personification: The house yeeted to non existance

5 SENSES:

Hyperbole: Touch Forceful Delicate, Smell Exquisite Horrific, Hearing Intolerable Brittle, Taste Organismly Indescribable, Seeing Blinding Godly,

DESCRIBE YOUR DAY:

Hyperbole: I searched everywhere for my once of a lifetime hat. Over the mountain over the seas. Not even the render distance of my telescope could show how far I searched. I will cry 5 billion gallons of tears if it is lost.

IMAGES:

Hyperbole: The atmosphere was so colourful the shades of black and white was not existent.

Hyperbole: The rocks were so hard not even thor’s hammer could break them.

Hyperbole: The image was so fake it made Kim Kardashian’s body look real.

IMAGES:

Preposition: On the blue chair sat the innocent girl as a book is placed on her tender lap filling knowledge into the child. Surrounding the girl are piles of books towering above as she creates her own imaginative surrounding of fantasy. Shining above like the girls future the light beams brightly.

“THE BOY WAS SAD”

Show don’t tell: Lost. Beaten. Defeated. Tormented the boy’s agony is released through the tears escaping his bloodshot eyes. Screams fullfil the empty room as he sits alone.

WHEN THEY EMBRACED SHE COULD TELL HE HAD BEEN SMOKING AND WAS SCARED“.

Show don’t tell: Cigarette buds mixed with the odour released from his armpits reminded me of my tragic past lovers. Please not again. Embraced by the warmth of his chest I was enclosed in smoke.

“THE TEMPERATURE FELL AND THE ICE REFLECTED THE SUN”.

Show don’t tell: Numb. Inhaling the fresh cool air

THE WANDERER:

Some say he possesses mystical powers. Some say he is a source of pure evil. Others say he spreads joy to the places he visits. Very few people have ever seen what’s beneath the hood. Very few people know who he truly is.

The wanderer sat alone on the mountainside, leaning against his staff for support. Storm clouds were gathering, and it was his intention to reach the next village before the first snowflakes fell…

It was 6’oclock in the evening, the sun had been long gone as darkness began to fill the mountainside. Empty. Barren. All that was living was the Wanderer perched upon a rock contemplating if he would ever reach the end. But what was the end?

Upon the horizon, grey clouds began to surge towards the mountain like an army headed to battle. It was time for him to leave.

EDITING CHECKLIST:

Used 5 senses, Used appropriate detail, Used commas to mark clause, Used capitals letters, Checked your apostrophes, Checked there/their/they’re, Used multiple sentences types, Used paragraphs appropriately, Kept your writing consistent.

And then there were none creative writing

I couldn’t believe it. She’s dead.

Cyril’s body lay there impaled as guilt is swallowed through the saliva in my pharynx.

It’s all my fault. What is wrong with me? When has love ever been enough for murder?

The bloodshot eyes of Cyril stare at me like medusa turning me into stone.

“Cyril”, the breath is drawn as I hear a whisper in my ear.

You murdered me!

Thrash!

Water tackles the boat as the scrum of people are rocked by the impact. Squashed to the rough wooden texture of the boat by Lombard I couldn’t help but think of her.

Blue. Only blue. Apart from the monotonous clouds blue was the only colour seen.

I couldn’t bare staring at it any longer. The crashing waves were too similiar to those which carried Cyril’s floating body to shore.

I close my eyes. Blackness. I’d rather black than blue.

“Look! It’s soldier island!” exclaimed Wargrave from the left side of the boat.

My eye lids open in hope Wargrave is right and this blue has ended. Through the mist