Metaphors to an Extreme

By Katerina Bonderud, TIWP Student

The jar of beans spilled onto the table, scattered all around, just like my thoughts. I thought the jar had cracked, but the box of milk beside it broke the jar’s fall.

The milk tipped then spilled, tangling with the beans. And soon after, it dripped off the counter and creeped into the closet. My heart jumped, and in a split second I was at the bulging wood door. The lock was near to breaking. Too many skeletons had been piling up for years, but they still haven’t been touched.

The door broke, and I stepped aside to watch every single bone fall out.

I spilled the beans, cried over the spilt milk, and opened the closet of skeletons.

I looked to the other side of the room and attempted to rub the stress away from my temples. I placed down my hand, and my clumsy fingers knocked over the last thing. The salt fell off the counter and shattered onto the floor. The sound broke the mirror, which had me stumbling backward under a ladder.

My cat ran into the house, except it wasn’t mine… it was the neighbors. It jumped onto the counter and sniffed the milk. Once it decided it wasn’t poisonous and was indeed milk, it licked it up and splashed onto its black fur.

I look over to my right and knew what must be done. Grasping the handle, I slide my hand onto the rubber grip and let go of the button.

The yellow umbrella shoots up to the ceiling, like the sun on a warm summer day.



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