Reposted from May 13, 2013:
A cicada shell makes a great metaphor for a car–
My daughter sent me a creative writing assignment to print (her computer and the printer don’t like each other). This little story was so good, that I thought I would share it with you.
First comes the hesitant entering of the giant’s rusty square mouth. You can see the giant’s drool spurting upward as the bug that contains you shyly creeps into the awaiting jaws. The bug is suddenly jerked forward, and the metal lips jam shut behind you. The bug stops in the semi-darkness. The bug’s glass eyes are cold to the touch.
Something before you starts moving. Spittle washes over the metal exterior of your bug, and you scream. Then, a tongue with long, thin, rubbery tentacles slaps the eyes and body of your bug. Everything stops. The bug, still alive, crawls forward, carefully, inch by inch. An opening appears ahead, flooding the darkness with light. The bug quickens its pace, and is instantly blasted with warm air. The bug leaps for the opening, jolting you inside it. It shakes off the spit and scurries away, frightened as much as you. Another adventure, another day ended.
Wasn’t that fantastic writing? If you like it, please leave a comment. Thanks!