A Task of Metaphors

This was an experimental story I did for a writing seminar in which I sought to describe a man coming home from work and taking a shower, but doing it all in a metaphor. Please pardon grammar errors.

First a small rumble, then several drips of rain from shadowed clouds hiding a dimmed sun. The rainfall is at first cold, but as the gears of time turn, it steadily grows warmer. Here it gives comfort to those it loves, caressing them tenderly. And for those who are unwary of her true power, she punishes their ignorance by scalding them, leaving them with a harsh memory of abused love. Some may run, others may seek peace and beg of her to relinquish her boiling streams on their tired backs. They did not know. How could they? When the battle is won, but the war still remains to taunt those who did not fight as bravely as their compatriots, such men grow weary. Peace is the only thing they seek, but before them a long and treacherous journey awaits. Most of it is composed of learning of the gift of patience, other times restraint, and still others courage. A soldier does not seek out war if he has grown tired of the constant battles. His general would not here of it, so he sent him home, hoping that he might learn a lesson in his brashness. He must venture to a place he has longed to touch for an eternity, but the war forbade it and took from him luxury. But, all was not yet lost, for before him was, yes, a map. A guide to lead him into peace.

The gate is opened and he enters through the archway to be greeted by clouds of a pale and thin look. A misty hand in his leads him to his final refuge, one where he shall be released. To resist would be futile, but why refuse such a gift so freely given? A gift with no cost, he is told and readily believes. A grove opens up, time moves his gears and receives the weary traveler and she gracefully embraces him. The rain is peaceful and those scalded plead against the hands of time to stave off her harsh blows. So, with some strength applied, time moves and the weary, forgotten soldiers enter into luxury. Yet, time and his partner are a relentless couple, for they shall not so easily remove their soothing and powerful grasp over the soldier. The soldier, by their hands, is made calm and his mind filled with distractions. Distractions that drift lazily around his psyche as he drifts off in the rain and is led by the hand by the mistress while time holds his leash. Time, now successful, steps away forgotten to let the gears turn themselves and envelop the soldier as she makes love to him. Hazy is the man’s mind, blissful is his heart, his muscles weakened, but his is still found soul restless. Within him burns some lingering outcry, one that harkens back to days and events passed. But, he quickly brushes it away and fills the holes of knowledge and nagging with euphoria she grants him. The rain washes the man away and sends him into a false reality.

But, what is this? A break, a shatter point in this new world. Can he enter? Shall he enter? Should he enter? Questions surround the crack, begging to be studied. The mind accepts, but he body is unwilling, so it remains in the grove. A darkness arises and the rain is left behind. What is now is the man with his questions. Ghastly things that bind him, some he is able to cut, others he is strangled by. What must he do to free himself? A mind has its tools, yes, but what and where to find them? Do they remain with the body or are they as bound as he? A torrent stirs and sweeps him away. He is drowning, but his bonds do not let him swim. He sinks, but his bonds only serve to drag him down farther. Hope is being devoured by a watery beast before him, terrifying to behold but impossible to look away from. There is no weapon, no tool to be his means of escape.

Wait, something, some great thing, a rising thing is making a call. Is…is it that which was heard before? Maybe, but the man must move to find it. He cannot, but he must. He will not, but it is what is meant to be revealed to him. He will stay and slip away, but if he slips he will surely fall. Do not fall, hold onto that call, be brave and have heart. Ah, yes, the memory is returning. He can see it now. There, before him a light. A footstep, then another. Now time is losing his grip and his partner has failed him. She once again grows cold and removes her body from his. The gears cease to turn and the man, seeing his chance, grabs his cloak, dresses himself and takes off. Now, he stands on the edge wondering, “Man, where did the time go?”