It’s December. And Wednesday. I can’t say I’m sorry to see the tail end of 2020 but it seems that I’m losing time. Contstantly. Anyway, it’s Wednesday and that means words, metaphorically speaking, which happens to be the THEME for #1lineWed today: **METAPHORS**. Who remembers their English comp classes on metaphores and similes and such stuff like that there? 🙋🏼♀️ Can you spot the metaphor in this snippet? The scene is fairly self-explanatory so I’ll leave it at that.
Jack caught the sound of tires crunching gravel first, then the motor sounds. He’d just turned the horses out into the corral. He swung over the fence and headed around the barn. Justice was already waiting as the dark green pickup with the bright green emblem of the Texas Parks and Wildlife Department on the doors. He heard the mewling as Conor Paxton stepped out of the truck on the driver’s side.
“Ohhhh,” Justice sighed. “Look at you, baby.” She stepped forward and took the towel-wrapped bundle from Conor. “Yes, yes, baby. I know. You’re hungry. I’ve got some nummies for you.” Ignoring the men, she cuddled the baby bobcat and walked into the barn.
Conor dipped his chin at Jack. “Sheriff.”
“State Game Warden.”
They both laughed at their formality then shook hands.
“How ya doin’, Jack? And no offense but why in the Sam Hill would you quit the Rangers to become the Sheriff of Bandera County?”
“There are days I ask myself that same question.” Justice’s voice drifted out from the barn. She was singing a lullaby. To the animals. Who knew the woman had a voice like an angel? “And then there are days like today and I know.”
“Ah,” Conor exhaled as the light bulb came on. “Yeah. She’s a keeper.”
Jack whipped his head around to stare at Conor. The game warden held up both hands to hold him off.
“Easy there, Sheriff. I’m married to the most wonderful woman in the world. But, I gotta admit, Justice is gorgeous and what she does with the animals? A lot of times, it’s nothing short of a miracle. She has the touch. We’ve needed a rehabilitator in this area for years and she has been a godsend. Again, literally. I’ve brought in animals the vets advised be put down. Justice said she’d fix them. And she has. Every single time. She’s got a good heart.”
“Pretty woman, yeah, but that heart of hers. That’s the thing.”
“Oh, ho. You are smitten. But a word of warning, Jack. Don’t play with her. There are a lotta folks in these parts who love her for that heart. They—and that includes me—won’t be happy if that heart gets broken.”
Jack’s wolf growled and paced just beneath his skin. The idea of someone else claiming their mate—and Jack had to admit that yup, he was good and moonstruck—unsettled his animal half almost as much as the human part. He soothed the beast, promised him time with the woman they would claim, and nodded to the younger man. “I don’t think that’ll be a worry, son.”
“I have the feeling she’s in good hands, Jack, and I’m happy for you both. You’re a wily old wolf and a loner to boot. ’Bout time you settled down. And Justice? The idea of her living out here on her own—not that she can’t take care of herself, but…well, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” Jack knew exactly what he meant.
You know, I’m curious now. Is it a metaphor if it’s the truth? Okay, writers, show us what you got, metaphorically speaking. And readers, do you have a favorite metaphor you use in real life? Like, do you have a black sheep in your family? Or is your life a circus?