Towards the Finish Line

by R J Dent

I am in the driver’s seat of my brand new Metaphor 2015.

          It is a gleaming, streamlined creation, fresh from the manufacturer. It has been fitted with a variety of meanings. The powerful engine is turning over steadily, promising undreamed of power.

          The official waves the chequered flag.

          I put the Metaphor into Narrative Drive and press my foot down, accelerating forward fast.

          Utilising some of the Metaphor’s state-of-the-art functions, I quickly pass a slow-moving Simile, cutting it up like a wire through cheese, then find myself – for a few seconds only – neck and neck with a Cliché which had – against all the odds – been last year’s winner. Then I pull ahead.

          Powering around the circuit, I ease up a gear, then grip the Metaphor’s wheel. In front of me is a clanking, clunking Alliteration, which I roar past in no time at all. A brand-new Agon puts up a show of resistance for a few seconds, and then it’s gone – a quickly-receding dot in my mirror.

          Surging forward, I swerve the Metaphor around an irrelevant Aside; tear past the flashily painted bodywork of a Synecdoche, and then race forward, suddenly aware that I am accidentally scraping the side of a Symbolic, before passing and overtaking it. Further acceleration takes me past an old, sepia-tinted Analepsis and a futuristic-looking Prolepsis.

          In front of me, the chassis of a Metonymy spins and skids off the track, its wheels on fire.

          The finish line is now visible in the distance.

          I zoom past the four remaining competitors who are still ahead of me – a Mimesis which is – rather cheekily – the same colour and shape as my Metaphor; a roaring, belching, smoking Onomatopoeia; an overly-ornate Hyperbole; and an Anaphora Anaphora, which is attempting to make a comeback this year – and which, if I hadn’t moved forward quite so quickly, might have succeeded.