That Is How You Are To Me; Or, An Extended Metaphor

• Chidiuso Ajaero, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2016

I was trying to describe you to someone a few days ago. You do not seem like any other phenomenon I have ever observed before.

I could not say, ‘’Well, it is just like hell, except that it is not as physically painful, and it is more harrowing than hell, and it can end, even though its possessors often think it cannot, and of course it is not as complete as hell is…”

I could not say that because you do not seem like hell at all.

I finally described you as a novel I read when I was a child in Middle School. I suppose I read it in 2014 or 2015, somewhere around that time. I think I was fourteen, or fifteen or thirteen.

The novel depicted an orphan sent to live with his new guardians, who happened to be on the other fence of a family feud. As reserved as a statue and as mysterious as a shadow, his emotional outbursts manifested like an overfull balloon ready to explode. A plethora of characters, all apt to being consumed by cold fire, fought with their demons as the plot progressed. The sardonic cousin, a shiny glossy Bible with faded pages, and the cousin with a disability, a despondent comedian with a rotten cover and a bright spark, were the yin and the yang that propelled the orphan into action. He eventually died, finishing his race through noble sacrifice and causing the hypocritical cousin to step into his shoes. After inheriting his deceased cousin’s estate, he awakened to the error of his ways.

I marvelled at the goldmine of experiences in the novel. All the novel was a stage, and the men and women merely players. Some were unwilling, seeking early exits while others sought their entrances. Each character had many parts, be them evil or good, hero or villain, or bully, victim or bystander. Their natures were as constant as an improvisation; their feelings dominated the novel. Feelings which varied in pleasance but were as deep as endless pits.

I wanted others to understand you. I wanted them all to remember their parts, if not their lines. I did not want them to forget that they were acting in a cruel play, in which the characters are ruthlessly beaten with words and deeds, and that each person has their entrance and exit…

That is how you are to me.