An Obvious Metaphor

Ever wonder what Sreya was probably like in high school? Apparently I did.

"She paces the corridor nervously with wide, rolling eyes, hobbling on swollen, calloused feet. Her toenails are overgrown, toes twisted with arthritis. Flies swarm the feces smeared down the backs of her legs, her knees are bruised and begrimed. Her hair hangs in a wild, tangled mat over protruding shoulder blades. Swollen breasts, inflamed and irregular with infection, hang loosely over her too-visible rib cage. Her belly sags in a paunch, once cradle to seemingly countless infants, now barren with age and abuse. This is why she is here; there is no use for a woman who can no longer bear young.

Lice and ticks worry her skin, and she attempts to scratch them free, but without nails it is a futile effort. Her fingertips had been cut off at the last joint when she was a baby; when crowded, children tend to bicker and scratch at one another, after all. This and the confinement that has softened her constitution keep her from being much of a threat to the workers who stick canes through the bars, jabbing at her ribs and buttocks to prod her towards the chute.

She lets out a pathetic, braying cry of fear and confusion, attempting to turn away from the din of the auction ahead. A rod strikes her across the bridge of her nose, seperating flesh and fascia as a bruise instantly swells beneath her skin. The woman falls to her knees with a shriek, the -"

"Ok, that's enough."

Sreya raised her eyes to meet her instructor's disapproving gaze.

"Excuse me?"

The man looked over the rim of his glasses, bushy eyebrows shadowing the steel gray glare below them.

"I realize that I requested you create a piece of writing around a metaphor, but don't you think the analogy of humans to animals is a bit obvious?"

Sreya contemplated her teacher's question for a moment, and a fierce smiled appeared on her young face.

"It ought to be, shouldn't it?"