Kayla gasped for air, her lungs burning like fire (simile). She knew if she stopped now, she may not see Bailey again. The little dog had leaped over the fence when the fireworks started, his tiny figure a blur against the night sky (imagery), and took off down the street. He obviously did not care for the fireworks, which roared like angry thunder.
Kayla turned the corner onto Applegate Avenue when she heard a sound that made her heart race. Kayla stood still, the scent of freshly cut grass mingling with the cool evening air (imagery), listening for Bailey. Sure enough, she heard a few small yips coming from the Jackson’s open garage. Kayla walked toward the Jackson’s house, the distant booming of fireworks echoing like a gigantic drum (onomatopoeia). A moment later, Mrs. Jackson met Kayla on the front walk holding Bailey.
“Thank you so much,” said Kayla, her voice a melodious song of relief. “I’ve been chasing him!”
“Well, I don’t blame him for running,” Mrs. Jackson replied, handing the dog back to Kayla. “Those loud sounds have been getting on my nerves too. They’re like a storm in my mind” (metaphor).
Kayla walked home holding Bailey tightly, his heart thumping against her palm (personification) to keep him from squirming away. Once they were back inside the safety of their house, Kayla put Bailey in his dog bed and he settled down, the chaos of the outside world replaced by their own cozy sanctuary (oxymoron). “It’s so quiet in here, it feels like the calm after a hurricane” (hyperbole).