FIGURATIVE LANGUAGE

The Wish 

by Roald Dahl 

Under the palm of one hand the child became aware of the scab of an old cut on 

his kneecap. He bent forward to examine it closely. A scab was always a 

fascinating thing; it presented a special challenge he was never able to resist. 

Yes, he thought, I will pick it off, even if it isn’t ready, even if the middle of it 

sticks, even if it hurts like anything. 

With a fingernail he began to explore cautiously around the edges of the scab. He 

got the nail underneath, and when he raised it, but ever so slightly, it suddenly 

came off, the whole hard brown scab came off beautifully, leaving an interesting 

little circle of smooth red skin. 

Nice. Very nice indeed. He rubbed the circle and it didn’t hurt. He picked up the 

scab, put it on his thigh, and flipped it with a finger so that it flew away and 

landed on the edge of the carpet, the enormous red and black and yellow carpet 

that stretched the whole length of the hall from the stairs on which he sat to the 

front door in the distance. A tremendous carpet. Bigger than the tennis lawn. 

Much bigger than that. He regarded it gravely, setting his eyes upon it with mild 

pleasure. He had never really noticed it before, but now, all of a sudden, the 

colors seemed to brighten mysteriously and spring out at him in a most dazzling 

way. 

You see, he told himself, I know how it is. 

The red parts of the carpet are red-hot lumps of coal. What I must do is this: I 

must walk all the way along it to the front door without touching them. If I touch 

the red I will be burnt. As a matter of fact, I will be burnt up completely. And the 

black parts of the carpet . . . yes, the black parts are snakes, poisonous snakes, 

adders mostly, and cobras, thick like tree trunks round the middle, and if I touch 

one of them, I’ll be bitten and I’ll die before tea time. And if I get across safely,