Scrambled Tales

Grief in the Petrichor

This was my entry for AmbassadorsPK  Monsoon Season Contest. I hope y'all will like this.

PROMPT: Whenever it rains, it aches.

Flashbacks in bold.

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INAAYAT

THE MIDNIGHT GLORY is shining above and the starry canvas is a view to behold, a soft zephyr plays with my auburn waves as they rustle sweet nothings to me. A drop of pearl touches the ground, the petrichor engulfs me in memory. A pain of decade, the grief of eternity.

Sitting on the wooden swing under the old bougainvillaea with petals covering the titled porch reminding me of the beautiful past I lived under them, here. But that was a decade ago, eons ago.

Unknowingly my brown eyes find their way towards the iron gate of my residence, the brown gates across the alley. The closed brown gates, a sign of a closed book that can never open again.

A gulp.

Pain sojourns, somehow, somewhere.

I let myself engulf in the arms of the past, let myself float upon the deep sea of memories, let myself walk through the lane of laughter, of pain. For when it rains, it pains. My heart aches and my eyes bleed.

A gust of wind passed me leaving a mist of pain, for a moment, even in the dark alley, I can see the past making a troll in front of the familiar brown gates. For once I see the lean tanned boy of nineteen summers, with untamed curls and a charming smile sitting on his bicycle waiting for the eighteen spring girl whose long auburn waves are tied in a long braid.

The faded memory of the first kiss that he stole standing right in the middle of the alley, the moment my breath halted and next I ran back to my place with a thugging heart and a shy smile. The clouds roar that night, I thought it to be a sign of love. Little did I know, love brings heartbreak too, destruction.

The memory of the first call is still there in my mind.

That summer I was sitting right under this tree when his call came.

"Hello," I asked.

"Turn around" Eyes furrowed at the known voice, turning my head a little towards the large iron gates, the house across the street and there he stands.

That summer evening the sky was tainted in hues of pink blue orange and purple, clouds strewed there as happiness and love spattered upon. For love had found a new residence in my heart, for him, only him.

I sighed as I remember the petrichor touching the ground, bring the pain along. He crossed the alley, pushed the iron gates. The winds danced crazily, the dance of love, the anthem of happiness. The clouds roar as the young lovers stands in front of each other.

By that time his black T-shirt was sticking to his lean body so did my white dress. He pulled me towards him, and the rain pours upon us, the rain of love.

His face came near me, my heartbeat rising to its peak.

His luscious lips kissed my earlobes as he whispered, "I missed you Inaayat."

And I swear I lost my breath then. He twirled me and I danced along.

That day for the first time in my eighteen summers, I had loved the rain, I had danced there, with him. For I had fallen in love for the first time in all these eighteen summers.