One word prompt: Petrichor
The curtains flailed wildly, its rings clanking against the rod, a chime of sorts. The door creaked, albeit faintly, as it swayed to the rhythm of the wind. I woke up to the sound of first drops pelting the ceiling, turning stronger by the minute. Window panes streamed with water as the sky thundered with all its might. After weeks of dry spell, scorching sun parching throats and glazing skin with sweat, this unseasonal rain was a welcomed respite. Moreover, the aesthetics of rains have always soothed me and I’ve fond memories of every monsoon.
The billowing trees and blossoming buds glistened, as though they’d been painted afresh. Like me the nature too rejoiced as little birds chirped gaily and flitted from tree to tree. Cool breeze whisked my hair and droplets grazed my feet, as I stood still immersed in the glorious sight, inhaling the musty smell of wet earth. I closed my eyes and a mere blankness engulfed my mind, enclosing me in a sanctum of pure contentment. Momentarily the banal earthly desires vanished, replaced by a higher level of awareness.
As the rain cleansed the earth, petrichor cleansed my soul.