Tuesday, July 14, 2015

the boy who cried rain



He said he loved the smell of rain. I said rain didn’t smell like anything. It must’ve been the heat escaping from the ground. No, he insisted. When it comes, you’ll understand what I mean.

He said he loved the smell of rain and so I showed him mine. I let him in to see my thunder, my scattered rainfalls, my tropical depressions. It was too late when the first of the floods rushed in.

Struggle. Air. Footing. The last time I saw him.

In the early morning when there is quiet, I still hear the boy who cried rain.

This and other 100-word stories in Project 0.1.

Photo: art-rain-room
♫: Diana Vickers | The Boy Who Murdered Love (2010)

8 comments:

  1. Petrichor. That's what you call the smell of rain after a long, dry spell. Interestingly, petrichor, is cleansing despite being mildly toxic; an apt comparison to how writers often see rain as a 'cleansing' and liberating experience right after the downpour.

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  2. why can't i write the way you, guys do?

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    1. Jopet: Hello and welcome to my blog! And ano ka ba! You do kaya! Such a shame you weren't here a few years ago. This space has become.. well... kind of a ghost town. haha

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  3. ganda ng mga imahe. iba ka talaga, nyl! sana magtuluy-tuloy na ang iyong pagbabalik. mas masayang magbukas ng blogspot kapag nasa dashboard ka. :)

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    1. Aris: Nasa Facebook na ako madalas! haha Nakakalungkot na rin kasi dito. :( Di na tulad ng dati.

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  4. Para sa akin, okay nang paminsan-minsan mong pagpo-post dito kaysa tuluyan kang tamarin at maisipang 'wag nang sumulat. Mahusay ka pa rin sir. :)

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    Replies
    1. Limarx214: Di ako huminto! Lumipat lang! Pero siyempre, babalik at babalik parin ako dito. Iba parin ang samahang Blogspot!

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