The Scent of Rain

by Doug Jacquier

The water bore’s gone dry and Adam stares at the grey-black clouds that cluster like a bunch of stuck-up girls at a school dance that turn him down every time.

He flicks on his solar batteries (powered by the daily hell-fire Sun), loads his player with Classic Hits, turns the volume up to 11, hits play, grabs the microphone and in synchronicity with the soaring guitars, the drums and the backup singers, screams “God, make them dance with me!”

An apocalyptic lightning flash is followed by raindrops like bullets and, as they hit the dust, Adam’s nostrils fill with petrichor.

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DOUG JACQUIER writes from the Fleurieu Peninsula in South Australia. His work has been published in Australia, the US, the UK, Canada, New Zealand, and India. He blogs at Six Crooked Highways and is the editor of the humour site, Witcraft.

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