The Smell of Thunder

The first thing Claire noticed was the scent, wet and the sharp electric smell that always comes before the storm. It was raining yet but the air held its breath the way it always does before the sky breaks open. The earth smelled as if it had been awakened after a long nap.

She stood barefoot in her grandmother’s garden. Her toes curled into the muddy grass. She let the scent of thunder settle over her body. It was the smell of her childhood. The mornings and afternoons were spent hunting worms with her cousin Mica who was more like a brother. Late afternoons were spent hiding in the basement or under the porch while the storm rolled over the hills. After the evening storms passed the scent of the rain would creep through the screen door and make everything new again.

But Claire was not a kid anymore and this wasn’t supposed to be a visit. It was a good-bye.

The house behind her was quiet. The furniture was dusty and the windows were closed. The porch swing was still. Grandma Lita had passed away three months ago and Claire had driven the winding roads from the city to the country to help sort out Grandma’s things. The plan was simple. She was going to pack up the kitchen and next the bedroom. Then she was going to sort through the clothes and eventually sell the house.

But now with her feet buried in the muddy earth and the scent of the storm tickling her nose she wasn’t so sure.

“Claire?”

She turned around and there was her younger brother, Aaron standing there at the edge of the porch holding an old photo album in one hand and shielding his eyes from the sun with the other hand.

“Look what I found in the attic. Thought that you might want it.”

She took it from her brother’s hands and brushed the dust off of the cover. It was a pale blue with the words , “Summer 2004” written in cursive across the front. Claire smiled. The year Mica disappeared.

“We were thirteen.” She whispered, opening the cover. Inside were pictures of them. Claire, Aaron and Mica. They were all sunburnt and covered with mud from Grandma’s garden, chasing each other and smiling. Mica was barefoot and smiling. He was smiling and holding up a strange stone.

Aaron looked over her shoulder. “Yeah he was obsessed with that stone. He thought it was magic.”

Claire nodded. “ He said that when it was underwater it hummed.”

Aaron snorted. “Yeah, he said a lot of weird things.”

The scent of rain intensified. The clouds grew dark and low and the growl of thunder rolled across the sky. Claire looked up. The clouds were thickening now and had a purple hue across the horizon.

“Let’s go in before it starts.” Aaron said as he headed towards the door.

But Claire didn’t follow. She put the photo album under her arm and walked towards the creek. The path hadn’t changed. It was the same narrowness it always was and overgrown in the same places as she remembered. The trees leaned closer and the leaves swayed in the breeze as if they were whispering secrets only they could hear.

The air got damper and the scent of the coming storm clung to her skin. She stopped at the water’s edge. The creek trickled gently. She knelt resting the album on a dry patch of moss and put her fingers in the water. It was colder than she remembered.

She looked around. Everything had stood still. Same trees, same rocks and even the same log bridge that Mica had made out of a fallen tree trunk. And just like that she was thirteen again watching Mica wade into the water, stone in hand and mumbling words that she was not sure were English. He’d shown her once and told her to hold the stone underwater and listen.

“You won’t hear it at first.” He said. “But then it will start whispering. It is like thunder but quieter.”

Claire didn’t believe him.But when she tried it she felt something. Not a sound exactly but a sensation in her ears and a taste of metal on her tongue. She panicked and dropped the stone. Mica laughed.

And two days later he was gone. Not a trace. No signs of a struggle. Just gone.

The police searched the woods. The divers searched the creek. The dogs traced his scent to the edge of the water and then nothing. It was like the earth swallowed him whole. They said it was likely an accident. A fall in the creek and the currant took him away. Or he could have run away. But Grandma never believed it and neither did Claire.

She stood there with her heart pounding in her chest. The storm was getting closer. Lightening flashed in the distance. She stepped into the creek. The water was cold and rose over her ankles then moved over her shins. She moved carefully avoiding the slippery rocks until she stood in the center where Mica stood that day. She knelt down and dipped her hands into the flow of the water.

Nothing.

She tried again, digging under a rock and feeling the creek for something. Something smooth, something wrong. Something that should not be there. And then her fingers brushed against it. She pulled it free. It was the same size and the same shape. A grey stone with something silvery. It felt warmer than the water around it.

She exhaled.

She lowered it carefully and slowly back into the creek like Mica had done that day. At first there was nothing. Then she heard it. Not a sound more like the memory of a sound. A hum inside her head deep and like thunder. The water around it was now still. The air thickened. She held the stone tighter.

“Mica?” She whispered.

A shape flickered on the creek bank.

Claire froze.

The figure was barefoot and soaked. Their wet curls dangled right above the shoulders.

Her heart skipped a beat.

But when the figure stepped closer she saw it was a woman not a boy. She was young and pale. Her linen clothes were soaked in ink and she stared at Claire with dark eyes that shimmered like water in the moonlight.

“You carry the stone.” The woman said. Her voice sounded like rain hitting the leaves.

Claire opened her mouth but no sound came out.

“The boy brought it there once.” She continued. “He listened too closely.”

“What happened?” Claire managed to say.

“He found the door.”

Claire’s voice tightened. “Where is he?”

The woman didn’t answer. Instead she held out her hand. “You must decide. Listen and follow or forget and leave.”

Claire’s fingers tightened around the stone. The hum grew louder. She felt it in her chest and in her bones. Part of her wanted to throw the stone away and run back to the house and pretend like none of this happened. But there was something deeper inside of her. A part that was still there like the thirteen year old. Claire stepped forward.

“I want to know.”

The woman nodded.

Claire wadded across the creek and took her hand. Everything changed. The air folded and the world blinked. And then they were somewhere else.

Not gone exactly. But shifted.

The sky there was dark but it was not night. The trees were taller and thinner. Their bark was etched with unfamiliar rules. The creek still followed but it now glowed faintly between the surface.

Claire gasped.

In the distance on a moss covered stone sat a boy.

Mica.

He turned and smiled.

“Claire?”

She ran to him and dropped the stone. “Mica! What? How?”

“I didn’t think anyone would ever find me.”

She hugged him tightly. He smelled like rain and wildflowers and time.

“I thought that you were dead.”

“I’m not. Well, not exactly. This place is between. I opened something that I shouldn’t have.”

Claire pulled back. “Why didn’t you come back?”

Mica looked at the glowing creek. “Time is not the same here. I don’t know how.”

The woman stepped closer.

“He could not return alone.”

Claire stared at the woman. “But now we can go back?”

The woman hesitated. “You must choose. Only one can go back.”

Claire took a deep breath.

“What?”

“One in. One out. The door demands balance.”

Mica’s eyes widened. “Claire you can’t stay. You have a life.”

“So do you.”

“But I already lost mine.”

Claire shook her head.

“No, we both come back. There has to be a way.”

The woman’s face softened. “There’s no trick. Only the truth.”

Claire turned back to Mica.

“Then we break the rule.”

Mica frowned. “How?”

She looked at the stone. It glowed faintly. It was still pulsing.

“If it's a key maybe it needs a new lock.”

Claire knelt pressing the stone between their joint hands.

“Think of home.” She whispered. “The smell of the rain. The porch swings on the porch. Grandma’s garden.”

Mica closed his eyes. So did she.

The hum got louder and the air cracked.

And then…

They were back. Flat on their backs in the muddy creek. The rain is falling on them. Thunder splitting the sky.

Claire coughed and then laughed. Mica rolled to his side blinking in the rain storm.

“I can’t believe it worked.” Claire said.

Mica grinned. “You were always the smart one.”

They scrambled to their feet and ran back to the house. They were soaked and breathless. Aaron stood on the porch.

“Is that?”

Claire nodded. “Yes, he’s home. Our cousin is finally home.”