Petrichor Enchantment

Ever since I remembered, everything’s been different. Running away has become a daily occurrence. But as an adult, the only thing you can run away is from your own shame, agony, embarrassment. As I walk, the earth feels off: the damp dirt giving way under my feet; the bright, yellowing full moon; the muggy sky; even the clouds looked menacing. All my life, there’s been a crackling in the air, a tiny pinprick that ran goosebumps up my arms. But after the flashback, when the dam broke and released all those memories descending on me like a tsunami, the crackling turned into full-on lightning. The sky broke apart, the full moon falling, my conscience going with it. 

Was I even alive anymore? Did my cousin take my spirit with him the day he took my innocence? I thought I was ok, but I guess I’ve been wrong for the past 10 years. I thought it was normal, not remembering anything from that moment on. Does anyone else remember the years between 5 and 10? He picked the exact age to hurt me; no one suspects anything when I say I don’t remember anything from my childhood. I just don’t have good memories. Great timing.

I’ve taken to walking by the lake behind my house every dusk as the sun gives way to the night. The sun’s orange hues bleed away into pinks and purples, bruising the horizon. As I watch the sky break apart, the ground starts to shift and I find myself on my back again, tears blurring my vision and snot choking me. A sinkhole emerges, swallowing me whole and transporting me back to 10 years ago. My tiny, 5 year old body, swallowed and smothered by the sinkhole. No, wait, I remember now, I was actually covered in a blanket. The heavy winter kind, with a tiger on it. The tiger stared blankly at me as it covered my face, turning my gasping breaths into stale air that became heavier as I struggled to breathe. How is it that trying to live can lead you to stealing your own life? 

My instincts betrayed me as I tried to scream. He laughed, cruelly saying, “I told you your mom wouldn’t be able to hear you in my room. Try to scream again.” His proclamation deflated the last remaining air. I let the blanketed darkness envelope me, and instead focused on the bruising pink sky as he tore away my Teletubbies shorts.

I coughed, sputtering out the snot and spit that had pooled in my mouth. I was flat on my back again, splayed out for the moon to witness my pitiful surrender. A stale taste remained, even after I unclogged the plug filling my throat that then landed on the ground with a wet splat. It seemed that I woke up this way every night now, sometimes under the cruel blanket of a cloudy sky, sometimes under my intertwined thin blankets, hidden under my bed. Tonight was a cruel one, so I pushed off the hard ground to my knees and crawled my dusty hands backwards to stand. I moved the only way I knew how right now, stumbling backwards against the tide. The ground continued to open, the sky crackling and shaking. I avoided the sinkholes, as I had fallen enough tonight. 

My hacking cough had not only cleared my throat but also awoken my senses. I hadn’t cushioned my earlier fall and now my whole body groaned with pain as I continued to walk. The cold enveloped me, which made me notice the shivering that had already permeated my bare arms even before I realized I was cold. My stomach was knotted, my palms clammy, and my chest felt as if a deadweight had been dropped on me. I pressed my arms around me, offering a small comfort to placate the anxiety-induced senses. 

As I begrudgingly trudged along under the full moon, I came to the full realization of what had been done to me. For so many years I had tried to push small flashbacks away, only pondering them and my feelings in the middle of the night when I startled awake from recurring nightmares. But tonight, I was ready to come to terms with it all. I slowly felt an anger gurgle inside of me, rising up to my chest. The anger rose and threatened to rip me apart, the feeling again of the werewolf transformation. I felt all the hairs on my arms and back stand straight up, mirroring the goosebumps that were still there. My transformation almost complete, I was afraid to look in the reflections of the newly formed puddles I was passing. Nowadays I strayed away from mirrors and reflective surfaces, crushingly aware that I was no longer the same person. How could I expect to look the same, when I was now altered forever? 

I nearly slipped and fell again after stepping into one of the small puddles. “It must have rained earlier”, I pondered. The earth released petrichor, the sweet smell of rain, as water drops danced with the oil and bacteria from the dry soil. I decided, right then and there, that I would allow for the blood of the goddesses released by the petrichor to inhabit me. I ambled a few feet over and stooped down to the nearest, cleanest puddle. I lowered my face into the puddle, lapping at the water. I slowly drank, relishing the cool sip of water before dropping to my knees again, this time willingly, and stared at the slightly smaller puddle still rippling from my retrieval. I stared, deep in inner reflection, allowing for the ripples to diminish and the water to finally still. The face that stared back at me stunned me; I was not expecting the deadpan, determined look of my grandmother to appear, flashing for a second before it was gone. The water had rippled and given way to stillness, calmness evoked by my strong ancestors. Seeing my grandmother assured me that they would now walk beside me, keeping me standing strong on the stately earth. 

“They never left me”, I thought, before turning to head back home. I was now confident that this was the last walk under the full moon in which my transformation would betray me. The crackling in my bones was now an aura of energy pulsating around me. I was now the keeper of my destiny, my inner werewolf no longer howling to be released. I would now face it head on, with the power of my ancestral goddesses to stand behind me.