Jake’s rationalizations tried to redirect the waterfall of reality away from himself so he could avoid getting wet. If the latter rain came his soul was so dry he might start smelling like petrichor. And if he got filled to overflowing who knows what might happen?
From mountain sources water splashed down boulders like conviction eroding away the resistance of his stony heart.
Jake remembered reading somewhere that given the current rate of erosion the entire mountain would be at sea level in less than fifty million years assuming reality lasted that long. He wondered how long his heart could hold out.
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Denise offers the prompt word “petrichor” to be used in this week’s Six Sentence Stories. Although I’ve heard it before I had to look it up. Petrichor is “the earthy scent produced when rain falls on dry soil.“
James 5:7
Be patient therefore, brethren, unto the coming of the Lord. Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit of the earth, and hath long patience for it, until he receive the early and latter rain.














