After the blackness of night, Earth’s star finally rose on the horizon, spreading their gold in every direction. The sun rays shone bold and free, for anyone who cared to open their eyes in the dawn and watch the world awake. The sun rays weren’t harsh. They felt soft, comfortable even, as they touched Barry’s skin.

The day in Island looked different, it felt different. Under the sunrise, the apples glowed rosier than they do in the day shine. The branches of each tree spread out as if so proud of the bounty they brought and sweetness given within each one. It was a party of colors, of chaos and order, of a beauty that sprung from simple seeds blessed with mud and rain.

Embodied with light fog, chilly atmosphere, scent of rain and mud mixed together, fresh and blossomed flowers, the Island was different.

Barry woke up with the sun shining on his face. He wasn’t sweating as he usually would when he slept outside. He felt good – great even. The grass beneath him was slightly damped from last night’s heavy pour. He stretched his body and yawned. Surprisingly, the chilly air was getting to him and he was feeling colder than usual. The goosebumps on his either hand indicated how cold his body was.

“Weird.” He whispered to himself.

Shaking his head to wake up his mind, he yawned again. Looking down to his chest, Barry realized why he felt so cold.

He didn’t have a shirt on.

“Um?” He raised his brow.

Trying to remember what happened last night, he looked around for clues; something to remind him about the night before but apart from a giant leaf and his bag, there was nothing.

Not even Freya.

The leaf reminded him of the Banshees...but where was Freya?

“Freya?” He called out for her.

Barry looked sideways but she wasn’t there. It wasn’t until he got on his feet and turned around. There she was... sleeping soundly and undisturbed. Her chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths. Barry’s water bottle was right beside her and it was almost empty. Judging by how thirsty Barry woke up, he was sure she’d be thirsty too. And since he woke up before her, he could go around for a walk and fetch some water for both of them.

Barry walked near her and picked up the bottle. His eyes fell on a white shirt laying right beside Freya.

It was his shirt.

Shocked, as to how his shirt got here, he quickly wore it and started the mission.

As he walked deeper in the forest, he was sure Freya won’t be up until an hour or two. He woke up pretty early which was unnatural and shocking for him. The Island usually made him tired so his ‘beauty sleep’ was necessary for him. Besides, ever since the Banshees took out the poison from his chest, he had been feeling drowsy than usual. He would sleep more and eat more. Freya told him he was snoring, too. As much as Barry would like to disagree, he wasn’t sure if it was false. He had been sleeping pretty well. Similar to last night, he slept really well. He even dreamed of....

Barry’s eyes widened and he stopped on his track.

“I dreamed of... kissing Freya?!” he thought to himself, “Or did it actually happen?” if they could, he eyes defiantly grew wider.

He stood there, with an empty bottle in his hand, staring at nothing. He shook his head and started walking again.

‘Of course, I didn’t kiss her. It was a dream. Do you not know her?’ he asked himself, ‘She thinks you’re stupid and childish. And besides, I woke up seven or eight feet far away from her. Had we kissed, shouldn't we at least be sleeping besides each other or something?’ he came to a conclusion.

Vibration beneath his feet cut him off. It suggested the waterfall was nearby. A few feet more and in front of him stood a rocky, giant mountain. The mountain was vampire-white. A wave of white snow went rumbling down the sides. It was also crumpled at the base and sky-stabbing at the top. The legs of the mountain were weirdly wide, and the peak looked like harpoon tips. It was shrouded in ghost-grey mist.

Of course, it was tiered and plunged into the depths of a paradise-blue pool. The noise of ever enchanting water fall was growling and rumbling. Then it foamed into a lather at the base. The waterfall seemed to fuse itself into distinct threads of light fabric. It was as if a loom of liquid silver was pouring down the rocks, looking as heavenly as they can. The spout was hitting the cavernous hollow of the pool like a thunderclap. It rushed down the mountain, roiling and bubbling, boiling and churning. The pool fed two other smaller waterfalls, but they were not as deafening.

Holding the bottle in his hand, he walked along the edge of the rocks, leaving the swollen noise of the large pool behind. The sound of the waterfall turned in to a gentler swoosh-plunk and hiss-plop.

The two waterfalls streamed into one infinity pool of bliss.

From it, the last spillway flowed, as smooth and fluvial as silver dew. It spilled over the gravelly bed with the sweet sensuality of a lover’s kiss. It was chiming as it slid, svelte and slinky, past his feet.

The chinking, tinkling sound was echoing from rock. It looked like the sleek robe of a water witch as its glassy brilliance pinged and plinked. Its edges were seamed in silver and glinted in the aureate light.

Even though Barry had witnessed waterfall a couple of times, he wasn’t sure if he’ll ever get over how beautiful and enchanting, they were. A smile appeared as droplets touched his face. It felt fresh.

Barry filled the bottle with cold and sweet water. As much as he wanted stick by the waterfall for a few minutes, he knew if Freya woke up, she’ll go nuts thinking he walked into a dead trap again and killed himself.

He smiled to himself but it didn’t last. The smile vanished as he remembered his mother. It felt like eternity since he last saw her. He didn’t even think what she must be going through. He got so caught up with this new world, he forgot about his own. His school his friends, his family....

Just then, the clouds moved a little, and sun rays caught the watery slide, giving it a trance-like quality. It turned it a-glitter, like shreds of silky silver. The light sparkling of its spray was magical. It looked like a spritz of fairy dust, flickering in the slanted light. It had the dreamy and illusory façade of a Renaissance painting and the same shimmering sorcery a mirage brings.

It felt as if the Island wanted to show Barry how much he means to it. But the Island wasn’t Barry’s home... he had to leave.

He picked up the bottle and turned around. He made up his mind to talk to Freya, ask her how to get out of here. Barry had to leave. He had to go back and live a normal life. How can he be normal here where elephants are small and rabbits are huge? The island was pretty but it wasn’t his home. He didn’t belong here.

The noise subsided as he walked away. It became a distant humming again. He ventured one look back over his shoulder. The willowy waterfall flashed silver one more time. Its soul-swelling magic looked surreal.

After five minutes, the waterfall’s noise completely vanished. He kept thinking of all the questions he’ll ask Freya. How to leave, is there a boat, is there a plane, is there a way to commuinca-

“Ouch, what the fuck!”

In front of him stood an enormous, grey, destroyed aircraft. It looked nothing like the normal airplane that people would board... it looked ready to...attack. It had six windows of each side and all of them were broken. The island had made the aircraft’s its own property as it covered it with long, narrow leaves.

But all this didn’t shock Barry as much as the U.S army’s logo did.