It’s raining again

He thought to himself as he shifted his weight to the other side.

He could feel his wet cheek touching the already damp grass below him,

“Mhm,” He mumbled as a heavy droplet fell on his cheek again. He brushes it off, but instead of the ‘droplet’ falling down, his finger gets sticky. His eyes flew open. Looking at his fingers, he tries his best not to gag.

His hands were sticky because it wasn’t raining. It hadn’t rained since the night.

“What the hell.” The saliva on his hands rolls down and drops to the ground.

Groaning, he shifts his weight and lays flat on his back—coming face to face with a donkey. But instead of getting startled, he looked at it with wide eyes before yelling,

“You’re the cutest thing I’ve seen!”

In front of him stood a brown donkey on his four legs. The only problem was, it was only ten to twelve inches.

“Oh my god!” he exclaimed. Standing up, he took the donkey in his arms. Unlike ‘normal’ donkeys, this one wagged his tail as him and looked pleasantly happy to be in Barry’s arms. It was safe to say that the Island was growing on him.

“Oh, you’re so cute! Were you drooling on me?” He talked to him like he’s talking to a human baby. Had his friends been here, they would’ve been dying laughing.

“It’s alright! You’re forgiven! You can drool on me anytime. Yes, you can!” Before he could ‘baby talk’ anymore, Freya’s laugh filled the atmosphere, startling Barry.

“Oh, so my laugh startles you but that doesn’t?” She said, pointing to the little donkey.

“In my defense, this is cute.” He says mischievously and winks at Freya.

The wink catches her off guard, but she didn’t take more than a minute to get back on her track and throw the wooden glass she was carrying towards Barry’s direction. Lucky for him, he ducked at the right moment—protecting himself and the donkey.

“That’s for calling me ugly.” She said, rolling her eyes, turning around, and going inside the house.

“But I never called you ugly!” He said after her.

“You initiated!” Barry heard her distant voice and smiled to himself.

In two days, he understood that she always had to have the last word. He noticed the way Freya’s attitude had changed towards him; he liked it. She was letting him in and being herself. This was a sign that she finally feels comfortable around her, and he was glad.

Not that he didn’t wonder what will happen once he goes back. Will she come with her? Obviously, he can’t stay here forever. That’d be insane. He has a family, a home, a life back in California. It was stupid for him to even think that anything of that sort could happen. But then again, he wasn’t even sure when he’s going to go back. So far, he had zero clues to how he was going to go back, too.

Freya seemed to have no clue about how she ended up being here or if there is any world outside this Island. The thing that really puzzled Barry was, how can she know nothing about her mom, her dad, her life and still end up here—on the Island? It sounded bizarre, almost unbelievable.

Was she lying? He thought to himself, but she can’t.

She was too innocent. When Barry mentioned America and fireworks, she genuinely did not know about it. It was evident through the confusion on her face.

“What are you doing?” Freya’s voice caught him off guard. He jumped a little, causing the donkey to jump, too, and eventually, dropping the little creature.

“Jesus!” He whispered, “God, stop doing that!” He said, irritated

“Doing what?” She stood in front of the door with a wooden spoon in her hand. Her hair was tied in a bun on top of her head.

“Startling me!” Barry replied, stating the obvious. The little donkey landed on his feet and walked away calmly.

Freya turned around and went inside, mumbling, “Can’t help it when you even jump at sneezes.”

Barry hung his head low and sighed. It didn’t take long before that frown turned into a smile—a small, shy smile.

“C’mon now! We need to go to the middle of the Island!” She called from the house, and Barry followed in.

-

The sun was right on top of their heads. It took everything in Barry not to gasp after every step while Freya didn’t bother looking back. She kept her head straight and hiked like a pro.

She is a pro anyway, Barry thought.

They were walking straight, deep into the jungle. The green, uneven grass beneath them whooshed as the wind blew. Every once in a while, Barry would spot a huge mushroom standing in the middle with all its glory. Of course, it was huge. It looked like an umbrella even. Nevertheless, the view was mesmerizing.

Freya walked in front of him, wearing brown shorts and a sleeveless shirt. Barry wore a pair of shorts and his tee-shirt too. The backpack he carried had water and a few survival kits. Freya, being intelligent, packed them breakfast too. To Barry, this seemed like a picnic. He was excited for the middle of the jungle, but Barry was glad he was getting a chance to do this with Freya. He was getting used to the quirky remarks and playful comments while she helped Barry explore the jungle.

Back in America, Barry wasn’t really the ‘fall easily for a girl’ type. He was mostly busy with extracurricular, books, and his two friends. Of course, back in college, girls did like him. It was Barry—what’s not to like, anyway? He was 6 ft. tall, looked like a hunk, but really he couldn’t even walk five kilometers without thinking of crying but nevertheless, he was charming and respectful. He had a girlfriend, Alice. Anyone who looked at Barry could tell he was heading over heels for Alice. She was a redhead, popular for ‘getting what she wants and however she wants.’ They dated for three years before she cheated on him, and that was the last he ever associated himself with a girl.

“Come on!” Freya looked behind at Barry, bent over with his hands on his knee and panting for breath.

“I don’t understand, why do I feel so – so out of energy here? I was in the football team back home,” He replied, brushing off the sweat from his forehead.

It wasn’t hot, but it wasn’t chilly, either. It was the perfect weather—surprisingly. Yet, every now and then, Barry would feel sweat tickling down his forehead.

“It’s because, on the Island, you need much more energy! Once we reach the center, I’ll help you learn some moves. You’ll need it.” Freya dropped her shoulder and smiled.

“How far are we?” Barry said, standing up on his feet, looking at Freya.

From where he stood, the sun was right behind Freya. It made her look merely like a figure, and he couldn’t see her facial expressions.

“A few minutes but if we walk at that rate,” she pointed at Barry, “It might take us a few years.” She said.

Barry looked at her and rolled his eyes.

Yeah, she was pretty and intelligent and always seemed to know what to do but that doesn’t mean she keeps insulting me, Barry thought as he looked at her marching forward.

Barry averted his eyes from her and looked on the ground. Island’s stones and flowers were honestly something else. The ground they were walking on was uneven but a carpet of greenery was spread on it for as far as he could see. Every now and then huge mushrooms would come in his way.

Suddenly, he jumped back.

A colorful, little butterfly flew right in front of his eyes.

“Hey there,” he said, admiring the its beauty. The butterfly moved a little to right and turned back, almost as if it’s indicating Barry to follow,

“You want me to...come?” He said and looked at Freya who was still marching ahead. The butterfly flew in front of him again, becoming a barrier between Freya and him.

“Alright, alright. Let’s see what you have to show me.” He said and followed the butterfly.

Five seconds, that’s it, he thought to himself.

He knew he needed to catch up with Freya and he will. Right after he sees what the little butterfly has to show him, he’ll go back to Freya. Besides, he isn’t a kid. He can take care of himself.

Delicately flapping its wings, the butterfly rose to the sky before descending down and sitting peacefully on a long branch of tree. It was a drooping yellowish evergreen bush, about two or three cm long, on the branch of a host tree. It has thickly crowded forking branches with oval to lance. It looked like the butterfly was sipping from the bush.

Standing cluelessly, Barry looked at the butterfly as it tore a leaf and dropped it on the ground. Barry subconsciously picked it up and sniffed.

“What? Am I supposed to lick it or something?” He looked at the butterfly, hoping for some clue but it seemed too busy sipping from the leaves.

“Okay then.” He said to himself.

Sniffing the leaf again, he slowly brought it near to his mouth and took a small bite. The leaf tasted like.... a leaf.

Unamused, Barry looked at the Butterfly that was enjoying itself,

“Okay, buddy. This didn’t do anything so are we like, waiting for some Island magic to happen ‘cus-”

Barry coughed.

Once.

Twice.

“Oh lord,” He whispered as he trembled to stay on his feet. His throat seemed to close-in, “I can’t -”

Panic filled his conscious as he struggled to breath. He suddenly took on a pale look, as if he had been painted with white-wash - even his lips were barely there. Barry knew he would faint when his stomach gave out. It felt like his innards were being replaced by some kind of black hole. Then nausea crept from his abdomen to his head. Then with one step backwards he crumpled like a puppet suddenly released of their strings. His knees gave up and he fell down; his head hitting damp green bed of grass beneath him. The butterfly flew away.

Barry’s grip loosens on the leaf as his eyes closes.

-

Freya took a deep breath. They were fifteen minutes away only. She was starving. It wasn’t a long walk but she hadn’t been here in ages. Specifically, after the incident, she decided to never, ever come back. She sighed, but here she was again. Fifteen minutes away from the same tall, enchanted, dirty buildings that stood right in middle of the Island.

She couldn’t help but notice how awfully silent Barry had been but she was fine with it. The last thing she wanted to do was listen to his nonsense.

Freya hated that she was already getting used to the idea of him being around. She knew she needed to draw a line and never cross it. This was her home – the island and Barry’s home was somewhere out there. She can’t leave the Island. She doesn’t have a choice anyway.

“Alright, let’s rest. I bet you’re panting like-” Mid-sentence, she turns around and her eyes widen,

“Barry?” she calls out, hoping he was a little far behind and will catch up soon but her voice meets with silence. Filled with frustration and anger, she whispers, “That son of a bitch.” Knowing damn well he had been distracted.

-

“Barry!” She called out again.

Freya was tired looking for him. Battling within herself on whether she should even search for him or not. It was his and his fault only that he would be lying somewhere half eaten if an animal hadn’t decided to take the rest half of him for a full family feast.

“Barry!”

How stupid can he be? Why couldn’t he just follow me, she thought to herself.

Freya came to a halt as she saw a figure lying flat on the grass.

Is he...she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

She ran towards him and sat on her knees. Turning his face towards her, she gasped. He looked pale, incredibly pale. Looking at his lifeless body, she couldn’t help but regret her words. She didn’t want to him go back...not yet, anyway.

Freya gasped as Barry took a deep breath. He turned over and puked.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” She asked as he coughed.

Without speaking, Barry put forward his hand and his eyes fell closed again.

Freya looked at the leaf in his hand and horror struck her. She could her heart beat racing inside her. Her mind blank as she looked at her worst fear – the only thing in the Island which was once overlooked and decided to become the biggest enemy of every animal in this Island.

A mistletoe.