He stood watching as the bus gradually disappear into a cloud of dark grey dust. The silence that was disturbed by the loud screeching of the ancient bus’ brakes resumed instantly as if a thick blanket was dropped from above to cover the annoying noise.

Standing very still, he listens to the light rustling of the trees in the soft afternoon breeze and the persistent chirping of various kinds of insects. If he concentrates enough, he could also hear the crashing of the waves in the distance. The early summer sunlight is bringing out the best in everything under it, the green in the leaves, the red in the wild flowers, even the yellow in the rusty bus stop sign.

Next to the dilapidated bus stop made of thin iron slates stands a weather beaten signboard made of thick wood. On it in bold calligraphy – Welcome to Bluebird Village

Bluebird Village…..?

He turned towards where the sign is pointing, along the road. In a far distance, he could see signs of civilization. There are buildings too, not too many, not too few.

Maybe….this is where his journey shall end.

Bluebird Village.

He repeats the name once more to himself. Suddenly a soothing whistle rang around him. A shadow crosses above him. He looks up in time to see a turquoise colored bird glides past rather leisurely. It is the size of a peacock, wings expanded to reveal a snow white underbelly and a red beak, looking as glamorous as a runway model while it glides effortlessly with its long glimmering feathers trailing after it. Strangely, it reminds him of a phoenix, a bird that belongs to folklore.

As if realizing his awestricken stare, the strange yet beautiful bird turned and flew towards him, dipping its head several times as if bowing at him. As it flew past him, the bird will make a graceful swoop and fly back towards him.

“Unbelievable…” He mutters, head lifted high to watch the bird dance above him against a background of the clearest azure sky. Melodious bird cries penetrate his ears.

“Lee Junho!” A soft whisper caresses his ear. Shivers went down his spine but what truly startled him next is the heavy clap on his shoulder. The backpack in his hand slipped and hit the ground with a soft thud.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were deep in thoughts! Did I scare you?” The hand on his shoulder accompanied the hurried voice as a youngish looking man walked around him quickly to apologize. His brown hair a shade of pale gold, wearing a neon orange t-shirt stretched way too tight over his broad chest and a pair of board shorts. The cap on his head reads Bluebir