"Already, you are falling under its spell," she continues. "If you value your sanity, you will leave this place... go back to where you came from... and never allow yourself to think of it again."
Unaware that I had been holding my breath, I now gasp and breathe deeply. "Who... who are you?" I croak.
"Once I was like you, vibrant, full of life... and curiosity about the legend of the Shadow People... those who promised long youth and beauty. There was no one to warn me... and I foolishly became one of them."
"One of whom? Who are the Shadow People?"
"Mere shadows of who we used to be... doomed to return to this place periodically when the pull on our minds becomes overpowering... and roam the earth aimlessly the rest of the time. You must leave."
"I don't understand... why do you come back?"
"When you become a slave to that which sets your blood on fire... and frees your mind to fly... to other places... other worlds... there is no other choice. The beings who built this place have taken our souls. All shadows must return here to the place of their creation. I must go now but do not follow. You must leave here while you can... while you are still yourself."
"I wanted to tell the story," I say. "I hoped it would give me a shot at some stability in journalism, some security for the future."
"Write what you know... what you have seen... what I have told you... and write this also: those who provide this drug are not of this world. They have abilities that are unknown here on earth."
"Will they know you have told me?"
She shrugs her frail shoulders. "Perhaps, but it doesn't matter anymore. They can make me look young and beautiful, but the truth is... I am one hundred and fifty years old. Their drugs cannot change that, and I am tired of living."
"I don't have to write the story, not if it will bring you harm," I say.
"Yes you do," she says. "Now that you know the truth, you must write it... to protect others from the same fate. And I believe it will bring you everything you're looking for."
Her face grows sad as her shoulders slump. She takes a stick from the case on her back and leans on it heavily. With slow steps, she turns and walks hesitantly across the next raft. She does not look back. I realize then, that I had forgotten to ask her name, but it might be better that way.
All at once, I understood. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a fragment of a forgotten tale surfaced... a tale of a so-called wonder drug that had promised energy and long life. Wealthy people snapped it up... believing they had found the fountain of youth. They did not wait for the drug to be tested and approved through normal channels.
And then, there was another story... of how that drug had not delivered what was promised. The results were short-lived and those who had tried it now needed it to prevent accelerated ageing instead. As time went on, one's body grew accustomed to the drug and it had to be administered more frequently. They literally became like shadows of who they once were, as their fortunes were spent trying to hang on to the illusion of youth.
Now I understood the meaning of the Shadow People and why they returned here on a regular basis. This was where the drug had been manufactured... and, I presumed, it still was. As I walked quickly back the way I had come, I wondered if anyone was still desperate enough to try the drug in the hope of retaining their youth... and shook my head in wonder.
Vanity... what some people will do to maintain the illusion of youth... even though the body is aging... is truly beyond understanding.
