Junshandao-Island of lost souls
Green are the lawns, overhanging shadows of a 1000 years gone by - the Island covered in thick, impenetrable fog, so deep and mystic - hiding the deep secrets of the lost souls of the two empresses. Perhaps one should leave them to rest. Venturing out on the Island is not for the faint hearted. Except a few villagers gathering around their usual Temple place, engulfed deeply into their daily Da-Mahjong games, no other soul in sight.An eerie feeling overcomes me ; in solitude I wander down the path in the sunken jungle of thick, dense Bamboo forest, no sound but the cracking of undergrowth, and branches above the rain saturated soil.
At an instance I pause, was there not a faint sound, almost a whisper I hear ? I stand in silence, listening to the distant whispers. Spoken in an unfamiliar Mandarin, I cannot make out.
I am in the middle of the Bamboo thicket that stretches from one side of the island to the other. The rain is drizzling down on me, leaves scratching, as I move towards the sounds, slowly, trying to avoid to create any unnecessary noise.
Meanwhile I realize that I have lost track of my direction, with all the lush green forest around me.
Flashes of images from a time gone by come to my mind, sedans and people, dressed in ancient attire, with guards marking in front an back. Tiny, yet immaculate, faces of the past, could they be Ehuang and Nvying ? Suddenly, as it came, the whispers have stopped.
Shivering, the cold, wet surrounding, some miles away from all human dwellings, stumbling across the thicket, lost in thoughts – lost in time.
For a second – a faint shimmer of light filtering through the foliage. No trail, no footpath, still hearing the faint sounds, far away in the hills that surround the Bamboo, junshandao the Island of the lost souls.
I return to the spot where Emperors landed thousands of years ago, Dongtinghu, its waters come into view, its shores stretching 100 s of square miles, far away the Imperial Fleet guarding the oncoming vessel carrying Emperor Shun and his entourage.
Faint the silhouettes of Ehuang and Nvying, in vain attempt to make out their husbands, who were left on the island. Almost visible sadness, heartache overcoming the imperial concubines, giving in to fate.
Dongtinghu, tales of the lost souls Junshandao Green are the lawns, overhanging shadows of a 1000 years gone by - the Island covered in thick, impenetrable fog, so deep, almost mystical - hiding the deep secrets of the lost souls of the two empresses.