[翻譯] Nosleep-我的阿姨露西(完)

  • 2017-04-09
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My aunt Lucy was eight years old. Or, at least, that’s how I always pictured her— she was my Mum’s older sister, so she’d probably be in her fifties if she was alive today.

“She was stolen away by the fairies,” my grandma told me, “they came to her in the woods and played with her— they’re ugly, fairies are, so hideously ugly that you’d run away screaming if you set eyes on one, but they can change their form. They dressed themselves in buttercups and put dewdrops in her eyes that distorted her vision. To her they would have looked like beautiful children.”

“Beautiful children?” I gasped, I must have been about four, “but in real life they’d still be ugly fairies?”

“Yes, with teeth like jagged rocks and skin like tree trunks covered in moss and lichen— only their eyes would have stayed the same. They’d have been bright red, like coals, so they never looked her straight in the face. They told her they were going to a party and asked if she wanted to come. They said it was just across the lake and that it wasn’t as deep as she thought, they made the deep murky water look shallow and crystal clear.”

“Then what happened?”

“They took her by the hand and begged her to let them lead her in— they can lead you anywhere, fairies can, but they can’t make you go if you don’t agree to go with them— so they begged and begged and, eventually, she said yes.”

“Then what?”

“She took off her shoes and her socks and, the moment her feet touched the water, she was sucked in. Once she was under the fairies revealed their true shape and true nature— they told her that she couldn’t leave and pricked and pinched her to make her swim down to the bottom of the lake.”

“Why didn’t she just stick her head up and shout for help?”

“There was nobody there to hear her. Anyway, when she swam up through the water she found that the surface was hard as glass. She couldn’t go up, she could only go down. She could never go up again.”

Though I wasn’t much of a skeptic at four years old, this last but did give me pause for thought. “Grandma,” I said, “if she never came up again then how do you know the story?”

My grandma’s expression blackened. “They told me,” she said, “they like to tell me things. Like what they did to Lucy and what they do to other children like her. Do you know what they did to Lucy?” she was shouting now. I leant away from her, as far as you can lean away from somebody while sitting in an armchair. I pobably would have got up and run if my feet had been touching the ground. As it was I burrowed myself into the cushioned back rest and shook my head. “They gave her food,” she said, glaring at me as if it was all my fault, “she cried and wouldn’t take it, so they had to force it down her throat. Then, the moment she swallowed it, she froze.”

She paused, obviously waiting for a response, but I was too busy edging away from her as fast as possible. After a few seconds, she just carried on regardless.

“Yes, froze. Her heart stopped beating, her eyes stopped seeing, her lungs stopped breathing, her ears stopped hearing.”

“You mean she died?” I whispered.

“No,” she said, seeming to regain her composure, at any rate her voice went back to its normal volume, “not died. Her body stopped but her brain didn’t. She’s still down there, they tell me, still fresh as a daisy. Her hair has been growing all this time, they tell me, and her nails and she’s still awake inside. She wants to leave,” her voice started rising again, louder and more excited with every syllable, “she wants to leave! She wants to leave! But they won’t LET HER GO!!!” The three words were said as a screech. The noise made me burst into tears and sent my mother running into the room. She picked me up, hugged me and carried me out of the room, away from my grandma, who was shrieking and writhing in her chair like an animal.

From then on, I was only taken to see my grandma very rarely (though my mother went every week) and I was never left alone with her again.

For a while after that, until I was around nine years old, I was plagued by recurring nightmares about strikingly beautiful children that morphed into horrible bark skinned monsters and tried to drag me into the lake. In my dreams my grandma’s stories about fairies not being able to lead you where you didn’t want to were wrong— they pulled me down feet first until I was up to my neck in it. Then I would wake up, often soaking wet from what I always thought, for a few desperate seconds, was lake water.

But, as I grew up, the story started to lose its power over me. I stopped waking up screaming in the night— I was nine years old, I was too big to be afraid of a stupid fairy story. In fact, I started retelling it. In the playground, at sleepovers, round the campfire when we went on our residential school trip— I became famous for it. People would beg me to tell them “that freaky story with the fairies” and, if they didn’t believe it, then they could always come round to my house and see the faded photograph on the mantelpiece of a pretty little girl with blue eyes and brown pigtails.

It was when my Mum caught me on one of these little ‘tours’, that I finally heard the true story of what happened to my aunt Lucy.

She walked in on me and a group of friends passing round the photograph while I told them the story. I stopped in mid word when I saw her walk in— though I’d long ago stopped believing in my grandma’s story, I was well aware that something had happened to my Mum’s older sister and that it probably wasn’t anything good.

My Mum ordered all my friends out of the house. I remember that I half wondered about sneaking out with them, but I was smart enough to know that I wouldn’t have gotten away with it. When they were all gone she sat me down next to her on the sofa and I prepared myself for the oncoming lecture and/or grounding. Instead, she started telling me the real story of what happened to my aunt Lucy.

My grandmother and my grandfather, (who died before I could meet him) lived in a cottage at the end of a village by a wood. It was the 1960s, back when it was normal to to let your kid wander around for miles as long as they didn’t walk on people’s flowerbeds and came home when it got dark. Mostly the kids of the village just played football on the greene and ran up and down the lanes, through hedges and in and out of people’s back gardens. Occasionally, though, they’d go down to the woods.

Then, one day, my aunt Lucy didn’t come home. At first my grandparents were just angry, my Mum was sent down to the village to find her and tell her what dire punishments awaited her when she got home. But she wasn’t in the village and, after a few hours, anger turned to worry and my grandfather went out with a torch to check the woods.

He came back, crying and clutching the bright red mary jane shoes that had been bought for Lucy in town the weekend before— my Mum remembered being jealous of those shoes, so jealous that for weeks after she walked around feeling guilty, convinced that she was somehow responsible for her sister’s death. The shoes had been found by the lake, along with a pair of white cotton socks. It was pretty clear what had happened, Lucy had gone in for a paddle, or maybe just to dip her feet, and had slipped and drowned. People said (when they’d forgotten that my Mum was still in the room) that it was only a matter of time before she bobbed back up again.

She didn’t, though. She stayed under— “probably she got tangled up in some weeds or something”, my Mum said— and shortly after my Grandma started saying that the fairies took her. My grandfather had her commited after she started saying she could hear them talking to her.

I stopped telling the story after that but, years later, I became interested in it again. After some intense googling, I found the newspaper that had reported her death. “Local Girl Drowned” was the headline and the picture below it was, eerily enough, a copy of the very same one that still sat on my Mum’s mantelpiece.

The name of the village was there too and I wondered about going there, just to have a look around. But a second later I decided against it— I’ve always been a bit morbid, but even I had my limits and driving several miles to a village in the middle of nowhere just because a girl died there was one of them.

Or so I thought, anyway. The idea kept gnawing at me, you see, niggling away at the back of my brain. I found myself, casually, just out of curiousity, going on google maps to see how long exactly it would take me to drive to the village and typing the postcode into my sat nav, ‘just to see if the destination time matches up with google maps’.

It took a week for me to finally give in, but give in I did and that weekend I drove down to that village ‘just so I could learn more about my family history.’ I wasn’t fooling myself one bit, not really.

The woods were smaller than I had expected. My mother had made them sound huge and so thick that you couldn’t see through them for the trees— like the sort of woods you’d find in Grimm’s fairytales. Instead they were actually quite nice, full of golden sunlight that flowed freely through the gaps between the trees. As I walked I wondered whether my Mum’s imagination and the childhoood trauma she connected to them had made them loom large in her memory, or whether the woods really had been that big and the trees had just been cut down to make way for more houses.As it was, it only took my about ten minutes to reach the lake, which lay in the centre.

This was more like it. The lake was wide, about five metres across, probably not quite big enough to qualify as a proper lake, but big enough that you could see why it had earned the nickname. There didn’t seem to be anything in it— no ducks dabbling by the shore, no fish swimming close to the surface— and the water was still and black. You could easily picture a child falling in here and never coming up again. I almost thought I saw the pair of red shoes and white cotton socks waiting by the shore, or heard the faint sound of childish giggling…

My ears pricked up. I could hear giggling. I looked around and a small laughing face popped up from behind a tree. A little boy, couldn’t have been older than ten, with stunning golden blonde curls and cute chubby cheeks. A girl appeared next to him, peeping out shyly through some branches. “Hello.” She said.

“Hello,” I said back, I looked around again, “are your parents anywhere about?”

They both burst into fresh giggles like I’d just made the funniest joke in the world and the girl stepped forward, revealing long silky raven black hair that framed a perfectly sculpted little face, with cheekbones to die for. “What are you doing?” She asked.

“Just taking a walk.” I replied, deciding that ‘it all started when my aunt was stolen by fairies’ was not a great way to begin a conversation. She nodded and she and the boy walked away from the trees and stood beside me on the muddy shore.

“It looks very deep,” the boy said, then, as if he was telling me an important secret, “there’s a skeleton down there.”

I looked down at him in surprise, “what?”

“There’s a skeleton,” the girl said, “it floated up one day. We haven’t told the grown ups about it.” she put one of her hands in mine and pointed with the other, “it’s just over there.”

‘Over there’ was a bit of the lake that was covered by the low hanging branches of a nearby tree. “It’s in the water,” she said, “you can see it if you paddle over.”

The boy took my other hand and stepped in to demonstrate— the water only came up to his ankles and, I noticed for the first time, that his feet were bare. The girl stepped in after him, shedding the dainty slippers that she wore on her own feet. “Come on, miss,” the boy said eagerly, “we haven’t told anybody else. You’re the first one! Please!”

“Please!” The girl echoed, “please come and see it! It’ll only take a minute— please!” I nodded without thinking about it. Of course I would go and see the children’s skeleton, it would only take a minute.

I bent down to take off my shoes and that, that was what saved me. As I bent down my head came level with the little girl’s and it was then that I saw what kind of eyes sat in that pretty little face. They were bright red, like burning coals, and as I looked into them the skin around them seemed to turn to bark, all covered with moss and lichen.

The grips on my hands tightened and they started trying to pull me in. Luckily, I think they’d underestimated my strength— the last person they tried this on was eight years old and willing, after all. I was a grown woman and absolutely terrified, it didn’t take long for me to shake them off.

I woke up on the side of the lake, soaked with what, I am very glad to say, was lakewater. There was a man standing over me, apparently he’d been out walking his dog and heard me scream. People said I was in shock and I found it easier to just go along with them.

No, I didn’t really believe I saw fairies— I’d just slipped and fallen in the lake. I’d thrashed around for a bit and screamed before managing to swim to the side. Then I’d fainted and had weird dreams until that nice man had found me. The shock had caused me to wipe it from my memory.

I told them what they wanted to hear and they stopped bothering me. Who knows, maybe they were right. Maybe the whole thing was just a very vivid dream. That’s what I’d like to think.

Only one thing prevents me from agreeing with them and forgetting the whole thing. When the fairies were dragging me down into the lake, or rather, when I dreamed that the fairies were dragging me down into the lake, for a second, just for a second, I swear that the water went clear.

Suddenly I could see right down to the bottom of the lake. I’d been right when I’d thought that there was nothing in it— I still couldn’t see any fish or crabs or anything. No weeds either, just smooth pebbles all along the bottom. The whole place would have been totally empty if it weren’t for the girl.

She stood on the bottom, her feet poised to push against the pebbles, her hands helplessly reaching for daylight. She was wearing a blue gingham dress, which swayed around her legs with the rythmth of the water lapping at the shore. Her long fingernails grew in spirals around her outstretched hands and her long hair floated around her face like a lion’s mane. Her face, even when it was twisted in a look of terror, was still easily recognisable as the face from the photograph that me and my friends had passed around with our grubby little hands.

In the split second before I finally got free of the strange children and the water was once again clouded over with murk, I swear her eyes moved.

  1. 2018:  斐讯K3路由器:开放远程KMS激活Windows10/8/8.1/7/office(4)

原文標題:My aunt Lucy
原文網址:https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/63hggm/my_aunt_lucy/

最近版上好像很多Reddit的翻譯XD
希望大家喜歡這篇

我的阿姨,露西,八歲。
至少我總是這樣去想像她的樣貌—她是我媽媽的姊姊,如果她還活著的話,現在應該五十幾歲了。

「她被小精靈拐走了。」外婆這麼告訴我,「祂們在森林裡跟她玩—祂們長得很醜,真的,醜得很駭人。
醜到如果你不小心看到他們,會被嚇到尖叫著逃跑。但祂們可以變換樣貌,祂們會把自己偽裝成毛茛,
把露水滴在祂的眼睛裡,擾亂她的視覺。這樣在她眼中祂們就會是漂亮的孩子。」

「漂亮的孩子?」我倒抽一口氣,那時我大概四歲,「但是在現實裡祂們還是醜陋的小精靈?」

「對,祂們有鋸齒狀的利牙,樹皮一樣粗糙的皮膚被蘚苔和地衣覆蓋—只有祂們的眼睛會維持原樣。
那雙眼睛是透亮的紅色,像是燒紅的煤炭,所以祂們從來不會正視她的臉。
祂們邀請她一起去一個派對,祂們說只是在湖的彼岸,湖也沒有想像中那麼深。
祂們把幽深的湖水變得宛如水晶一般清澈透明。」

「然後發生了什麼事?」

「祂們牽著她的手,求她讓祂們帶她去—祂們可以帶你去任何地方。祂們可以,但如果你不願意就辦不到—
所以祂們不斷求啊、求啊,最後她終於說,好。」

「然後呢?」

「她脫掉鞋襪,就在她的腳觸碰到水面那瞬間,她就被吸進去了。
之後小精靈就露出真面目和性格—祂們告訴她,她不可以離開,擰著她又推又拉地讓她游到湖底。」

「為甚麼她不把頭伸出湖面呼救?」

「那裡沒有其他人會聽見的。總之,當她游上來之後發現湖面像玻璃一樣堅硬。
她沒辦法上岸,她只能向下游,再也不能上來了。」

即使我在四歲時並不是個懷疑論者,但對於這件事我確實停下來想了一會兒。
「外婆。」我說,「「如果她沒有上岸,你怎麼會知道這個故事?」

外婆的臉色一沉:「祂們告訴我的。祂們喜歡告訴我很多事情。
好比祂們露西做了甚麼,或是他們對其他孩子做了甚麼。你知道祂們對露西做了甚麼嗎?」
講到這裡她幾乎是在吼叫。
我向後靠,在靠背椅可容許的範圍內盡量離她遠一點。如果我的腳可以碰到地板的話我大概會直接跑走
我讓自己陷入椅子的靠背,搖搖頭。

「祂們給她食物。」她說,瞪著我彷彿這一切都是我的錯,「她哭喊著拒絕,所以祂們就強迫灌食,她吞下食物的時候,就凍結了。」
外婆頓了頓,顯然是在等我做出反應。但我正努力要在最短的時間內遠離她,幾秒後她又不管不顧地繼續講下去。

「對,結凍了。她的心臟不再跳動,她的眼睛不能再看到事物,她的肺停止呼吸,她的耳朵再也聽不見聲音。」
「妳的意思是她死了嗎?」我囁嚅。

「不。」她說,好像又平靜下來了,聲音回復到正常音量,「沒死。身體機能雖然停止了,但大腦還在思考。
她還在湖底下,祂們是這樣告訴我的,就像新鮮的雛菊未曾凋零。
這些年她的頭髮仍然持去生長,祂們是這樣告訴我的,她的指甲也是。她的意識還醒著,她還想活著!」
外婆的聲音又開始變大聲,說出的每個音節都更加激動。
「她想活著!她還想活著!但他們不!讓!她!走!」
最後四個字幾乎是尖叫出來的。這害我直接哭出來,媽媽慌張的跑了進來。
她抱起我,安撫了一陣並帶我離開房間,遠離在椅子上像動物一樣扭動叫囂的外婆。

自此之後,我只有偶爾會被帶去看看外婆(即便我媽每個禮拜都會去看她)而我再也沒跟她獨處過。

在那件事情之後一陣子,直到我九歲左右,每個晚上我都不斷做著有著驚人美貌的孩子變形成有恐怖粗糙皮膚的怪物,並且試圖把我拽進湖裡的夢。
在夢裡,外婆故事裡如果你不同意,小精靈沒辦法把你帶去別的地方這件事是錯的,祂們拖我下水直到我只剩下頭在水面以上。
然後我就會醒來,經常發現全身溼透,而我總會陷入幾秒鐘的絕望,認為那真的是湖水。

但我長大了之後,那段故事對我的影響力開始減弱。我不再半夜間尖叫著醒來—我已經九歲了,不會再被愚蠢的童話故事嚇到。
事實上,我開始跟別人講這個故事。在遊樂場、睡覺前、隔宿露營的營火晚會上—我為此而變得眾所周知。
人們會求我講「有小精靈的恐怖故事」。如果他們不相信的話,隨時都可以來我家看看那張放在壁爐上褪色照片裡,藍色眼睛褐色馬尾的可愛女孩。

直到有一天這些「觀光客」被媽媽抓到後,我才終於聽到露西阿姨的真實故事。

她在我和一群朋友一邊傳閱這張照片一邊講故事的時候走了進來。在我看到她的時候,話到嘴邊停了下來—
即使我已經不相信外婆的唬爛故事,我卻知道媽媽的姊姊的確發生了些甚麼,而且大概不是甚麼好事。

媽媽把我所有朋友趕出去。我記得當時我想跟著他們溜出去,但我也知道自己絕對跑不掉。
他們都走了之後媽媽要我在她旁邊的沙發坐下,我已經準備好接下來可能會面對的碎碎念和/或禁足。
但取而代之的是,她開始告訴我發生在露西阿姨身上的真實故事。

外公(在我來得及見過他之前就過世了)和外婆住在村子最後面鄰近森林的茅屋裡。
在1960年代,只要孩子不要踩進別人的花圃,並且在天黑之前回來,讓他們到處遊蕩其實是稀鬆平常的事情。
村里大多數孩子都會去草地踢足球或是在馬路上奔跑,穿越別人家的樹籬穿梭在各家各戶的後院間。
偶爾,也會去森林裡玩。

於是有一天,露西阿姨沒有回家。
起初外公外婆只覺得很生氣,媽媽被派去村裡找她並告訴她回家後會有甚麼處罰。
但她不在村裡,幾個小時後,憤怒轉為擔憂,外公於是帶著手電筒去森林裡找人。

他哭著回來了,手裡緊抓著一雙前幾個禮拜在城裡幫露西買的亮紅色娃娃鞋—
媽媽還記得她超忌妒的,忌妒到在那之後的幾個禮拜穿著那雙鞋出去都覺得內疚,覺得自已跟她姐姐的死有關。
鞋子是在湖邊和一雙白色棉襪一起找到的。
很顯然發生了什麼事,露西可能是去湖裡踢踢水,或只是想泡腳,結果滑倒溺水了。
大家都說(他們大概忘了我媽當時也在房間裡),也許過一陣子她就會浮上來了。

但她沒有。

她就待在下面——「也許她是被水草或甚麼其他的東西纏住了」媽媽說——過一小段時間
後外婆就開始說她是被小精靈抓走了。
還跟外公說她可以聽見小精靈們在跟她說話。

在這之後我就沒跟別人說故事了,許多年後,我才又開始對這件事情重新燃起興趣。
在我瘋狂google之後,找到有報導她的死亡的報紙。
《在地女孩溺斃》是報導標題,下面的圖片就是那張放在媽媽壁爐上的照片。

村子的名字也有寫在上面,我考慮著要不要去那邊到處看看。但沒幾秒我就否決的自己—
—我一直都有點神經質,但我有我的底線。
開好幾公里的車道一個鳥不生蛋的地方就為了一個女孩的死亡故事顯然觸犯到這個底線了

不管怎樣,這個想法不斷啃食我的思緒,在我腦海深處蠢蠢欲動。
我發現自己順手地,出於好奇心地,打開google地圖那個村落實際上距離這裡多遠,並在
我的導航輸入了郵遞區號。
「只是想看看行車時間是不是跟google地圖一致而已啦。」

一個禮拜後我終於放棄掙扎,我在周末開車去了那個村落。
「只是想對家族歷史有更多了解而已啦。」我這不是在騙自己,不算是。

那座森林比我想像得小,媽說得好像很大很深,讓你不能透過樹與樹之間的縫隙一眼看穿
似的——像是你會在格林童話裡找到的那種森林。
實際上看起來還不錯,金黃的陽光灑落,在葉片間隙裡自由穿梭。
走在裡面時,我想會不會是媽的想像力和童年創傷和這個森林有所連結,讓他記憶裡的森
林變得很巨大。
又或者它曾經真的很大,只是後來為了蓋更多房子所以把樹木砍掉。
因為它不大,我只花了大概十分鐘就走到森林中央的湖邊。

這比較像他們所描述的。
湖很寬廣,大概五公尺寬,也許還不夠稱之為湖,但也足夠讓人為他命名。
看起來裡面沒有任何其他東西——沒有鴨子在岸邊戲水、沒有小魚游在靠近水面的地方—
—而且湖水靜止不動,幽深黑暗。
你可以輕易想像一個孩子掉進這裡面並且再也沒有浮上來。
我幾乎可以想像自己看到一雙紅色的鞋和白色棉襪在岸邊等待主人,或聽見一點點微弱的
童稚笑聲……

我的耳朵有些刺痛。
我真可以聽見咯咯笑聲。

四下看看,有一張笑笑的小臉從樹後面冒出來。一個小男孩,最多就十歲,有著一頭刺眼
的金黃色捲髮和可愛胖又呼呼的臉頰。
有個女孩在它旁邊,從樹枝間的縫隙害羞偷看。

「嗨。」她說。
「嗨。」我回答,又看了看四周,「你的家長在這附近嗎?」

他們兩個同時大笑出聲,好像我剛說了一個全世界最好笑的笑話。
女孩站出來,一頭絲絹四的黑髮如瀑流淌而下,完美襯托她如同精緻雕像的小臉,和迷死
人的顴骨。
「你在做甚麼?」她問。
「只是在散步。」我告訴她,心想著〝一切都始於我阿姨被小精靈拐走了〞應該不是個好
的對話開頭。
她點點頭,和小男孩一起離開樹旁邊走到我身側,站在有些泥濘的岸邊。

「這看起來很深。」男孩說,好像在告訴我一個很重大的祕密似的,「下面有具骨骸。」
我震驚的看著他,「你說甚麼?」
「下面有具骨骸。」女孩說,「它有一天浮上來了,我們還沒跟大人們說。」
她用一隻手牽著我,另一隻手指向湖面,「就在那裡。」

〝那裡〞是一小塊被周邊樹木低垂的枝條擋住的湖面。
「在水裡。」她說,「如果你游過去的話就可以看到。」
男孩踩進水裡好像是要為我示範——水只淹到他的腳踝,而我在這時才意識到他赤著腳。
女孩也把腳踏進水裡,並把原本穿在她腳上的小巧拖鞋給脫掉。
「來吧阿姨。(註一)」男孩急切地說著,「我們還沒告訴過別人,妳可是第一個!拜託
!」
「求求你!」女孩應聲,「拜託一起去看嘛!只要幾分鐘而已——拜託!」
我幾乎不經思索就點頭了。我當然要去看那具小孩子的骨骸,反正只要幾分鐘嘛。

我彎下腰脫掉我的鞋子,這個動作,就是這個動作,救了我一命。
當我的視線來到和小女孩身高一樣的高度時,我看見那張美麗的小臉上,有一對那樣的眼
睛。
那雙眼睛是亮麗的紅色,就像灼燒的煤炭,就在我看著這對眼睛的同時,眼窩四周的皮膚
似乎開始便的粗糙如同樹皮,完全被蘚苔及地衣覆蓋。

握在我手上的力道加重了,他們開始嘗試把我扯進水裡。
幸運的,我想他們低估了我的力氣——上一個被他們如此對待的畢竟是個自願下水的八歲
的小女孩。
倒頭來,我已經是個成年人了,而且完全被嚇到,把他們甩掉並不會花我太多時間跟力氣

我在湖邊醒來,全身被水浸濕,而且我要很高興的說那是湖水。
有個男人站在我上方,顯然他是在遛狗的時候聽到我的尖叫聲。
人們說我只是被嚇傻了,也許順著他們的說法會比較方便,也不用解釋太多。

不,我並不是真的相信自己看到小精靈——我只是滑倒掉進湖裡。
在我游到岸邊之前可能在水裡掙扎了一下並大聲呼救,接著我昏死過去並做了一個莫名其
妙的夢直到那個好心男子找到我。
因為被夢境嚇到導致這件事情從我的記憶裡被抹去了。

我告訴他們他們想聽到的,然後他們就沒再繼續煩我。
誰知道呢?也與他們才是對的,也許一切只是一場超真實的夢,我很樂意自己接受這個想
法。

只有一件事讓我沒辦法同意他們的說法並遺忘這整件事情的經過。
當小精靈們要把我拖下水的時候,或說當我夢到小精靈們要把我拽進湖裡的時候,有一瞬
間,就一瞬間,我發誓湖水變得清澈透明。

我突然可以直接看見湖底,我認為湖裡甚麼都沒有的想法是對的——我依然沒看見甚麼魚
或螃蟹之類的東西。
也沒有水草,就只有一些光滑的鵝卵石覆蓋整個湖底。如果沒有那個女孩,整個空間都會
是空的。

她就站在下面,她的雙腳掙扎蹬著小石子,她的雙手無助地伸向陽光。
她穿著打方格的棉布裙,在她腳邊隨著拍打岸邊的水波節奏晃動搖擺。
她長長的指甲繞著伸長的雙手螺旋狀生長,長髮飄在她臉龐飄盪,像獅子的鬃毛。
她的臉,即使因為恐懼而猙獰扭曲,卻還是可以輕易辨認,就是那張被我和朋友肥肥短短
的手間傳閱的,那張照片裡的臉。

在我掙脫奇怪小朋友,湖水又變得混濁不堪前,那瞬間,我發誓我看見了。
她的眼睛,動了。

註一:原文 “Come on miss”,譯為來吧女士,但感覺阿姨比較像小朋友會用來稱呼大
齡女子的方式。

一個人在湖底五十年感覺好寂寞喔QQ

Nosleep上還有一篇「如果你的聲音沒有回音,就取消你的旅程」
如果沒人貼的話這幾天再找個時間來翻個~

  1. 2018:  斐讯K3路由器:开放远程KMS激活Windows10/8/8.1/7/office(4)

原文标题:My aunt Lucy
原文网址:https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/63hggm/my_aunt_lucy/

繁体版:https://www.ptt.cc/bbs/marvel/M.1491452908.A.CCE.html

最近好像很多Reddit的翻译XD
希望大家喜欢这篇

我的阿姨,露西,八岁。
至少我总是这样去想像她的样貌—她是我妈妈的姊姊,如果她还活着的话,现在应该五十几岁了。

「她被小精灵拐走了。」外婆这么告诉我,「祂们在森林里跟她玩—祂们长得很丑,真的,丑得很骇人。
丑到如果你不小心看到他们,会被吓到尖叫着逃跑。但祂们可以变换样貌,祂们会把自己伪装成毛茛,
把露水滴在祂的眼睛里,扰乱她的视觉。这样在她眼中祂们就会是漂亮的孩子。 」

「漂亮的孩子?」我倒抽一口气,那时我大概四岁,「但是在现实里祂们还是丑陋的小精灵?」

「对,祂们有锯齿状的利牙,树皮一样粗糙的皮肤被藓苔和地衣覆盖—只有祂们的眼睛会维持原样。
那双眼睛是透亮的红色,像是烧红的煤炭,所以祂们从来不会正视她的脸。
祂们邀请她一起去一个派对,祂们说只是在湖的彼岸,湖也没有想像中那么深。
祂们把幽深的湖水变得宛如水晶一般清澈透明。 」

「然后发生了什么事?」

「祂们牵着她的手,求她让祂们带她去—祂们可以带你去任何地方。祂们可以,但如果你不愿意就办不到—
所以祂们不断求啊、求啊,最后她终于说,好。 」

「然后呢?」

「她脱掉鞋袜,就在她的脚触碰到水面那瞬间,她就被吸进去了。
之后小精灵就露出真面目和性格—祂们告诉她,她不可以离开,拧着她又推又拉地让她游到湖底。 」

「为什么她不把头伸出湖面呼救?」

「那里没有其他人会听见的。总之,当她游上来之后发现湖面像玻璃一样坚硬。
她没办法上岸,她只能向下游,再也不能上来了。 」

即使我在四岁时并不是个怀疑论者,但对于这件事我确实停下来想了一会儿。
「外婆。」我说,「「如果她没有上岸,你怎么会知道这个故事?」

外婆的脸色一沉:「祂们告诉我的。祂们喜欢告诉我很多事情。
好比祂们露西做了什么,或是他们对其他孩子做了什么。你知道祂们对露西做了什么吗? 」
讲到这里她几乎是在吼叫。
我向后靠,在靠背椅可容许的范围内尽量离她远一点。如果我的脚可以碰到地板的话我大概会直接跑走
我让自己陷入椅子的靠背,摇摇头。

「祂们给她食物。」她说,瞪着我仿佛这一切都是我的错,「她哭喊着拒绝,所以祂们就强迫灌食,她吞下食物的时候,就冻结了。」
外婆顿了顿,显然是在等我做出反应。但我正努力要在最短的时间内远离她,几秒后她又不管不顾地继续讲下去。

「对,结冻了。她的心脏不再跳动,她的眼睛不能再看到事物,她的肺停止呼吸,她的耳朵再也听不见声音。」
「妳的意思是她死了吗?」我嗫嚅。

「不。」她说,好像又平静下来了,声音回复到正常音量,「没死。身体机能虽然停止了,但大脑还在思考。
她还在湖底下,祂们是这样告诉我的,就像新鲜的雏菊未曾凋零。
这些年她的头发仍然持去生长,祂们是这样告诉我的,她的指甲也是。她的意识还醒着,她还想活着! 」
外婆的声音又开始变大声,说出的每个音节都更加激动。
「她想活着!她还想活着!但他们不!让!她!走!」
最后四个字几乎是尖叫出来的。这害我直接哭出来,妈妈慌张的跑了进来。
她抱起我,安抚了一阵并带我离开房间,远离在椅子上像动物一样扭动叫嚣的外婆。

自此之后,我只有偶尔会被带去看看外婆(即便我妈每个礼拜都会去看她)而我再也没跟她独处过。

在那件事情之后一阵子,直到我九岁左右,每个晚上我都不断做着有着惊人美貌的孩子变形成有恐怖粗糙皮肤的怪物,并且试图把我拽进湖里的梦。
在梦里,外婆故事里如果你不同意,小精灵没办法把你带去别的地方这件事是错的,祂们拖我下水直到我只剩下头在水面以上。
然后我就会醒来,经常发现全身湿透,而我总会陷入几秒钟的绝望,认为那真的是湖水。

但我长大了之后,那段故事对我的影响力开始减弱。我不再半夜间尖叫着醒来—我已经九岁了,不会再被愚蠢的童话故事吓到。
事实上,我开始跟别人讲这个故事。在游乐场、睡觉前、隔宿露营的营火晚会上—我为此而变得众所周知。
人们会求我讲「有小精灵的恐怖故事」。如果他们不相信的话,随时都可以来我家看看那张放在壁炉上褪色照片里,蓝色眼睛褐色马尾的可爱女孩。

直到有一天这些「观光客」被妈妈抓到后,我才终于听到露西阿姨的真实故事。

她在我和一群朋友一边传阅这张照片一边讲故事的时候走了进来。在我看到她的时候,话到嘴边停了下来—
即使我已经不相信外婆的唬烂故事,我却知道妈妈的姊姊的确发生了些什么,而且大概不是什么好事。

妈妈把我所有朋友赶出去。我记得当时我想跟着他们溜出去,但我也知道自己绝对跑不掉。
他们都走了之后妈妈要我在她旁边的沙发坐下,我已经准备好接下来可能会面对的碎碎念和/或禁足。
但取而代之的是,她开始告诉我发生在露西阿姨身上的真实故事。

外公(在我来得及见过他之前就过世了)和外婆住在村子最后面邻近森林的茅屋里。
在1960年代,只要孩子不要踩进别人的花圃,并且在天黑之前回来,让他们到处游荡其实是稀松平常的事情。
村里大多数孩子都会去草地踢足球或是在马路上奔跑,穿越别人家的树篱穿梭在各家各户的后院间。
偶尔,也会去森林里玩。

于是有一天,露西阿姨没有回家。
起初外公外婆只觉得很生气,妈妈被派去村里找她并告诉她回家后会有什么处罚。
但她不在村里,几个小时后,愤怒转为担忧,外公于是带着手电筒去森林里找人。

他哭着回来了,手里紧抓着一双前几个礼拜在城里帮露西买的亮红色娃娃鞋—
妈妈还记得她超忌妒的,忌妒到在那之后的几个礼拜穿着那双鞋出去都觉得内疚,觉得自已跟她姐姐的死有关。
鞋子是在湖边和一双白色棉袜一起找到的。
很显然发生了什么事,露西可能是去湖里踢踢水,或只是想泡脚,结果滑倒溺水了。
大家都说(他们大概忘了我妈当时也在房间里),也许过一阵子她就会浮上来了。

但她没有。

她就待在下面——「也许她是被水草或什么其他的东西缠住了」妈妈说——过一小段时间
后外婆就开始说她是被小精灵抓走了。
还跟外公说她可以听见小精灵们在跟她说话。

在这之后我就没跟别人说故事了,许多年后,我才又开始对这件事情重新燃起兴趣。
在我疯狂google之后,找到有报导她的死亡的报纸。
《在地女孩溺毙》是报导标题,下面的图片就是那张放在妈妈壁炉上的照片。

村子的名字也有写在上面,我考虑着要不要去那边到处看看。但没几秒我就否决的自己—
—我一直都有点神经质,但我有我的底线。
开好几公里的车道一个鸟不生蛋的地方就为了一个女孩的死亡故事显然触犯到这个底线了

不管怎样,这个想法不断啃食我的思绪,在我脑海深处蠢蠢欲动。
我发现自己顺手地,出于好奇心地,打开google地图那个村落实际上距离这里多远,并在
我的导航输入了邮递区号。
「只是想看看行车时间是不是跟google地图一致而已啦。」

一个礼拜后我终于放弃挣扎,我在周末开车去了那个村落。
「只是想对家族历史有更多了解而已啦。」我这不是在骗自己,不算是。

那座森林比我想像得小,妈说得好像很大很深,让你不能透过树与树之间的缝隙一眼看穿
似的——像是你会在格林童话里找到的那​​种森林。
实际上看起来还不错,金黄的阳光洒落,在叶片间隙里自由穿梭。
走在里面时,我想会不会是妈的想像力和童年创伤和这个森林有所连结,让他记忆里的森
林变得很巨大。
又或者它曾经真的很大,只是后来为了盖更多房子所以把树木砍掉。
因为它不大,我只花了大概十分钟就走到森林中央的湖边。

这比较像他们所描述的。
湖很宽广,大概五公尺宽,也许还不够称之为湖,但也足够让人为他命名。
看起来里面没有任何其他东西——没有鸭子在岸边戏水、没有小鱼游在靠近水面的地方—
—而且湖水静止不动,幽深黑暗。
你可以轻易想像一个孩子掉进这里面并且再也没有浮上来。
我几乎可以想像自己看到一双红色的鞋和白色棉袜在岸边等待主人,或听见一点点微弱的
童稚笑声……

我的耳朵有些刺痛。
我真可以听见咯咯笑声。

四下看看,有一张笑笑的小脸从树后面冒出来。一个小男孩,最多就十岁,有着一头刺眼
的金黄色卷发和可爱胖又呼呼的脸颊。
有个女孩在它旁边,从树枝间的缝隙害羞偷看。

「嗨。」她说。
「嗨。」我回答,又看了看四周,「你的家长在这附近吗?」

他们两个同时大笑出声,好像我刚说了一个全世界最好笑的笑话。
女孩站出来,一头丝绢四的黑发如瀑流淌而下,完美衬托她如同精致雕像的小脸,和迷死
人的颧骨。
「你在做什么?」她问。
「只是在散步。」我告诉她,心想着〝一切都始于我阿姨被小精灵拐走了〞应该不是个好
的对话开头。
她点点头,和小男孩一起离开树旁边走到我身侧,站在有些泥泞的岸边。

「这看起来很深。」男孩说,好像在告诉我一个很重大的秘密似的,「下面有具骨骸。」
我震惊的看着他,「你说什么?」
「下面有具骨骸。」女孩说,「它有一天浮上来了,我们还没跟大人们说。」
她用一只手牵着我,另一只手指向湖面,「就在那里。」

〝那里〞是一小块被周边树木低垂的枝条挡住的湖面。
「在水里。」她说,「如果你游过去的话就可以看到。」
男孩踩进水里好像是要为我示范——水只淹到他的脚踝,而我在这时才意识到他赤着脚。
女孩也把脚踏进水里,并把原本穿在她脚上的小巧拖鞋给脱掉。
「来吧阿姨。(注一)」男孩急切地说着,「我们还没告诉过别人,妳可是第一个!拜托
! 」
「求求你!」女孩应声,​​「拜托一起去看嘛!只要几分钟而已——拜托!」
我几乎不经思索就点头了。我当然要去看那具小孩子的骨骸,反正只要几分钟嘛。

我弯下腰脱掉我的鞋子,这个动作,就是这个动作,救了我一命。
当我的视线来到和小女孩身高一样的高度时,我看见那张美丽的小脸上,有一对那样的眼
睛。
那双眼睛是亮丽的红色,就像灼烧的煤炭,就在我看着这对眼睛的同时,眼窝四周的皮肤
似乎开始便的粗糙如同树皮,完全被藓苔及地衣覆盖。

握在我手上的力道加重了,他们开始尝试把我扯进水里。
幸运的,我想他们低估了我的力气——上一个被他们如此对待的毕竟是个自愿下水的八岁
的小女孩。
倒头来,我已经是个成年人了,而且完全被吓到,把他们甩掉并不会花我太多时间跟力气

我在湖边醒来,全身被水浸湿,而且我要很高兴的说那是湖水。
有个男人站在我上方,显然他是在遛狗的时候听到我的尖叫声。
人们说我只是被吓傻了,也许顺着他们的说法会比较方便,也不用解释太多。

不,我并不是真的相信自己看到小精灵——我只是滑倒掉进湖里。
在我游到岸边之前可能在水里挣扎了一下并大声呼救,接着我昏死过去并做了一个莫名其
妙的梦直到那个好心男子找到我。
因为被梦境吓到导致这件事情从我的记忆里被抹去了。

我告诉他们他们想听到的,然后他们就没再继续烦我。
谁知道呢?也与他们才是对的,也许一切只是一场超真实的梦,我很乐意自己接受这个想
法。

只有一件事让我没办法同意他们的说法并遗忘这整件事情的经过。
当小精灵们要把我拖下水的时候,或说当我梦到小精灵们要把我拽进湖里的时候,有一瞬
间,就一瞬间,我发誓湖水变得清澈透明。

我突然可以直接看见湖底,我认为湖里什么都没有的想法是对的——我依然没看见什么鱼
或螃蟹之类的东西。
也没有水草,就只有一些光滑的鹅卵石覆盖整个湖底。如果没有那个女孩,整个空间都会
是空的。

她就站在下面,她的双脚挣扎蹬着小石子,她的双手无助地伸向阳光。
她穿着打方格的棉布裙,在她脚边随着拍打岸边的水波节奏晃动摇摆。
她长长的指甲绕着伸长的双手螺旋状生长,长发飘在她脸庞飘荡,像狮子的鬃毛。
她的脸,即使因为恐惧而狰狞扭曲,却还是可以轻易辨认,就是那张被我和朋友肥肥短短
的手间传阅的,那张照片里的脸。

在我挣脱奇怪小朋友,湖水又变得混浊不堪前,那瞬间,我发誓我看见了。
她的眼睛,动了。

注一:原文 “Come on miss”,译为来吧女士,但感觉阿姨比较像小朋友会用来称呼大
龄女子的方式。

一个人在湖底五十年感觉好寂寞喔QQ

Nosleep上还有一篇「如果你的声音没有回音,就取消你的旅程」
如果没人贴的话这几天再找个时间来翻个~

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