2018-12-06 【Aiden in English】 A village sits in the mountains, deprived of food, fertile land, and the eyes of heaven. Water is a commodity; trees, are a rarity; and brief flashes of green only originate from an occasional sprout or small, slimy reptilian creatures.
Every year, a man comes to the village. He brings forth a flood of life. The village’s dry well fills with fresh water; the mountain streams surge with new-found vitality; the brittle shrubs shine with natural beauty. Trees bud in a matter of days, carrying wildlife and fruit with them.
From his possession of natural wonders, the villagers call him the Keeper. He walks with a cane, and it clanks on the ground like keys.
“Clink, clank. Clink, clank.”
He comes at night. His looks were a mystery. The men in the village lock their doors and keep their children safe that night of the year. “A man of that power must not be trusted,” the old chieftain says.
“Papa, he is so nice.” says the chief’s son, “He must have a good heart.”
His father kneels down and weakly smiles. “I wish that were true…” he grimly replies, “but no man can be all good and all-powerful.”
A faint clank can be heard in the distant darkness.
The chief’s smile falls from his face. He stands up, walks to the door, and slides a wooden boat across the thick surface.
A year passes. The green has once again faded to grey. The river has stopped flowing. Only a few drops remain at the bottom of the well. It’s been a week since the last deer was spotted. The night approaches. Villagers rush to their houses in hushed silence. A unified sound of heavy bolts slamming against their locks rings in the air. “Clink, clank.” “Clink, clank.”
The little boy holds his breath. He has experienced this night for many years now, but still fear grips his soul.
A brief pause hangs in the air. The chief tenses, awaiting the clanking of the cane to re-emerge. Nothing.
A soft clatter can be heard outside.
The chief is unnerved. This is unprecedented. The village does not like unprecedented things.
He whispers to his son to go to his room. He urges him to sleep.
Morning, a ring of villagers surrounds the center of town. They appear to be in a hushed converse. At the center of the ring lies a cane- a heavy, metallic pole with black runes inscribed onto the handle and down the length.
The atmosphere matches the scenery. Grey—grey rocks, barren land—is all that can be seen. No flush of green, a surge of the hunt, a burst of water. The well is still dry.
Days pass, and with nature, the villagers fade to grey as well. They grow sick, a disease only born from the death of the land. The elderly are the first to fade: they pass away like pebbles in a stream. Children, unfed and malnutrition, succumb to an unending sleep. Eventually, even the elderly chief passes away into the earth.
Angered, heart, torn into pieces, the chief’s son grabs the staff; something that no one has wanted to touch in fear of inciting whatever dark powers it may hold. At night, in possession of the cane, he walks out of the village in search of the Keeper. Once he found him, he would force the Keeper to bring back life to the village.
For as far as the eye can see, the land is nothing but piles of rock and dry, blackened dirt. Stumps of trees mark where the green once inhabited, and lines mark where waters once flowed.
He traverses mountains and valleys, finding a fiery strength within his rage. Not stopping for rest, and with no sustenance available, this boy surges onwards, letting his heart guide him into the bright sunset.
The sun leads him to the sea. A violent, turbulent sea, waters violently giving life and death in cycles.
A patch of green emerges. Not trees, but lichens. Small lichens, glistening on the black rock, pulsate in the sun. They glow in anticipation of the chief’s son. The cane vibrates, inscriptions emitting a faint glow.
An old man sits in the middle of the lichens, his legs crossed and eyes closed. He is bald, not a speck of hair can be seen on his head. He wears a worn robe, weathered and tattered. It hangs from his shoulders, draped over a thin frame beaten by time and nature.
The young man approaches the lichen man, carefully inching onto the lichens. Suddenly, his cane flies from his hand and lands next to the man. His eyes do not open.
“Are you the Keeper?” the young man timidly asks.
No response.
“Are you the Keeper?” he asks again, “Answer me!”
A sigh escapes the meditating man. “Keeper, that’s a new one.” Groaning, he rises to his legs, as if age had begun consuming his body. “What is your request?”
The young man replies, “Restore life to my village!”
The Keeper tilts his head in confusion. “Why should I?”
“Because you always do! People are dying and awaiting your help! You can save my family!” Tears glisten in the young new chief’s eyes.
Suddenly, a crunch from behind the young man could be heard. He turns around to find an old woman carrying a staff with black runes inscribed on the sides, identical to the one lying beside the Keeper.
“Please, O Savior, save my village. A disease plagues our crops, and drought plagues our people. Please, I beg, please save my world!”
The Keeper nods understandingly. He sighs. “O, how I wish I could help you both, I sincerely do.”
He looks towards the sea, “But time is a powerful force, and it has no prejudice. I am too old to help both of you.”
A weariness overtakes his body. He slouches to the ground, shaking. “I can only help one of you!” he yells over the waves. “Do what you must!”
The chief faces the woman. She is in tears. “No, no, please. Savior, we need you…”
Filled with rage brought forth from the fires of his soul, the young man reaches out to the old woman. She doesn’t run, a silent plea in her eyes. The cane drops from her hands, running ablaze.
The Keeper yells, “What life gives is not what without a cost!”
The young man reaches for the woman’s throat, and tears roll down his face like waterfalls.
“Life requires sacrifice, blood continues the cycle!”
A wave crashes against the charred rocks. He squeezes, and a sorrowful cry emits from his lungs.
“Giving life has taken enough from me…”
The young man feels the pulsing ebb out from the woman. Like his village, like his father, she succumbs to greyness.
“... now let it take something from you.”
The young man sobs. Tears stream down his face.
The old man rises and picks up both canes. He painfully smiles at the young chief, a tear appearing in his eye.
Swiftly, he grips both staffs, slamming them together into the ground. A bright flash of light appears, and the pair are once again back in the village. He slams the staff again, bursting forth a wave of green vitality through the village and its surroundings. The villagers rush out of their homes, staring in awe at the newfound life flourishing around them.
The young man collapses in tears.
【红霞译文】
荒山野岭远离尘世的地方坐落着一个村庄，在那里水成了稀罕物品，树木也极其少见，偶而从嫩苞芽或小爬虫身上才见点绿光。
每年有位男子都来村子，他的出现为当地带来勃勃生机，枯井积满清水，溪流从山涧奔涌而下，翠碧的灌木丛给大自然披挂上美丽新装，没有几天工夫，树枝纷纷吐露幼芽，竞相开花结实争妍斗艳。 正因为这些奇观异景，村民们称他为“守护使者”。他拄着拐杖四处走动，身后发出钥匙般清脆的响声。
“叮当，叮咚；叮当，叮咚。”
他夜间出动，长相成谜。每逢这个晚上，村里当家的全都把各自门锁好并看住孩子。“有那能耐的家伙都不可靠，”老村长告诫。 “爸爸，他人不错，”村长儿子说道：“肯定心地善良。”
孩子的父亲蹲了下来咧了咧嘴巴，“但愿如此……”他冷淡地回答：“不过再好的人也不会无所不能。” 从远处黑暗的地方隐约传来叮咚声。 村长面带笑容，站起来朝门口走去，把门闩紧紧插牢。
一年即逝，绿色再度褪变成灰色，河床干涸，唯有井底依旧残留几滴水珠，自从上只鹿来过后足有一个星期之久。 夜幕降临，村民们匆匆赶回家中，身后不约而同响起闩门声。 “叮当，叮咚。” “叮当，叮咚。”
小伙子屏住呼吸，虽说早已经历过许多次类似场面，但此时此刻依旧难掩内心紧张之情。 周围忽然安静下来，村长惴惴不安，正等待拐杖声再度出现，哪知一点动静没有。 外面传来轻轻拍打声。 村长情绪低落，这可是破天荒头一遭，村里没人喜欢从未发生过的事情。 村长低声劝儿子回屋，要他赶紧睡觉。
清早，一帮村民围在村公所，好像嘀咕什么，人群中央放着拐棍──一根沉甸甸的金属棒，手柄及其下侧刻有黑符。
现场气氛跟周围景致遥相呼应， 灰蒙蒙的天──光秃秃的地──眼前所能看到的无外乎这些东西，既没有茂密的森林，也没有多余的猎物，更没有富足的水源，连水井都干巴巴的。
没过几天，街坊邻里逐渐变得无精打采，开始感觉不舒服，患上一种穷山僻壤特有的疾病， 老人首当其冲：他们与世长辞，宛若被溪流卷走的石子；孩童长眠不醒，皆因饥饿难捱营养匮乏。黄泉路上无老少，上了年纪的村长最终魂归故里。
哀戚之情油然而生，村长儿子抓住拐杖，要知道人们因为害怕沾上晦气连碰都不想碰它一下。夜晚，小伙子手握拐杖到处寻找”护城使者”， 一旦如愿以偿便会想方设法劝他拯救父老乡亲。
抬眼望去，全村内外贫瘠荒芜寸草不生，一片碎石烂泥，树墩上昔日发芽的地方依稀可辨，年轮间以往水蚀的痕迹历历在目。
他翻山越岭，将满腔热血化为实际行动，顾不上休息吃饭，从拂晓一直走到夕阳西下。 他跟着太阳来到大海，汹涌澎湃的浪涛周而复始，让生与死永恒循环。
眼前呈现一片绿色， 没有绿树成林，唯见地衣点缀，随着光线移动，小小地衣在黑色岩石上闪闪发光，村长儿子由此心生希望，这时拐杖震颤不止，上面的铭文泛起微光。
一位老大爷正坐在地衣中间，两腿交叉，双目紧闭，脑袋瓜光秃秃，没有一丝头发，身上穿着又破又烂的披肩，披肩搭在膀子上，正好遮住枯瘦如柴的身子。
小伙子走近地衣佬，谨慎地踏上地衣。 突然，拐杖离手飞去，径直落到老大爷旁边，他眼睛并未睁开。 “你是‘护城使者’吗？”小伙子怯声问道。 没有回应。 “你是‘护城使者’吗？”他再次问道，“回答我！”
打坐者叹了口气。“护城使者”，那是新玩意。”他边嘀咕边站了起来： “你要干什么？” 小伙子回答说：“帮我家乡恢复元气！” “护城使者”歪着脑袋，满脸充满困惑： “为啥找我呢？”
“因为您一直在做嘛！ 乡亲们奄奄一息，亟待你出面帮忙！ 你能救活我的亲人！” 新任年轻村长眼含热泪。
说时迟那时快，小伙子背后传来吱嘎一声。 他转过身去发现一位老大娘手捧两边刻有黑符的拐杖，与”护城使者”身边那个相同。
“救命恩人啊，请您救救我的村庄。 疾病危害庄稼，干旱折磨百姓。 拜托，我恳求您，请救救我的家园！”
“护城使者”点头表示理解。 他叹了口气： “哦，我多么希望能帮助二位，真的。”
他转向大海，“但时间是主导力量，毫无任何倾向性可言。 我老了，实在力不从心。”
他整个人处于消沉状态，懒散地躺在地上，浑身发抖。 “我只能帮助你们中的一个！”他冲着海浪大吼： “要当机立断！”
村长看着老大娘，她泪流满面。 “不，请不要这样。救命恩人，我们需要您...... ”
一股莫名的冲动涌上心头，小伙子把手伸向老大娘。 她没闪开，眼神中流露出无声的恳求。 拐杖从她的手中滑落，符文着起火来。 “护城使者”吼叫起来，“生命不是没有代价的！” 泪水像瀑布一样夺眶而出，小伙子抓住老大娘的脖子。 “生命需要牺牲，血脉代代相传！” 波浪撞击烧焦的岩石。 他捏了捏，哭得撕心裂肺。 “我已经付出很多......”
小伙子觉察到老大娘脉搏变弱， 就像家乡还有自己父亲临终前那样，她撒手人寰。 “......现在赶紧办你的事情。” 小伙子泪如泉涌，哀恸不已。 老大爷起身，拿起两根拐杖，冲着年轻村长苦笑了一下，泪水打湿了眼眶。
他迅速抓住两根拐杖使劲摔到地上， 闪电般的亮光划破长空，两人凯旋而归。 他再一次扔出拐杖，村子大地回春，乡亲们冲出家门，对眼前欣欣向荣的场景无不惊喜万分。 小伙子热泪纵横。 Today in History(历史上的今天): 2014: Soccer Ice Cream Party(足球冰淇凌聚会) 
Pennbrook Small Ensembles' Night (宾溪初中小型乐队音乐晚会 05-31-2018) 
NPHS Swimming Pool (北宾州高中游泳池) Crosslinks(相关博文): 9th Grade Flash Story─Splash in a River(小小说─玉花飞溅) 9th Grade Short Story─Reunion(高一短篇小说─相逢) 8th Grade Flash Story─My Glory to Your Honor(初三小小说─为你骄傲) 8th Grade Flash Story─Sleep is Bliss(初三小小说─能睡是福) 6th Grade Flash Story─Crisis on Mulberry Street(初一小小说─桑树街危机) 3rd Grade Flash Story─Halloween(三年级小小说─万圣节) 10th Grade(高中二年级) |
