Chapter 28 Short story landscape in ruins
"Inside these ruined walls, you can see your favorite scenery everywhere, even with your eyes closed." He gestured to me with a general circle around with his finger, "for example, this wall, we don't know what it is. We don't care about when it collapsed, but from this crack, we will find algae, algae."
He puts one of his protruding ears against the slit, a gesture I don't notice because he does it multiple times a day.
"Boom, boo, boo..." he said, "bubbles. This kind of swamp is very special, soft and elastic, people can come and go on it without sinking. Algae grow in the puddles over there Here, it’s really dense! I saw you sneering, which means you saw it too, and our eyesight is similar. Listen, boo, boo, boo... You can’t deny that the sound of this bubble is unique, right? You Standing up, what are you thinking? Do you think she will come?"
"Of course I will. Looking at the sun, I am getting older every day, and my clothes are too thin. If there is frost in the night, I really don't know what will happen. I have never experienced such a thing. "
I turned my gaze to the distant sun.Since we came to this place, the sun has become a grim, symbolic sphere.On the surface, the light is still dazzling, but we do not feel the slightest warmth when we bathe in it.We had to keep our body warm by wearing more clothes.At night, we cannot expose our body parts casually, because there is a danger of frostbite at any time. The gloves and masks we brought from home are used to prevent the cold at night.I counted the days, and a summer passed like this. It is said that winter can also be passed. Who said so?It doesn't matter.
He is always so excited, talking about all kinds of scenery, although I can see what he sees, but he talks too much, talking about these monotonous topics day after day, month after month, sometimes it makes me feel I can't help asking him whimsically: "Can I talk about something else?" I asked him twice.When I asked him, he lowered his head and pretended not to hear, and he didn't speak for a long time, so I understood.
For me now, those algae and swamps are just floating landscapes.They once conquered my heart with their bright, changing colors, but that was a long time ago.The main problem at the moment is the cold, all the clothes I brought are in and winter is not here yet.
He didn't think about it. He also heard that winter can be passed, and he seemed to believe it.I resented him a little for his indiscretions in brushing aside this important issue, and I sometimes made it out that I had frostbitten my toes.
"And winter hasn't come yet!" He said in surprise, and he seemed to forget it immediately after he finished speaking. I really don't know where his self-confidence comes from.
Most of the time, I am staring at the sun, because the sun is out here every day, as long as I raise my head, I can see the dazzling mass.
Back then, he and I came here with a common interest in ruined walls. We arrived in the morning and returned at night. As the days went by, both of us felt that it was cumbersome, so we simply stayed here at night. I feel very relieved.He was still the same as when he first came, day and night he pressed his protruding ears against the cracks in the wall, muttering words in his mouth.Whenever I heard his voice, I saw the scenery he described, so I often chatted some gossip, my topic was always the same, and my words were dry, much more boring than his, very boring. Use less adjectives.
In the midst of boredom, we talked about "she".She's the laziest old woman we've ever known, we've known her since we were kids, but we've never spoken to her.She always slept in the room during the day, and sometimes there was no movement in the room for more than ten hours.She occasionally goes out and never looks at people directly, as if walking with her eyes closed.Maybe she thinks it's too much effort to open her eyelids to see people, at least I think so.Once, as a test and just to be angry, I walked towards her to see if she collided with me, but she turned away steadily without raising her eyelids.
We talked about her after we had decided not to come home at night.Both of them felt for no reason that she would definitely pass by from here, and our goal in life may be to wait to see her pass by.When talking about her, I asked a question: "Which one do you think is older, she or the sun?" He said that of course the sun is older, but I insisted that she was the older one, and I argued for a long time.My reasoning is: Sun’s birthday is roughly verifiable, but she, I’ve asked countless people before, and no one can confirm when her birthday is, not even the grandpa of the oldest among us. Find out when her birthday is.
Later, he also agreed with my opinion and said: "So she must pass by from here, and the algae have begun to wither a little in the past few days. Will winter come? What will winter be like? So far , There have been no obvious changes in the swamp. The moss is really strange, it is always densely weaving, and my hallucinations are always full of them, and occasionally thinking about it makes me cry."
I don't remember how I got involved with someone like him.We both love to show off when we're at home.In summer, he paints his whole body dark green and moves quietly like a fish; I like to paint my whole body black and find an unnoticed corner to stand still.We weathered the long heat in our own ways.All of us know our eccentricity and call it "show off".Maybe after a long time, the two of us will have similar tastes.He often swam up to me like a fish, and then said: "There is a kind of mosquito that is very sentimental, and the thousand-year-old fertilizer in the swamp has nurtured them." So we started that kind of affectionate conversation.
We came here almost desperately.That day was very long, the sun in the distance did not set for a long time, it looked fresh and sad, and there was the sound of wheels rolling in the cloudless clear sky.In front of us, there was the sound of boiling water in a broken wall, and wisps of hot air came out.At the time he was decisive in calling it a "blister" and I took his word for it.That day, in the light of the setting sun that was finally setting, he vowed to me that one day, he would "pass through the wall", like an X-ray.He stood in the pile of broken bricks, repeatedly kicked his feet, waved his hands, and said those words, like a humanoid puppet.
Both he and I know that the passion between us is thinning out day by day, and now we pay less attention to each other than to our own affairs.But we were all waiting for that turning point - the old woman who never looked us in the eye.In the cold nights we took turns sleeping on duty, which had the advantage that the long nights were much shorter.As the weather turned colder, my worries slowly deepened.But he didn't feel what I was worried about. He just lived in the hot swamp and said those faint words.Indulging in anxious emotions, I became cautious.Sometimes the shadow of an eagle flitted across the sky and landed on the wall, and I was so frightened that I almost couldn't help screaming.Every day I say this: "What if there is frost tonight? What about the clothes?" There is another sentence I want to say every day: "The sun is getting older every day." Maybe because I resent its indifference .
Whatever enthusiasm once boiled in my chest is thinning day by day.The two of us stayed here for one small reason: a lack of foresight.We came here too hastily.Now we say we have to wait for that old woman, anyone with a discerning eye will know what's going on.He and I used to act in a hurry, what people called "the ghosts".For example, when I came here this time, he just vaguely said "Go to another place for a stroll", so I became impulsive and ran here with him in a hurry.It would be an exaggeration to say that enthusiasm has kept me here.I said that enthusiasm is getting thinner day by day, because all objects of impulse no longer exist.
Recently, due to staring at the dazzling sphere for too long, I feel that my eyeballs are gradually hardening. For convenience, I simply regarded myself as a plaster cast.My movements are stiff and slow now, and it's been a long time since I've bent over, turned my neck or rolled my eyes.He watched my change, smiled, and continued with his own game.He became more and more weird. Once, he actually stuffed his head into a crack in the wall, but he couldn't pull it out, so he had to stick it on the side of the wall like a crooked nail.Then I pulled him out so hard that his face was covered in blood.He smiled and pointed to the blood on his face and said, "It won't turn into an X-ray for a while, it would be nice to turn into a balloon. When I was there, beautiful flies kept buzzing in my ears, and the flies' wings were like rainbows." .Actually, we haven't seen a real rainbow for a long time. The constant hot sun and clear sky are always disappointing. Believe it or not, the wings of flies are far more dazzling than the rainbows we have seen before And the tiny black mosquitoes made me cry with their calls. A person like me, who has lived for many years, still can't stop the urge to drill into the wall. You can imagine the temptation. "
One day, because of the cold and also because of fear, I suggested to him that we should work together to shout. In that case, our voices might spread to the outside world, and our situation here would be slightly changed.When we want to cry, we realize that we have forgotten how to shout. Our voice is floating and lacks strength, and it cannot be transmitted to the outside world at all.The result of this is just to make us more scared and colder.So we gave up trying. "Let's not go out of our way to try," he said. "Look at this wall. There are cobwebs of deep paths in it. I've known that for years. One more thing is that we must pretend to be in Waiting for her here is a reason to stay here. All attempts are still going on, but they are just a few general calls, not very serious. Just to remind you, I will ask you again: Are you still Waiting for her?"
"Of course, otherwise, what am I doing here? Just to stare at this old and dazzling thing all day long? Maybe no one will pass by this place in the future."
"I would like to think this way: One day, some people came, and this wall and these broken bricks were right in front of them, but they turned a blind eye and passed by talking and laughing. When I think this way, I have a taste of conceit. I need to think like that."
"As we hurried to get here, someone noticed."
"That's right, that person is watching our every move all the time, so the three of us will definitely meet here."
"Do you think we can survive the winter?"
"It is said that there is no problem. Besides, there is no obvious seasonal change here. I don't think there will be any big ups and downs. Compared with when I first came here, it is just a little colder. From the perspective of the sun, there is no change. I Let me tell you a secret, in my swamp the seasons change according to my imagination."
I proposed to set a date for the old woman to pass by here, because the words "in the distant future" always give people an unlucky feeling.I set the date as a month, and he looked at me, nodding sadly.He's not the dark green guy I remember now.His beard was long and his clothes were in tatters.I mentioned to him the past of putting paint on my body, and he smiled, obviously not taking that matter to heart.
"You'll forget your rules in less than a month," he murmured. "She's too lazy to go out now. It's a big, big decision for her to come here. I think She doesn't necessarily come by herself, but sends some kind of child, that child may run extremely fast, and is good at adapting to circumstances, and no one can predict his actions."
Even though we wear masks late at night, our hearts still palpitate every time we face each other.The surroundings were too quiet and cold, so that we had the illusion of each other, as if each other was hiding murderous intentions.This situation lasts for ten minutes every night.While this situation lasted, both he and I shuddered in the middle of the silence.Before the eyes of both of us, there appeared a "distant" scenery, which was indescribable, vague and unpredictable, as if a black rabbit was passing through the wall.
A month is approaching, he has completely forgotten about my rules, and I am still writing down the date every day.We both know it.It's one thing.So I brought up the matter of resetting the date. I want to set the date as a year.
"Okay." He agreed bluntly. "I think the child might be coming soon. It's quite possible that she woke up and sent a child to us on a whim."
Recently, the scenery we see has become relatively monotonous. It is always the same picture of the yellow sandy beach extending towards the sunset in the distance. shadow.He still poked his head into the wall, but rarely used words like "blister".Now he always complains of dizziness, because his body is empty, so he is not sure of his movements, and he may fall at any time.He said:
"I did the same thing when I was inside the walls. I kept tumbling down those cobweb-like paths, and as soon as I stopped, I saw a man sticking a big needle in my back and saying he was going to suck the fluid out of me. Light. It didn’t hurt much when the needle was inserted, but I got very dizzy afterward.”
"Everything will be arranged." I made a gesture like a plaster model, "Look at the sun, isn't it showing a more and more calm demeanor? I guess her sleep time is getting longer and longer, She is likely to arrange everything in her deep sleep, isn't that her character? We just need to stick to our habitual schedule as usual. For example, when you talk about dizziness, you have to get yourself used to living in dizziness, besides There is no other way. On the day you get used to it, algae will grow all over your head again, and your mouth will involuntarily make pop, pop, pop... sounds. My plaster-like heart, sometimes Impressed by the decrepit demeanor of the Skyrim thing. I predict we'll get used to it."
I can't remember when we stopped being on duty at night.We crouched motionless at the base of the wall like a boulder, staring in the dark, forgetting the long time and the physical pain caused by the cold.We've been awake and silent all night like this.
Time passes faster, we never stop for a moment to think about how it passed, in fact, we don't notice.He was still dizzy from time to time, but he seemed much calmer.The subject of the child, the old woman, still came up in our conversation, and we both knew what it meant.I started making up some extremely boring "stories" to tell him.I mentioned that in the autumn of a certain year, I planted a large piece of green vegetables on the hillside, and the green vegetables grew gratifyingly.I mentioned this incident for no other reason than to spit out words such as "autumn" and "vegetables" from my mouth. These words breathe life into my dry body.But that's all I said, and I didn't feel the long excitement.Another time I mentioned that there was a large puddle formed by accumulated rain at the door of the house. I moved large stones from a distance and put them in the puddle. Are those stones still there?All the past is almost forgotten, only these boring, nonsense "stories" can be remembered.He listened to my narration, rolling his eyes endlessly, inserting some insignificant adjectives into my sentences from time to time, and he did so with ease, like a skilled worker.
"One Sunday evening," I said, "it was raining heavily outside. I sat at my desk, took a pen casually, and drew a holly tree."
"Is it pouring rain?" he said.
Then I nodded.
"Three years ago today, the days were short and short, and it got dark before we had time to eat lunch." I added, "But I didn't realize it at the time, and I didn't know it had something to do with the sun until today."
"This is what time flies like an arrow!" He exclaimed in a superficial tone, "They used to say that I looked like a dragonfly, and when I was proud, I kept hovering over people's heads! My body was so light that even myself I can't believe it. I seem to be remembering, but is this something that happened before? I'll tell you the truth, these are some metaphors that came to mind on the spur of the moment, and now my life is like a metaphor within a metaphor, Or one metaphor is within another metaphor, and this other metaphor is hidden in a larger metaphor. As for the words I added before, it is just a habit."
One day at noon, we invented a game, which is to run around the broken wall.We ran and ran, and the tattered clothes flew up, and the matted hair flew up, like two ghosts.We saw each other's ghostly faces, screamed, and ran even faster.Later he told me that when we were running, he saw the child passing by. The child was carrying a small basket, poked his head in the hole in the wall over there, and then turned onto another path.
"We'd better not stare at each other while running, it's dangerous," he said, "just keep running. When I look at you for a second, I feel a chill in my bones, otherwise Besides, I'm terribly afraid. I know you're native, and I keep repeating it in my head, but it's no use. I feel like I'm in trouble. I think you feel the same, and we're not going to look at each other while we're running."
I agreed, but I still couldn't help but sneak a peek at him while running, the temptation was too strong.Once when I did this, I found a cruel expression on his face, like a blood-sucking black bat, chasing after me, I also felt that my neck was pecked, my whole body was numb, and I broke out in a cold sweat The child came out.There was a point to what he said, but I couldn't resist the temptation.
We stood there panting after the run, both of us with our heads down.I looked up, and suddenly I saw the sun from many years ago. It turns out that the sun is not old, it is always so calm.I told him what I thought, in a very dejected tone.
"It's always us who die first, always. Haven't you figured it out yet? But as long as we don't leave this place, we will slowly turn into stones, like those stones you put in the puddles. This one of yours The story is so beautiful. You came here to make up such a story, it seems to be destined. Your landscape is different, another landscape, it is like some shadows. But sometimes , they also overlap with those of my landscapes, and sometimes they peek out from a distance, and I feel dizzy just looking at them."
I am troubled by such a question all the time: Can our voice reach the outside world?
I finally said it out loud: "Anyone?!"
The field is quiet, and the indifferent sun shines on us.In the distance, where the eternal sphere is, my voice turns like a propeller and disappears in a moment.
I saw him drilling the wall, his head was flat and pointed, extremely flexible.I heard vague sound waves coming from the deep path, wave after wave, rising and falling.
He and I rushed here with a common interest in ruins, only relying on an old woman to maintain the slightest connection with the outside world.Today that connection is becoming more and more remote and unattainable.I still talked to him about the old woman because she was the only lead.He and I firmly grasped this end of the clue and wrapped it around our hands, but the other end often fell to the ground.We'll never know what's really going on on the other end of the thread, but we both know it.
1994.1.5, Moon Lake