【纽约客 20151027】最恐怖的故事

满仓

【中文标题】最恐怖的故事
【原文标题】The Scariest Story Ever Told
【登载媒体】纽约客
【原文作者】Colin Nissan
【原文链接】http://www.newyorker.com/humor/daily-shouts/the-scariest-story-ever-told?intcid=mod-most-popular




一条安静的道路尽头，在一棵扭曲的黑橡树之后，有一所房子。一个女人住在里面。在一个异常寒冷的夜晚，她坐在火炉边看书，直到她感到昏昏欲睡。但是在这个晚上，当她的眼皮越来越沉，突然听到了一阵声音，这并不是她所熟悉的那种声音。她想，这么晚，谁会来电话？她从椅子上站起来，拿起电话。

“喂？”

“我要杀了你。”一个男人用低沉的嗓音说。

“你是谁？”她问。

没有回答。

“你是谁？”她又问，她的手有些颤抖。

咔嗒一声，电话里一片寂静。她立即拨通了报警电话，向警察讲述了刚才发生的事。接电话的警官让她稍等，并开始追踪那通电话。几分钟之后，他说：“这个电话是来自……你的房子里。”

“这不可能，”她说，“我的房子里怎么会有别人？”

“或许是有人偷偷摸进来？”他说。

“哦，这或许有可能。”

“还有一件事，”他说，“我并不是警官。”

“你不是？”

“不是，我就是刚才那个杀手，我一直没有挂电话。”

“但是我听到了咔嗒声。”

男人用嘴模仿了一个咔嗒声，“就像这样？”他说。

“哇，好厉害。”

“谢谢。”

“这么说，你真的是在我的房子里？”

“是啊，那当然。”

“你在哪里？”

男人的气息变粗了，“我喜欢你的头发。”他说。

“等等，你能看到我？”

“是的。”

“你喜欢我的头发？”

“真的很漂亮。”

“如果你能看到我，告诉我身上穿的是什么？”

“看起来像是一件香蕉服装店的上衣，裙子是……安妮泰勒精品店？”

“哇，你真的能看到我。”

“我还能看到……等等，那是什么东西？”

“什么？”

“有一个人，一个鬼魂在你身边游荡。”

“你的咔嗒声把戏让我觉得很难相信你。”

“不，真的，就在沙发那边。”

女人转过身，猛吸一口气：“天啊，我看到了！我就知道这个地方会闹鬼。”

“上帝啊，是个孩子？哟，他是透明的。”

“看起来是个小男孩。”

“他要干什么？”

“我猜他想玩游戏，他手里拿着一个风筝。”

鬼魂男孩飘过来，说：“和我玩～～～”

“天啊，他会说话！”男人说。

“和我玩～～～”鬼魂男孩又说。

“嗯，不了，谢谢。”男人说。

“他听不到你。”女人说。

“把免提打开。”

“等一下，”她说，“可以了。”

“我们不想和你玩！明白吗？小东西，走开吧。”

“为什么？”小男孩说，把脑袋侧向一边，“游戏多有意思呀。”

“不，没意思！”男人大喊。

“你是谁？”小男孩问女人，“你为什么在我的房子里？”

“哦，我叫艾伦，我现在就住在这个房子里。电话里的人是……我还不知道你叫什么名字。”

“我叫，呃，道格拉斯。”男人不情愿地说。

“道格拉斯就藏在这里，打算杀死我，对吗，道格拉斯？”艾伦说。

“正是如此。”道格拉斯说。

“你们竟然还在害怕一个拿着风筝的孩子？上帝。”鬼魂男孩说。

“一个拿着风筝的死孩子！”道格拉斯说。

屋子里一下子安静下来。突然，门铃响了。

“有客人？”道格拉斯说。

门铃又响了，艾伦去把门打开。站在门口的是一个身材魁梧的男人，身上穿着破烂的衣服，后背背着一支带血的大砍刀。

“很抱歉，女士，”他说，“我的车坏掉了，请问我可以用您的电源给手机充电吗？”

“对不起，不行。”艾伦说，她准备把门关上。

男人把脚挤在门缝里，“我倒是觉得可以。”他说。

艾伦跌倒在地。

“谁在那里？”道格拉斯喊道。

“我是个杀人流浪汉。你是谁？”流浪汉疑惑地问，“声音从哪里出来的？”

“她是一个藏在房子里的杀手，”艾伦举起电话说，“道格拉斯。”

“藏在哪里？”流浪汉看看四周问。

“他藏在壁橱里。”鬼魂男孩说。

“这TM是什么玩意？”流浪汉叫道。

“我是一个鬼魂，大约一百年前住在这里。噢，让我猜猜，你也不想和我玩。”

“不，我决不想和你玩。这里到底是怎么回事？”

“这里的事情就是没人和我玩！”

“看在上帝的份上，没人会在晚上放风筝！”道格拉斯喊道，“死心吧！”

鬼魂男孩哭起来。

“你怎么把他弄哭了，道格拉斯。”艾伦斥责他。

“对不起，我有点紧张，因为你让一个杀手进来了。”道格拉斯说。

“首先，不是我让他进来，是他自己闯进来的。”艾伦说。

“没错，就是这样”流浪汉说。

“其次，你也是杀手，道格拉斯。”

“了不起。”流浪汉说。

“第三，别对我道歉，给孩子道歉。”

“好吧好吧。对不起，我不该对你大声说话。”道格拉斯说。

鬼魂男孩露出笑容，所有人似乎都平静下来。这时门铃又响了，艾伦走过去开门。

“不要！”三个人同时喊道。

她打开门，向外张望。门口并没有人，只有一个大箱子放在台阶上。

“这里有个箱子，”艾伦说，“没有标签，也没有标记。”

“我对这个箱子有不祥的预感。”流浪汉说。

“我讨厌这个箱子。”鬼魂男孩说。

艾伦不理他们，把箱子搬进来。她转向流浪汉：“可以吗？”他把大砍刀在裤子上擦了擦，递给她。她撬开箱子，伸手进去，拿出一个破破烂烂的小丑玩具，小丑脸上有一种邪恶的笑容。

“是什么？是什么？”道格拉斯在电话里喊道。

“小丑娃娃。”艾伦说。

“我不喜欢小丑娃娃。”鬼魂男孩说，又哭起来。

“干脆把它放回箱子里，省得让我们做噩梦。”流浪汉说。

“看，有个绳子，”趁着还没人阻止，她拽了一下。小丑发出了一阵呼哧声，它的眼珠从一边转到另一边，嘴里发出诡异的歌声。

欢迎来到我的马戏团
有趣的马戏团
你没有地方藏
也没有地方躲
你们都是我帐篷里的客人
我要把你们都杀死

接着小丑发出一阵恐怖的笑声。

“艾伦，你拽那个绳子，真是疯了。”道格拉斯说，“我是说，别再胡来了！”

“小丑的话是什么意思？”鬼魂男孩说。

“我觉得他说得很明白了，”流浪汉把两只手拧在一起，说，“他要把我们都杀死。”

“一个玩偶怎么能杀死我们？”艾伦问。

所有人默默地扫视了一遍房间。突然，房间里的灯熄灭了。

“怎么啦？谁干的？”鬼魂男孩尖叫道。

“什么也看不见！”流浪汉说，“什么也看不见，太黑了！”

在黑暗中，艾伦突然大喊：“噢！不！”

“艾伦？”道格拉斯叫道，“怎么啦？”

“是小丑！它把她杀死了，”流浪汉用颤抖的声音说，“接下来就是我们了！”

“他杀死了艾伦！”鬼魂男孩呜咽着说。

几秒钟之后，灯亮起来。艾伦的手捂在脸上。

“讨厌的隐形眼镜竟然掉了，”她边说边翻开眼皮，在瞳孔旁边寻找隐形眼镜，“真麻烦。”

“我说你别再吓人了。”流浪汉有些畏惧地说。

“她在干什么？”道格拉斯担心地问。

“用她的手指戳自己的眼球。”鬼魂男孩一脸嫌恶地说。

“太滑溜了，”艾伦说，把手指又往眼眶里伸了伸，“够不到。”

道格拉斯似乎有些作呕：“天啊，太恶心了。”

流浪汉握起拳头，伸向嘴边，做了一个恶心的表情。艾伦用继续用大拇指按着她那湿漉漉、颤抖的眼球，似乎想把它撬出来。

“呃，我觉得它叠起来藏到我的眼皮下边了，”艾伦说，她使劲把眼皮揪起来，“谁能过来帮我找一找？”

电话里传出一个咔嗒声。

“道格拉斯？这是真的挂电话声音吗？”

鬼魂男孩慢慢藏到墙壁里：“我还是走吧。”

“鬼魂男孩？”

她听到身后房门的响声。“流浪汉？你也走了？”

流浪汉转过身来，一副茫然的表情。他说：“我恨死这个地方了。”大砍刀从他的手里掉在地上，他转身走进了黑暗中。



原文：

At the end of a quiet road, behind a veil of twisted black oak trees, there was a house. A woman lived there. On bitter nights like this one, she sat by the fire and read until she grew tired enough for sleep. But on this night, as her lids grew heavy, she was startled by a sound. A sound she wasn’t accustomed to hearing these days. Who could be calling, she wondered? And this late? She rose from her chair and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“I’m going to kill you,”  a man with a deep voice said.

“Who is this?” she asked.

No answer.

“Who is this?” she repeated, her hand trembling.

There was a click. Silence. She quickly dialled the police and explained what had happened. The officer told her to wait while he traced the call. After a few moments he said, “The call is coming from . . . inside your house.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said. “How could someone be inside my house?”

“He probably broke in,” he said.

“Oh yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

“And that’s not everything,” he said. “I’m not a police officer.”

“You aren’t?”

“No, I’m the killer guy from before. I never actually hung up.”

“But I heard a click.”

The man made a clicking sound with his mouth. “Like that?” he said.

“Wow, that’s really good.”

“Thanks.”

“So, are you really inside my house?”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Where?”

The man’s breathing grew heavier. “I like your hair,” he said.

“Wait, you can see me?”

“Yes.”

“Wait, you like my hair?”

“It’s really nice.”

“If you can see me, then what am I wearing?”

“Looks like a blouse from Banana and a skirt from . . . Anne Taylor Loft?”

“Wow, you really can see me.”

“I can also see—wait, what the hell is that?”

“What?”

“There’s a person, a ghost hovering near you.”

“It’s sort of hard to trust you after the click thing.”

“No I’m serious, over by the couch.”

The woman turned and gasped, “Oh my god, I see it! I knew this place was haunted.”

“Jesus Christ. Is it a kid? Eww, he’s all translucent.”

“Looks like a little boy.”

“What does he want??”

“I think he wants to play. He’s holding a kite.”

The ghost boy floated closer and spoke: “Play with meeeeee.”

“Oh my God, he can talk!” the man said.

“Play with meeeeee,” the ghost boy repeated.

“Um, no thank you!” the man said.

“He can’t hear you,” the woman said.

“Put me on speaker.”

“Hold on,” she said. “Try now.”

“We don’t want to play with you! O.K., junior? Just run along.”

“Why?” the boy said, cocking his head to one side. “Playing is fun.”

“No it isn’t!” the man yelled .

“Who are you?” the ghost boy asked the woman. “Why are you in my house?”

“Oh, I’m Ellen. I actually live in this house now. And the voice you’re hearing on the phone is . . . I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s, uh, Douglas,” the man said, reluctantly.

“Douglas is hiding somewhere in here to kill me, right, Douglas?” Ellen said.

“That was the plan,” Douglas said .

“And you guys are scared of a kid with a kite? Jesus,” the ghost boy said.

“A dead kid with a kite!” Douglas said.

There was a heavy silence for several moments. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

“Expecting someone?” Douglas asked.

It rang again. Ellen walked over and opened it. Standing there was a hulking man in ratty clothes, barely concealing a bloodied machete behind his back.

“Pardon me, Ma’am,” he said. “My car broke down and I was wondering if I could charge my phone in your house?”

“Sorry, I don’t think so,” Ellen said, starting to close the door.

The man shoved his foot inside. “Well, I do think so,” he said.

Ellen stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Who the hell is that?” Douglas screamed.

“I’m a homicidal drifter. Who the hell are you?” the drifter said, confused. “Where’s that voice coming from?”

“He’s a killer hiding in my house,” Ellen said, holding up the phone. “Douglas.”

“Hiding? Where?” the drifter asked, looking around nervously.

“He’s in the closet,” the ghost boy said.

“What in the shit is that?” the drifter screamed.

“I’m a ghost. I used to live here like a hundred years ago. Oh, and let me guess, you don’t want to play with me.”

“Hell no, I don’t want to play with you. What’s going on in here?”

“What’s going on is no one will play with me!”

“For Christ’s sake, no one’s flying a kite at night,” Douglas shouted. “Give it up!”

The ghost boy began to cry.

“Now you made him cry, Douglas,” Ellen chided.

“Sorry if I’m a little on edge because you let a killer into the house,” Douglas said.

“First of all, I didn’t let him in, he busted in,” Ellen said.

“It’s true, I did,” the drifter said.

“Second of all, you’re also a killer, Douglas.”

“Touché,” the drifter said.

“And third of all, don’t say sorry to me, say sorry to the dead kid.”

“O.K., O.K. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you,” Douglas said.

The ghost boy smiled. Everyone seemed to calm down a bit, until the doorbell rang again. Ellen walked toward the door.

“DON’T!” the three others shouted.

She opened it and peered outside. There was no one there, just a large wooden box on the front step.

“There’s a box out here,” Ellen said. “There’s no label or anything,”

“I have a bad feeling about this box,” the drifter said.

“I hate this box,” the ghost boy said.

Ellen ignored them and carried it inside. She turned to the drifter. “May I?” He wiped his machete on his pants and handed it to her. She popped open the top, reached in, and pulled out a tattered clown doll with a sinister grin.

“What is it? What is it?” Douglas yelled, through the phone.

“Some sort of clown doll,” Ellen said.

“I don’t want to play with a clown doll,” the ghost boy said, beginning to cry.

“Why don’t we just put this thing back in the box before it gives us all nightmares, O.K.?” the drifter said.

“Look, there’s a string,” Ellen said, pulling it before anyone could object. The clown began to wheeze, its eyes shifted from side to side, and an eerily cheerful song emanated from its open mouth.

Welcome to my circus,
My circus of fun.
There’s nowhere to hide.
There’s nowhere to run.
You’re all my guests inside the Big Top.
I’m going to kill you all, basically.

The clown let out a terrible cackle.

“Really psyched you pulled the string, Ellen,” Douglas said. “I mean, come on!”

“What does the clown mean?” the ghost boy asked.

“I think he was pretty clear,” the drifter said, wringing his hands. “He’s going to kill us all . . . basically.”

“How’s a doll going to kill us?” Ellen asked.

Each of them silently surveyed the room in anticipation. Suddenly, the lights went out.

“What happened? Who did that?” the ghost boy screamed.

“I can’t see anything!” the drifter said, “I literally can’t see anything because it’s too dark now!”

Through the darkness, Ellen let out a cry, “Oh no!”

“Ellen?” Douglas screamed, “What is it?”

“It’s the clown! It killed her,” said the drifter, his voice shaking. “And we’re next!”

“He killed Ellen!” the ghost boy sobbed.

Seconds later, the lights flashed back on. Ellen’s hands were raised to her face.

“My stupid contact lens slid out of place,” she said, spreading her eyelids apart, and poking at her pupil. “So annoying.”

“Oh, please don’t do that,” the drifter said, squirming.

“What’s she doing?” Douglas asked, with dread.

“Touching her actual eyeball with her actual finger,” the ghost boy said, wincing.

“It’s a real slippery one,” Ellen said, maneuvering deeper into her eye. “Can’t get a grip on it.”

Douglas gagged. “Oh my god, that’s so vile.”

The drifter raised his fist to his mouth with a grimace, as Ellen pressed her thumb against her wet, quivering eyeball for leverage.

“Ugh, now I think it’s folded up under my lid,” said Ellen, stretching her lid out. “Can someone look and tell me if they can see it?”

There was a click from the phone.

“Douglas? Was that a real click?”

The ghost boy faded into the wall, saying, “I’m out.”

“Ghost boy?”

She heard the front door opening behind her. “Drifter? You, too?”

The drifter turned to her with a dazed look, “I hate this place so much,” he said, then dropped the machete from his limp hand and walked into the darkness.

Pentium_5

不过如此，so so ...