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CHAPTER 32

作品:The stolen Child 作者:凯斯·唐纳胡 字数: 下载本书  举报本章节错误/更新太慢

    Speck loved to be by moving er. My strongest memory is of ed by ts, empatic to tripped to tting ucked beneater rolled around  and tances, I ruck by tours of  move. On anoto, ced by terfloc reflecting on t I did not act upon t intuition because of a fundamental lack of courage. t ed me from crossing at to camp. I sers.

    to t of my first return. ted. t ts edge, and rusty cans, bottles, and ottered ted in t. Books lay  t in our old candleevens , I spent t restoring order, pulling do t  .

    Vibrations above announced tarted ts creaking under t and tterns of tines. I could picture ttling at tations. An  normal, I began to  covered my papers, and I spent most of t first day reading ts and pieces in order, tying tries in McInness journal. So muc be, forgotten, and buried after ime. Reduced to a s pile, ted times passage tle existed, for instance, from tic notes. Years  mention. After revieood the long chore ahead.

    for trapdoor underneation. Unlike on oto pick out a ne, rato steal neing supplies. Bereasure: five long yello t of my life. to introduce a minor intrigue, I also resevens t had been missing.

    ords spilled from te until my  t Speck left, became tory moved backo t ensions of being a groopped.  if sed me to go o stay, said t I lacked to run a a contrary idea pulled at my conscience. Perended for me to find out. S I loved  doalk o anshe unknowables.

    tes tossed and turned on t and started ing on a clean pad, determined to rid my mind of its darkest ts. ted one into t six montrying to piece togetory of my life to give to Speck. Our er ion sloired in December and slept until Marco to me.

    Solemn-eyed Lucs and drained tea. it deliberation, t on eittling in for a long talk. Luc of rye poking tending to study t the branches.

    quot;Good morning, lads. ’s on your minds?quot;

    quot;eve been to t; said Smaolach.

    quot; gone t; said Luchóg.

    quot;e knooquot;

    quot;Read tory of your life.quot;

    Smaolacurned o;A  ;

    quot;?quot; I asked.

    turned t know wo look.

    quot;Youve got a feories ; Luc;May I ask o ;

    quot; did I get ;

    quot;My understanding is t an aut e a book  ; Luc;One doesnt go time and effort to be t expects to be picked.quot;

    Smaolac . quot;It ake, I to e a book t no one ;

    quot;You are quite rig times  dares to bring someto a ;

    I stood and broke tion. quot;ould you please tell me,quot; I ;;

    quot;Im afraid its your fat; said Luchóg.

    quot;My fat about o ;

    quot; w;

    quot; my friend means to say is t t your fat all. t man is anot;

    quot;Come ; said Luchóg.

    As ried to untangle tions of to my book. First, ting to  about tunately, tic cers, a bit eccentric, true, but steadfast allies in my adventures. tioning posed an intriguing concern,  t ao  actually get a book to Speck, or, more to t, about to e it all doy  to e do all. te no books, painted not tural hers?

    At sunset, epped out of cover and  to a scattering of graves in a green space adjacent to tery enclosed by a stone  back to safety, or pero a tranquil, overgroions on tones enants ook me on a opped s among to a plot and sone: ILLIAM DAY, 1917-1962. I knelt doters, considered t; ;

    Lucly. quot;e ;

    quot;I   name in a w;

    Smaolac;I still prefer Aniday. You are one of us.quot;

    quot;;

    quot;e t you srut see your fat nig t;

    quot;And you understand,quot; Luc;t t be your fat;

    I sat do to save myself from fainting. t, of course. By my calendar, fourteen years e on t gravestone. If  long ago, illiam Day could not be  illiam Day but o myself te, and calmly smoked it amid tones. tars came out to define tional secrets, but t I mig out for myself.

    quot;Let us a; Smaolac;and tomorro;

    e leapt te at trekked ion turning to smaller mistakes in my oory. Most of tions escaped scrutiny because my mind ed lanes. Speck old me  of viee clearly t of ters. My fatotal void. Life existed before t sufficiently dragged te t nig, I sat aallized before me. e  montigating t boy, finding out in excruciating detail ture and sory, s of mind—all to assist Igel in t ory, infinitely better t myself. No I knerue name, to ruto , and no of my o Luc, only to find it vacant. In t burroed to disturb their peace.

    quot;Luc; I ell me a story.quot;

    quot;Aniday, for t you see Im sleeping?quot;

    quot;I need to kno;

    By time, sirring as ed until tangled to eye level. quot; is it?quot; he demanded.

    quot;You o tell me everyt ;

    Co tal posit ion quot;Rigo bed. Ask me again in ting. But noo my pilloo my dreams.quot;

    I  off by eace my excitement, I dre tired glares at breakfast t morning, and only after their fill did I dare ask again.

    quot;I am ing a book,quot; I announced, quot;about ory t Speck gave me before s, and noo fill in tails. Pretend Im about to make t on ;

    quot;O; Onions began. quot;You  t;

    quot;No, no, no,quot; said Béka. quot;You are mistaken. t a  all, but one of tical t;

    quot;You are bot; said C;e, smart boy ip of t ers.quot;

    quot;ts rig; said Luc;Mary and Elizabettle curly-tops, fat as lambc;

    quot;You couldnt  or nine,quot; said Chavisory.

    quot;Seven,quot; said Smaolac;;

    quot;Are you sure?quot; asked Onions. quot;Coulda s;

    tion continued in t of tested bites of information, and trut tant cousin of trut to tely and togetimes an ansed a fact in my brain. Sloime, a pattern emerged, and my curned to me. But one tery.

    Before ter, I  off, intent upon climbing t peak in trees o to t, ty looked like toy building blocks. Off to t village cut in t, try beyond. to t, a farm or trees and stone. I sat on taintop and read, dreamt at niger, I fasted and reflected upon tence. On t in t my fat in t?   botcartled by ted te lingered, taken my place wole me away?

    I kne man  ended for me. tealer of my story, thief of my life: henry Day.