天吶！怎麼手腕處斷開了，好像一支斷手，戴著毛茸茸的手套攀在窗外側的牆上。（圖片來源：www.pexels.com)
大約七八年前的一個夏夜，床上剛躺下不久，將睡未睡的時候，隱約聽到窸窸窣窣的聲音，聲音不大，開始我還迷迷瞪瞪，也沒在意，但聲音還在繼續，偶爾夾雜著一兩下尖銳的刺啦聲。翻身看向聲音來的方向，百葉窗擋著看不見外面，夏夜裡半開著紗窗，不熱也不冷，但不知是那聲音的尖銳還是自己的警覺，胳膊上的汗毛在雞皮疙瘩的簇擁下，一根根都豎了起來。
因為那些天剛看過一個古裝電視劇，我懷疑會不會有人飛檐走壁，來到房頂上的窗外，正在用工具試圖破窗而入。我小心翼翼下床，躡手躡腳來到窗前。外面的聲音更真切了，要不是百葉窗擋著，一切近在眼前。因為窗前是兩三寸寬一片的那種一個個厚片串起來的百葉窗，隔著外面的光，於是手指輕輕的一點一點的把百葉窗，開啟一個細縫，然後悄默聲的讓那個縫隙一點一點的變大。隨之，外面傳進來的聲音也越來越大，節奏也越來越清晰……真特嗎要命！更要命的是，我聽到了自己的心跳聲，而且聲音比外面的還響，還和外面的節奏共振，只不過耳膜頻率快了兩三倍，砰砰砰……弄的耳鼓膜被敲的一漲一漲的。難怪科學家把耳朵裡這東西命名為鼓膜。
心跳聲似乎在催促我趕緊逃離，或者躲到床底下，要麼乾脆大吼一聲虛張聲勢一下，把不速之客嚇走。但在可怕的好奇心驅使下，我的眼睛不爭氣的仍然順著聲音的來處，向百葉窗的縫隙貼了上去，向外偷窺。
不知是月光還是小街路燈的光下，影綽綽的看到外面，貼著窗欞，牆磚上模模糊糊好像一個人的手指，似乎還戴著個手套，手指上還捏著一柄類似小刀、小釘子一樣的作案工具。耳朵裡咚咚咚的戰鼓聲更劇烈起來。不，應該是鳴金收兵的破鑼聲。然而，被我那該死的好奇心帶動下的手指，彷彿耳朵聾了似的，沒聽到內心焦急盼望收兵的鳴鑼聲，仍然繼續不聽使喚的把百葉窗的角度壓得更大，外面的月光或燈光更多的透射進來，外面的響動也更多更大更清晰的傳了進來，這位窗外的不速之客，其形象也逐漸完整的映入眼簾——一個手指、兩個手指......毛茸茸的手套，然後粗壯的手腕……然後……天吶！怎麼手腕處斷開了，好像一支斷手，戴著毛茸茸的手套攀在窗外測的牆上。OMG，這隻斷手還在動！哎呦，這特嗎哪是斷手？！這整個一隻毛茸茸的小動物，一隻小浣熊！
我的耳膜不再咚咚作響的鼓噪了，窗外面的聲響聽得更加清晰了。我從沒有這麼近距離的觀看一隻浣熊，不到半尺間距，臉幾乎貼到它腦瓜上，偷窺一隻旁若無人、肆無忌憚的小浣熊，感覺到它的爪子稍稍半伸就能夠抓到我的臉。這小傢伙一副笨爪笨腳的樣子，用爪子抓著牆磚往上爬，毛茸茸的身子還前後左右地拱著蹭著，爬上半尺高再滑下來三寸，滑下時帶著尖銳的刺啦聲，既滑稽又可愛。
我的心剛剛轉危為安，此時又有些不安分起來：這小傢伙剛才嚇得我夠嗆！我要不要也突然弄出個聲響來，把它也嚇得掉下來摔個大馬趴，也嚇它個半死？想著時，手指已經捏住了百葉窗，開始醞釀著突然發出啪啪撞擊聲然後再吼一嗓子。剛要動手，小傢伙突然向我這邊側過它的小臉來。這是一張似人非人的小花臉，又方又圓又三角形的毛臉兒，好像戲台上的小丑，眉毛額頭還有腮幫子上都撲滿了白粉兒，眼眶塗炭，又大又黑的，其中一雙不大不小的眼睛正在向我看過來，既像是盲人，目光沒有焦點，眼睛視而不見；又像是獵人，以獵物的形象或誘餌的身份現身，眼神裡似藏著狡黠，在大大的黑眼眶和懵懂的眼睛中心，正透過瞳孔深處和我對視著。我的手僵在那裡，不再輕舉妄動。
它在明處，我在暗處……按理說，它應該看不見我正在盯著它的眼睛。可是……它的眼神好像在警告我：我可不認這個理兒！非人類的眼神，我可能永遠也讀不懂。哎！小小浣熊啊，這真是一雙看似無辜，又疑似十分記仇的眼睛！
它疑似特意扭頭和我對視了好幾秒鐘，又正過頭去，繼續上爬下滑地向上努力著。我隔著半開的百葉窗，眼睛藏在百葉的陰影裡，目送著它一點一點的爬了上去……
Outside the Window – An Unexpected Visitor
By Li Tangfeng
It was about seven or eight years ago, on a summer night. I had just lain down, half awake and half asleep, when I faintly heard a rustling sound. It wasn’t loud, and at first, in my drowsiness, I didn’t pay much attention. But the sound persisted, occasionally mixed with a sharp scraping noise. Turning over, I looked toward where it came from. The blinds blocked my view. The summer night air drifting through the half-open screen window was neither hot nor cold, yet whether from the sharpness of the sound or my own heightened alertness, the hairs on my arm bristled, each one standing up under a wave of goosebumps.
Because I had been watching a historical TV drama those days, I half-suspected some martial-arts burglar or assassin had scaled the roof and was now trying to break into the window with tools. I carefully got out of bed, tiptoeing to the window. The sound outside grew clearer. Were it not for the blinds, everything would have been right before my eyes. The blinds were made of thick slats strung together, two or three inches wide. With the faint light outside, I began to lift the lower edge slowly, slat by slat, opening a narrow gap, then widening it little by little. As I did, the sounds from outside grew louder, the rhythm clearer… Damn! This was unnerving! Worse still, I could hear my own heartbeat, louder than the noises outside, resonating with their rhythm. Only, my heart was racing two or three times faster—thump, thump, thump—pounding as if drums were striking inside my ears. No wonder scientists named that thing in the ear a “drum membrane.”
My heartbeat seemed to urge me either to run, or hide under the bed, or to shout loudly to scare away the intruder. But driven by a terrifying curiosity, my eyes betrayed me. I was dragged to press them against the crack in the blinds, and peered outside.
Whether in moonlight or under the glow of streetlamps, I thought I saw—blurred against the wall tiles—a finger of someone clinging to the brick edge of the window. It even seemed gloved, holding what looked like a knife or nail, a burglar’s tool. My heartbeat drummed louder, no—it sounded more like the crash of a gong calling for retreat. Yet my cursed curiosity kept my fingers moving, widening the blinds. More light seeped in, more sounds flowed through, and the intruder’s figure gradually revealed itself—one finger, two fingers… a furry glove, a thick wrist… Then—Heavens! The wrist was cut off, a severed hand wearing a furry glove clinging to the wall! OMG—it was moving! …Wait—this wasn’t a severed hand at all. It was a whole little animal. A raccoon!
The pounding in my ears suddenly subsided, and I could hear the noises outside more clearly. I had never been this close to a raccoon—barely half a foot away, my face almost touching its head, spying on a shameless little creature. Its paw, if stretched just a little farther, could have scratched my face. The clumsy little fellow clung to the wall tiles, its furry body wriggling and rubbing, climbing up half a foot before slipping back three inches, each slip making that sharp scraping sound—both ridiculous and oddly endearing.
Just as my heart shifted from fear to relief, another thought stirred: this rascal had nearly scared me to death! Should I make a sudden noise, frighten it into falling off for a taste of its own medicine? As I was pondering it, my fingers gripped the blinds, ready to snap them and shout. But before I could, the little guy turned its face toward me.
What a strange little mask it had: part square, part round, part triangular, like a stage clown’s painted face. Its brow, forehead, and cheeks were dusted white, its eye sockets dark and heavy, and within them two eyes—neither big nor small—were staring right at me. Yet they didn’t seem focused, like the eyes of a blind man…… or perhaps like those of a hunter, watching his prey while posing as prey. In that gaze was something sly, hidden deep in the pupils. Our eyes locked. My hands froze, unable to move.
It was in the light, and I in the shadow… Logically, it shouldn’t have seen me staring back. But the look in its eyes seemed to warn: Don’t assume that I’ll follow your logic, and don’t imagine your luck that I haven’t noticed you! Nonhuman eyes—perhaps I will never understand them. Oh, little raccoon! Such innocent-seeming eyes, yet perhaps just as capable of bearing a grudge if offended.
It seemed to glare at me deliberately for several long seconds before turning away, and resuming its clumsy climb. From behind the half-open blinds, hidden in the shadows, I watched as it inched its way upward……
