天呐！怎么手腕处断开了，好像一支断手，戴着毛茸茸的手套攀在窗外侧的墙上。（图片来源：www.pexels.com)
大约七八年前的一个夏夜，床上刚躺下不久，将睡未睡的时候，隐约听到窸窸窣窣的声音，声音不大，开始我还迷迷瞪瞪，也没在意，但声音还在继续，偶尔夹杂着一两下尖锐的刺啦声。翻身看向声音来的方向，百叶窗挡着看不见外面，夏夜里半开着纱窗，不热也不冷，但不知是那声音的尖锐还是自己的警觉，胳膊上的汗毛在鸡皮疙瘩的簇拥下，一根根都竖了起来。
因为那些天刚看过一个古装电视剧，我怀疑会不会有人飞檐走壁，来到房顶上的窗外，正在用工具试图破窗而入。我小心翼翼下床，蹑手蹑脚来到窗前。外面的声音更真切了，要不是百叶窗挡着，一切近在眼前。因为窗前是两三寸宽一片的那种一个个厚片串起来的百叶窗，隔着外面的光，于是手指轻轻的一点一点的把百叶窗，开启一个细缝，然后悄默声的让那个缝隙一点一点的变大。随之，外面传进来的声音也越来越大，节奏也越来越清晰……真特吗要命！更要命的是，我听到了自己的心跳声，而且声音比外面的还响，还和外面的节奏共振，只不过耳膜频率快了两三倍，砰砰砰……弄的耳鼓膜被敲的一涨一涨的。难怪科学家把耳朵里这东西命名为鼓膜。
心跳声似乎在催促我赶紧逃离，或者躲到床底下，要么干脆大吼一声虚张声势一下，把不速之客吓走。但在可怕的好奇心驱使下，我的眼睛不争气的仍然顺着声音的来处，向百叶窗的缝隙贴了上去，向外偷窥。
不知是月光还是小街路灯的光下，影绰绰的看到外面，贴着窗棂，墙砖上模模糊糊好像一个人的手指，似乎还戴着个手套，手指上还捏着一柄类似小刀、小钉子一样的作案工具。耳朵里咚咚咚的战鼓声更剧烈起来。不，应该是鸣金收兵的破锣声。然而，被我那该死的好奇心带动下的手指，仿佛耳朵聋了似的，没听到内心焦急盼望收兵的鸣锣声，仍然继续不听使唤的把百叶窗的角度压得更大，外面的月光或灯光更多的透射进来，外面的响动也更多更大更清晰的传了进来，这位窗外的不速之客，其形象也逐渐完整的映入眼帘——一个手指、两个手指......毛茸茸的手套，然后粗壮的手腕……然后……天呐！怎么手腕处断开了，好像一支断手，戴着毛茸茸的手套攀在窗外测的墙上。OMG，这只断手还在动！哎呦，这特吗哪是断手？！这整个一只毛茸茸的小动物，一只小浣熊！
我的耳膜不再咚咚作响的鼓噪了，窗外面的声响听得更加清晰了。我从没有这么近距离的观看一只浣熊，不到半尺间距，脸几乎贴到它脑瓜上，偷窥一只旁若无人、肆无忌惮的小浣熊，感觉到它的爪子稍稍半伸就能够抓到我的脸。这小家伙一副笨爪笨脚的样子，用爪子抓着墙砖往上爬，毛茸茸的身子还前后左右地拱着蹭着，爬上半尺高再滑下来三寸，滑下时带着尖锐的刺啦声，既滑稽又可爱。
我的心刚刚转危为安，此时又有些不安分起来：这小家伙刚才吓得我够呛！我要不要也突然弄出个声响来，把它也吓得掉下来摔个大马趴，也吓它个半死？想着时，手指已经捏住了百叶窗，开始酝酿着突然发出啪啪撞击声然后再吼一嗓子。刚要动手，小家伙突然向我这边侧过它的小脸来。这是一张似人非人的小花脸，又方又圆又三角形的毛脸儿，好像戏台上的小丑，眉毛额头还有腮帮子上都扑满了白粉儿，眼眶涂炭，又大又黑的，其中一双不大不小的眼睛正在向我看过来，既像是盲人，目光没有焦点，眼睛视而不见；又像是猎人，以猎物的形象或诱饵的身份现身，眼神里似藏着狡黠，在大大的黑眼眶和懵懂的眼睛中心，正透过瞳孔深处和我对视着。我的手僵在那里，不再轻举妄动。
它在明处，我在暗处……按理说，它应该看不见我正在盯着它的眼睛。可是……它的眼神好像在警告我：我可不认这个理儿！非人类的眼神，我可能永远也读不懂。哎！小小浣熊啊，这真是一双看似无辜，又疑似十分记仇的眼睛！
它疑似特意扭头和我对视了好几秒钟，又正过头去，继续上爬下滑地向上努力着。我隔着半开的百叶窗，眼睛藏在百叶的阴影里，目送着它一点一点的爬了上去……
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……
