天藍色的彼岸

《天藍色的彼岸》是英國著名暢銷小說家、編劇亞歷克斯·希勒（Alex Shearer）的著作，是一本溫暖、感人、引人深思的小說，講述了一個與死亡、生命和愛有關(guān)的故事。小說的主人公男孩哈利在騎單車時因被一輛卡車撞倒而喪生，他死后發(fā)現(xiàn)自己來到了一個叫“停留之地”（The Other Land）的地方，漸漸地，他發(fā)現(xiàn)所有心有牽掛的鬼魂都徘徊在這個地方，只有了無牽掛的鬼魂才能進入“天藍色的彼岸”（The Great Blue Yonder），然后他認識了男孩亞瑟，亞瑟帶著他偷偷溜回人間，哈利有了重新審視過去，完成心中未了之事，與朋友、家人一一告別的機會。

哈利是幸運的，在死后不久就解開了心結(jié)，而更多的鬼魂卻只能一直在“停留之地”和人間中徘徊尋覓，比如亞瑟，已經(jīng)找了他素未謀面的母親幾百年（幸而最后終于找到）；比如斯丹，一直守在電燈柱旁等他的狗，一等就是五十年；比如尤格，石器時代的原始人，只會發(fā)出“Ug”的聲音，沒“人”知道他在找什么。讀著他們的故事，總不免讓人傷感，但也啟發(fā)我們重新審視自己的生活。生活充滿變數(shù)，你永遠不知道明天會發(fā)生什么，珍惜當(dāng)下，把握人生，勿留遺憾。

She was working on some history essay. Her books were open on the 2）vanity unit， and she had an A4 pad there and some pencils at the ready for taking notes.

As I watched she sat back down on her chair， and she took up her history book. But much as she tried to read it， and much as she tried to concentrate， her eyes kept glancing up at those old photographs. There were photographs of me on my own and photographs of the two of us together. There was also a photo of when Eggy was small and when I was only a baby—maybe I’d even just been born. And she was holding me， with Dad’s help， while Mum looked on， rather nervously， as if worried that Eggy might drop me on my head. （And maybe she even wanted to drop me on my head， just a bit.） Then there were later photos of her and me， both of us getting bigger and older. And she was always three years ahead of me， always my big sister， and I was always her 3）pesky little brother， driving her nuts and getting on her nerves.

There were photographs of all of us too， of me and Eggy and Mum and Dad， all standing there together， smiling at the new camera with the automatic timer.

There I was. And there we were. And nothing would ever bring us back or make us whole again. I felt so sad again—but I wouldn’t give in to it. I was on a mission， like they say， and I had to see it through. I had to settle the unfinished business. I had to forgive and be forgiven. I couldn’t let Eggy go through the rest of her life remembering those last words she’d ever said to me， just before I stormed out to get run over by a truck.

“You’ll be sorry one day when I’m dead！” I’d said to her.

“No， I won’t be！” she’d shouted after me. “I’ll be glad！”

And then I’d never come back.

“Eggy，” I said. “Eggy， it’s Harry. I’m here， right by you. Right here. But don’t be afraid. It’s OK， Eggy， I’m a ghost now， that’s all. But it’s OK， it’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m not going to haunt you for ever. I just came back to work things out with you， to say I’m sorry. Can you hear me， Eggy？ Do you know I’m here？” But she looked back down at her history book， reached out and turned a page over， and she didn’t know that I was standing right behind her， so close that I could reach out and touch her.

“I’m touching your shoulder， Eggy. Can you feel my hand？ Can you？ It’s me， Harry. Don’t be afraid. I’m just touching your shoulder， that’s all.”

But she went on reading the history book， and then paused， and took up one of the pencils， and made a few notes about Henry the Eighth and all the wives he once had and why he had them.

“Eggy—it’s me.”

“Eggy …”

Nothing.

She looked up from her book， daydreaming maybe， like you do in the middle of your homework. Her eyes fell on the photo of her and me at my fourth birthday party. Me getting ready to blow out all the candles. Her getting ready to help me in case I ran out of air.

“Oh， Harry，” she said. “Oh， Harry.”

And she reached out and touched the photo， just like it was flesh and blood and not just paper and chemicals.

I saw the pencil lying on the desk. I remembered the leaf on the tree， Jelly’s 4）biro， and Arthur with the fruit machine. I could do it. I knew I could. I had to. I focused my thoughts on the pencil， all of them， every part of me. I tried to shine my thoughts upon it as if they were the beam of a torch.

“Please，” I thought， “please， please， please …”

And then I did it. It moved. The pencil moved. I moved it up on to its point， and it balanced there in the air， just as if some ghostly hand was around it， which—in a sense—it was.

“My god！” Eggy 5）gasped， and she pushed her chair back. I wanted to think at her， “Don’t worry， Eggy， don’t be afraid，” but I had no thoughts to spare. Everything of me was concentrating on that pencil， on holding it upright in the air， and then on making it move towards the paper of the A4 pad.

Eggy remained in her chair， frightened and， yet not frightened； just waiting， waiting to see. She had her hands on the edge of the desk， and was leaning back in her chair， almost as if she was trying to push the desk away.

But she didn’t scream， she didn’t run， she didn’t shout for Mum and Dad， she just sat there， stiffly watching as the pencil began to move towards the paper. And as it did， she said，“Harry？ Harry？ Is it you？”

I moved the pencil to the paper， and I made it write the word， Yes.

She didn’t turn. She kept her eyes fixed on the pencil and the writing pad.

“Harry，” she said. “I’m so sorry， Harry， I’m so sorry for what I said to you. I’ve thought about it ever since， every second of every day. I’d do anything to undo it， Harry. I wish I could turn the clock back. I’m so sorry， Harry， I am.”

And I made the pencil write， I know. I’m sorry too， Eggy.

The writing was like my writing had been when I was alive， only it was very faint and 6）spidery. I didn’t have the mental strength somehow to put much pressure on the pencil. Just making the pencil write and keeping it in the air was taking all the strength I had， and I didn’t know if I could hold it there for much longer. I already felt exhausted， as if there wasn’t much of me left.

I thought at the pencil， as hard as I ever could. And， you know， making that pencil move across the paper was the most difficult thing I’d done in my entire—well， life.

Forgive me， Eggy， I wrote. Please. For what I said.

For a moment， she didn’t say anything， she just sat， staring at the words on the paper， but then she swallowed hard and she said， “Of course I forgive you， Harry. Of course I do. Forgive me too， won’t you， Harry. You know I didn’t mean it， don’t you？ I was angry. I said a stupid thing. Forgive me，Harry. I love you.”

My strength was all but gone. I tried to force the pencil over the paper， to make it write down what I wanted to say. I tried， I really did try， you can’t say I didn’t try， no one could say that. And I almost did it too， I almost did.

I love you too， Eg—

And then the pencil fell before I could finish her name， and I couldn’t write any more.

“Harry？ Are you still there？”

She turned and looked around the room.

“Harry？”

And course I was still there， but all my strength had gone. And there was no more left to be said or to be done. There was no more that I could say to the living. And little use in them saying anything to me. And I felt that it was time for me to go now.

To go， and never to come back.

But I felt at peace at last. Sad and sorry， but at peace. I’d 7）made up with Eggy， and that made me feel as if a great weight had been lifted from me. And I remembered something that our headmaster， Mr. Hallent， had said once， during one of his boring assemblies， when he’d read this bit out from the Bible about “Never let the sun go down on your 8）wrath”， meaning that you should never go to sleep still angry and enemies with someone， especially someone you loved， because one of you might not wake up in the morning. And then where would you be？ Well， I’ll tell you. You’d be stuck with a whole big plateful of unfinished business， just like me.

Only my business was finished now. I’d said I was sorry. I could go now， move on， to whatever lay there beyond the Other Lands， to whatever lay at the 9）margins， past the eternal sunset. I could go off into the Great Blue Yonder.

她正在寫一篇歷史論文。她的書在梳妝臺上打開，上面還放著一本A4紙和一些用于做筆記的鉛筆。

我看著她坐到椅子上，拿起歷史書。盡管她努力想把書讀進去，盡管她努力集中精神，但她的視線還是不由自主地飄到那些老照片上。這是一些我的單人照和我們倆的合照。有一張艾吉還小而我只是個嬰兒時的照片——也許我才剛出生。……