Chapter 3 third chapter

Looking down on earth from heaven, everything looks strange.You probably first think of looking down from such a high place, as if standing on a skyscraper, and things on the ground must look as small as ants.In addition, we can also see the souls who have left the world. Harley and I often observe the world carefully, we stay on a certain point and stare intently for a few seconds, we want to see if there is anything unusual happening in this inconspicuous moment.Sometimes the soul floats past the living, touches the shoulder or the cheek of the living, and continues on to heaven.The living usually cannot see the dead, but some people in the mortal world seem to clearly feel the changes in their surroundings. Some people say that they feel a sudden chill. Some partners of the deceased wake up from their dreams and suddenly find a vague figure standing in front of the bed, at the door, Or lightly boarding a school bus, these are occasional encounters between the living and the dead.

When I left this world, I passed a girl named Ruth who went to the same school as me, but we didn't know each other very well.She happened to be standing on my way to heaven the night I died crying, and I couldn't help but bump into her.I just lost my life, I couldn't control my steps, I didn't have time to think about it, in the midst of the brutality, I just wanted to get out of it as soon as possible.When you cross the boundary between life and death, life is like a ship sailing away from the shore, slowly getting farther and farther away from you; death is like a rope, you must hold on to it, and as it shakes, death will end will take you elsewhere, and you just hope it will take you far away from this moment of pain.

I was like a prisoner who was allowed to make a phone call in a prison, picked up the phone but dialed the wrong number, and ended up with Ruth.Conness suffered unintended consequences.I saw her standing next to Mr. Burt's rusty red sports car. I floated past her and reached out to touch her face. I wanted to feel the warmth of the world again before I left the world. Her cheeks were My last connection with the world. On the morning of December 7th, Ruth complained to her mother that she had had a bad dream last night, which was so vivid that it felt real.Her mother asked her what she meant by that, and Ruth replied: I was walking past the teacher's parking lot when all of a sudden I saw a pale ghost running towards me from outside the football field very quickly.

Mrs. Conness listened and stirred the porridge in the pot as she watched her daughter gesticulate as she waved long fingers like her father's. I could feel it was a female ghost, Ruth said: She floated up from the football field, her eyes were empty, and she was wrapped in a white gown like gauze.Through the thin gauze, I can see her face, her nose, eyes, cheeks and hair are all hidden through the gauze. Mrs. Conness put the porridge off the stove and turned down the fire, Ruth, she said: Your imagination is at work again. Ruth knew she'd better keep her mouth shut. She never brought up the dream that seemed so real, and even after ten days, when news of my death spread throughout the school, she didn't say anything.The news of my death was like all horror stories, the more people told it, the more horrific it became, and my classmates added fuel and made it even more horrific than what happened, but there are still many details that no one knows, such as Say, how did the murder happen?Where is the murder scene?Who is the murderer?Everyone had different opinions, but it turned out that my death was related to the devil sacrifice, the murder happened at midnight, and the number one suspect was Ray.singh.

In spite of everything I tried, I could not convey a strong message to Ruth as to where my silver bracelet was.No one has picked up the silver bracelet so far, and I think it might help Ruth get rid of her inner confusion.The silver bracelet was originally exposed in the field, waiting to be picked up by someone. If someone picked it up and recognized what it was, they might think: ah, this is a clue.But now the silver bracelet is no longer in the cornfield. Ruth began to write poetry.Since her mother and teachers who were more willing to listen were unwilling to share her heavy personal experience, she decided to convey the truth through poetry.

How I wish Ruth could come to my house and talk to my family, but no one in my family has ever heard the name Ruth except my sister.Ruth was one of those girls who was chosen last when everyone was picking teammates in gym class.In volleyball class, as soon as the ball flew towards her, she would just stand still and tremble, letting the ball fall beside her, and her teammates and physical education teacher had to hold back their silence when they saw it. Mom sat on a chair in the porch, quietly watching Dad running in and out.Since my accident, my father has become very nervous, watching the whereabouts of my mother, younger brother and sister all the time.At the same time, Ruth knew that it was me she saw in the dream, and she also secretly did something.

She went through the old yearbooks from cover to cover, and used her mother's embroidery scissors to cut out pictures of me in class, in chemistry club, and in other extracurricular activities.I watched her getting deeper and deeper, and I was really worried for her. A week before Christmas, she saw something in the school hallway. She saw my friends Clarissa and Brian.Nelson.Bryan had thick shoulders that girls stared at, but his face reminded me of a burlap bag full of straw, so I called him the Scarecrow.He wore a baggy hippie hat and smoked hand-rolled cigarettes in the student smoking room.Clarissa likes to use sky blue eye shadow, and my mother doesn't like it, but because of this, I admire Clarissa a lot. She can do things that I can't, such as highlighting long hair, wearing Popular platform shoes, smoking after school, these are things my parents won't allow me to do.

Ruth walked up to them, but they didn't see her, and she hugged a large stack of books borrowed from Mrs. Kaplan, her sociology teacher, these were early feminist discourses, and she turned the back of the books to herself so that everyone could read them. I don't know what books she is holding.Ruth's father is a builder, and he made two extremely stretchable book tapes for Ruth as a gift. Ruth wrapped the tapes around the books in her arms, and planned to read these feminist discourses during the holiday. Clarice and Brian giggled, and the higher he reached his hand under her blouse, the harder she laughed.But she kept twisting, or moving back an inch or two, to teach him not to overdo it.Most of the time, Ruth watched with cold eyes, and this time was no exception. She was going to lower her head as usual, shift her eyes to other places, and walk away pretending that she didn't see anything, but everyone knows that Clarice is my friend , so she decided to stand aside and watch.

Honey, don't be like this, Brian said: love me a little, just once. I see Ruth pouted in disgust, and I do the same in heaven. Brian, no, not here. So, shall we go to the cornfield?he whispered. Clarissa smirks nervously, but still gently nuzzles Brian's scruff.This time she still said no. After this, someone broke open Clarissa's locker. The notebooks, the photos that were jumbled in the closet, the marijuana that Brian had hidden in Clarissa's closet behind her back, all gone. Ruth had never been drugged before, and that night she took her mother's slender light cigarette, emptied it of tobacco, stuffed it with marijuana, and sat in the tool shed with a flashlight, Smoking weed while looking at pictures of me, she smoked so much that even the junkies at school couldn't smoke as much.

Mrs. Conness stood by the kitchen window washing dishes, and she smelled smoke coming from the utility room. I think Ruth made a few friends at school.She told her husband that Mr Conness sat reading the evening paper with his coffee, too tired to think after a day's work. There may be some hope for our daughter. She's always been great.He said. Later that night, Ruth staggered into the kitchen, her vision almost blurred from too long a flashlight and eight marijuana cigarettes.Her mother smiled as she walked in and told her pleasantly that there was a blueberry pie on the table.After a few days, after putting her mind on other things, she gradually came to her senses and realized that she actually ate a whole blueberry pie in one sitting while she was unconscious.

My heaven is often filled with a faint smell of skunk. I like this smell when I am on earth. strength.The skunk emits this strong, persistent stench when it is frightened, a vague mixture of fear and defense.Fernie's Paradise smelled of pure tobacco, and Halle's Paradise smelled like kumquats. Day and night I sat watching from the balcony of the square, and I watched Clarice gradually forget me and seek solace in Brian; From a corner of the classroom, staring at Clarissa intently.When I first found out that I could see what was going on at school, I was obsessed like a drunk. I saw the assistant football coach sneaking chocolates to the married nature teacher, and I saw the cheerleaders doing their best to attract attention. The attention of a bad student. This student did not know how many times he violated the school rules, and he did not know how many times he was expelled from the school, so many times that he could not remember.I also saw the art teacher having sex with his girlfriend in the radiator and noticed the headmaster giving the assistant football coach an admiring look. My conclusion is that the assistant coach is the most handsome guy in the school, but I really don't like it His square jaw. On the way back to the luxury apartment every night, I will pass a row of old-fashioned street lamps along the way. I have seen such street lamps in the stage play Our Town.When I went to the theater with my family, I thought the round light bulb was like a big glowing mushroom, so I remember street lights like this.On the streets of Paradise, I deliberately walked under the shadow of the street lamp so that my shadow seemed to puncture every large glowing mushroom, a game I often played on the way home. One night, after seeing what Ruth was doing, I was walking home in the shadow of a street lamp as usual, and I met Fernie on the way, no one was around, and there was a whirlwind in front of me, and the fallen leaves swirled and slowly rose with the wind .I stopped to look at her, my eyes lingering on the corners of her eyes and the lines of laughter around her mouth. why are you shakingasked Fernie. Although it was wet and cold, I could not say that I was shivering because of the cold. I really can't think of my mother.I said. Fernie took my left hand with a smile and put mine between hers. I really wanted to kiss her on the cheek or let her hug me, but I didn't do anything and watched her slowly go away. Fernie's blue dress was getting further and further away from me, and I knew she wasn't my mother, and I couldn't play this pretend game. I turned and walked back to the balcony on the square, the moist air spread along my thighs to my arms, silently and softly touching my hair.I think of a spider's web in the morning, bejeweled with dew, which I had destroyed with a flick of my head before, without thinking. On the morning of my eleventh birthday, I got up early in the morning, and everyone was still up, at least I thought so.I sneaked down the stairs, looked and looked into the dining room, I guess my parents put presents in the dining room, but there was nothing in the dining room, the table was still as empty as last night.But as soon as I turned around, I saw something set up in the living room on my mother's table, which is a very special table that is always clean. We call it the bill-paying table.There is a stack of wrapping papers on the table, and there is an unwrapped camera in the middle. I have always wanted a camera. I have been begging for a long time, and I am almost sure that my parents will never buy it for me.I went to the table and took a closer look. It was a point-and-shoot camera with three rolls of film and a four-corner flash next to it.This is my first camera and with it I can fulfill my dream of being a wildlife photographer. I looked around, saw no one, and through the half-closed shutters, I saw Grace.Tarkin (Mum used to keep the shutters half open, she said it made the house look nicer but kept it at a distance).Grace lived at the end of the street and attended a private school. I saw her walking up and down the street with something tied around her ankle. I quickly loaded up the film and stalked her.As I followed the prison, I imagined myself growing up to track wild elephants and rhinos, hiding behind shutters and windows now, and maybe hiding among the tall reeds when I grew up.Pulling up the hem of my pajamas with the hand that wasn't holding the camera, I followed Grace quietly, almost furtively, through the living room of the house, through the front door, to the study on the other side of the house, I watched her go farther and farther away, and it suddenly occurred to me that if I ran to the backyard, there would be nothing blocking my view. So I tiptoed to the back of the house only to find someone had opened the little door leading to the backyard. As soon as I saw my mother, I immediately forgot about Grace.I have never seen my mother sitting so straight, looking so vacant, facing the backyard, sitting on an aluminum folding chair outside the corridor, holding a small saucer with a cup of her usual drink coffee.Mom hadn't put on lipstick that morning, so there was no lipstick mark on the rim of the coffee cup, maybe she'd put it on later.But who is she wearing makeup for?I never thought about it, for Dad?Or for us? Halla was panting happily while sitting by the birdbath. He focused on his mother and didn't notice me.Mom looked straight ahead, her eyes seemed to extend into the boundless future, at that moment, she was not like our mother, but like a stranger who had nothing to do with me.The woman in front of me does not look like a mother at all. I have never seen my mother show such an expression. The skin on her face is fair, and she is still soft and white without makeup. The eyelashes and eyes are quite beautiful as a whole.Mom hid some chocolate-wrapped cherries in the wine cabinet, which was her private collection. When Dad wanted to eat cherries, he always pestered Mom and called her the sea-eyed girl. At this moment, I finally knew why Dad called Mom that way. I thought it was because my mother's eyes were blue, but now I know it's because my mother's eyes are deep, like the boundless sea, which made me a little scared.I had an idea, I didn't think much about why, I just wanted to do this intuitively: I want to do this before Harold sees me and smells me, while the grass is still covered with morning dew and my mother is not fully awake. Time to grab my new camera and capture the moment. Kodak sent the pictures back in a big, heavy envelope, and I could tell the difference as soon as I saw them, and of all the pictures, only in the first one was Mom Abigail.She didn't know that I was taking pictures, and the photos captured the most real moments; when I clicked the shutter, the sound of the shutter startled her, and since then she has become our mother, the owner of the happy puppy, and the wife of Mr. Nice Mr. , the hostess who planted flowers and plants, and the neighbors who smiled.My mother's eyes are like oceans, and there are endless losses buried in them. I thought I had a lifetime to understand her, but I only thought of this question on that day.I saw it once when I was alive, and then I forgot about the Abigail in my mother's heart; I just wanted to see the mother I knew, always under her protection, so I didn't give it a second thought. I was on the balcony of heaven thinking about that picture and my mother, Lindsey sneaked out of the door in the middle of the night, I watched her like a thief in a movie, I knew she wanted to go to my room, and I knew she didn't have to try can open my door, but what is she going to do in my room?My room has become a forbidden place at home, and my mother would never touch it. On the day of the accident, I hurried out and had no time to make the bed. My bed is still in its original state; my baby hippopotamus is still lying between the quilt and pillow, which was changed that morning The outfit I wanted to wear before I put on flared trousers is still on the bed. Lindsey walked across the soft rug in the room, touched the blue skirt and the red and blue knitted vest on the bed that were crumpled up by me in anger.Lindsey had a tank top in the same color, orange and green, and she took mine and spread it flat on the bed, smoothing out the creases.The vest is ugly, but it looks so precious. She caresses my vest and I can feel her thoughts. Lindsey's fingers lightly brush the gold tray on my nightstand with all the different badges on it, my favorite is the pink one that says Happy︱Dippy Says Love, I picked it up in the school parking lot, Mom Said I could stay, but I had to promise not to wear it to school.I put a lot of badges in the tray, and I pinned some pins to the giant banner of Indiana University, my dad's alma mater.I thought Lindsay wanted to grab a badge or two, but she didn't, didn't even touch, she just ran her finger lightly over everything on the tray.After a while, she saw a white corner of something sticking out from under the tray, and she carefully pulled it out. Pressed down on the tray is that photo. She took a deep breath and sat down on the ground, tongue-tied, still holding the photo in her hand.She seemed to be trapped in a tent, surrounded by ropes all over her body, and could hardly breathe.I didn't see a side of my mother that I didn't know until the morning the photo was taken, and Lindsay, like me at the time, had never seen that side of my mother.She had seen other photos in the negatives, of Mom looking tired but still smiling; of Mom and Halliday standing under the dogwood tree in front of the door, the sun streaming through the tops of the tree onto her nightgown, Sprinkle a little light and shadow.But I kept this candid photo private. Mom had a side of her that was mysterious and unknown to us, and only I saw it, and I didn't want to share it with anyone else. The first time I crossed the yin and yang world was purely accidental. The day was December 23, 1973. While Buckley was sleeping, Mom took Lindsey to the dentist.Everyone in the family agreed that week to try to carry on as usual, and Dad set himself the task of tidying up the upstairs guest room, which Dad used to use as his study. My grandfather taught my father to build sailboats out of empty glass bottles. My mother, sister and younger brother thought nothing of it, but I was very interested. There were glass bottles filled with sailboats everywhere in my father's study. Dad worked in an insurance company and was all about numbers, and after nights he liked to read books like the Civil War or build sailboats to relax.Whenever he was ready to sail, he always called me to help. At this time, the boat was firmly stuck to the bottom of the glass bottle. I ran into the study, and my father told me to close the door. Usually, as soon as I closed the door, my mother would ring the bell to call everyone to eat. I have a sixth sense, but if my mother's sixth sense fails and doesn't tell us to go down to eat, my task is to help my father hold the glass bottle. Straighten, Dad said: You are my first mate. A cotton thread was left on the mouth of the bottle, and my father pulled it gently, wow!Slowly the canvas was hoisted up the mast, the sailboat became a speedboat, and we were done.I want to clap my hands to celebrate every time, but I hold the glass bottle and have no hands to clap.Next, Dad used a candle to heat the straightened hanger, stretched the hanger into the glass bottle, and quickly burned the cotton thread in the bottle.He had to be very careful. If he was a little careless, the small paper sail in the bottle would catch fire, and even the glass bottle in my hand would burn into a big fireball with a bang. Dad later built a wooden frame to replace me. Lindsey and Buckley didn't like sailing like I did. Dad tried his best to interest them. After a few tries, Dad gave up and shut himself in the study.To the rest of our family, every sailboat in a glass bottle looks the same. That day my father was talking to me while tidying up the room. Suzy, my little girl, my dear sailor, said: You always liked the smaller sailboats. I watched Dad take the glass bottles from the bookshelves, line them up on the desk, and wipe the shelves with an old shirt that Mom had ripped into strips.There were dozens of empty bottles under the desk, which my father and daughter collected to build more boats.There are more glass bottles on the bookshelves, some made by my father and grandfather together, some made by my father alone, and some of our cooperation.Some of the ships are well preserved with only a slight yellowing of the sails, and some have been skewed and even turned upside down over the years.There is also a glass bottle on the shelf that caught fire in my hand a week before my accident. He was the first to smash the bottle to pieces. There was a throbbing pain in my heart.He turned his head to look at the other glass bottles, which were marked with years of memory, and the bottles could be seen with hands supporting the bottle mouth: the hands of his dead father, the hands of his dead daughter.I watched Dad smash the rest of the glass bottle, mumbled that Suzie was dead, smashed the glass bottle against the wall and wooden chairs, and when he was done, Dad was standing in the guest room-study, surrounded by green shards of glass.All the glass bottles were thrown to the ground, and the pieces of sails and ships were scattered among the broken glass bottles. My father stood blankly in the mess. At this time, I don’t know what happened, I appeared in front of my father , in every pane of glass, in every gleaming shard, my face can be seen.Dad looked down, carefully searching every corner of the room.It's incredible!But after a second, I was gone.He stood quietly for a while, then laughed loudly, the laughter came from the dantian, like the howling of a wild wolf.He laughed so hard and loudly that my whole body trembled when I was in heaven. He walked out of the study, walked across two rooms, and came to my bedroom.The upstairs passage is very narrow, and my door is as thin as the others, and can easily be punched through the door.He originally planned to smash the mirror of my dressing table and tear off the wallpaper on the wall with his nails, but instead of doing that, he squeezed the sheets tightly and sat down on the edge of my bed, weeping softly. He crumpled into a ball. dad?asked Buckley, who was standing at the door with one hand on the handle of my room. Dad turned his head, but couldn't hold back the tears. He grabbed the sheets and fell slowly to the ground, then he opened his arms and called Buckley to come over.Usually when he yelled, Barkley would run over, but this time he yelled twice, and Barkley still stood still.Although this never happened, the younger brother finally ran into his father's arms. Dad wrapped my little brother in the sheets, and the sheets still smelled of me.He remembers me begging him to paint my room purple, and helping me move back issues of National Geographic to the bottom row of my bookcase (I was determined to delve into the art of wildlife photography).He also remembered that I was the only child in the family, but Lindsay was born not long after. My little one, you are so special to me.Dad said, hugging Buckley tightly. Buckley withdrew and stared intently at his father's wrinkled face. The corners of his father's eyes were still stained with tears. Buckley kissed his father's cheek seriously, with a protective expression on his childish face; such a childish feeling So holy, even people in heaven can't do it. Dad wraps the sheet around Buckley's shoulders, and he remembers how I fell off the raised bed onto the soft rug sometimes in the middle of my sleep, the sound of me throwing him off the bed as he sat reading in the green chair in the study I was taken aback, and ran to my room to see what was going on, and was relieved when I saw that I was fine.He liked to see me sound asleep, and even though I had nightmares and even fell on the hard wooden floor, I was still sound asleep.At such a moment, he believes that the children will live happily in the future. Whether they want to be presidents, kings, artists, doctors, or wildlife photographers, children can do whatever they want. A few months before I passed away, my father watched me lying on the bed and sleeping soundly, but this time I had Buckley on my bed. Thumbs up.Dad had a strange feeling for the first time at that time. He thought that it is impossible for a father to live forever, and he suddenly felt a little sad.But he also thought that he had three children, and this number reassured him a little. He thought that no matter what happened to himself or the children's mother in the future, the three siblings would always have each other.From this point of view, he helped Shamon's family start, even in his dying years, Shamon's family is still like a strong steel wire, continuing continuously. He looked for the figure of his daughter in his younger son.He told himself loudly: Leave love to the living, but my ghost kept pulling him back like a rope.He looked at the little boy in his arms, who are you?He murmured: Where are you from? I looked at my father and younger brother, and thought that there was a big gap between the facts and what we learned in school.People in school say that there is a clear line between life and death. In fact, the line between the living and the dead sometimes seems hazy and indistinguishable.