本帖最后由 bright_helm 于 2010-8-23 11:50 编辑
二楼感谢sammy的辛苦手动录入英文，原文如下：
如果翻译的文章里有驴唇不对马嘴的地方，烦劳各位自行参看了，囧~~~
The Lost Dreamers —— Part One: Twilight Horror
1#
发表于 5 天前 | 只看该作者 | 倒序看帖 | 打印
BH，来吧。
by Nate French
As a young boy, Gregory Gry dreamed of making a name for himself in the Clover Club card room. His step-father, a reckless gambler with a taste for the bottle, would take young Gregory to the Club on an almost nightly basis. There the boy would wander the room and attempt to talk to the gruff men who were more interested in the booze, the waitresses, and the money at stake. Quickly, bored by the conversation, Gregory would simply pull up a chair at the loudest table and watch the game unfold.
Such was his youth, and as the years passed Gregory's knack for the game grew by leaps and bounds. Long before he was ever dealt his first hand, the boy was able to stare a man down and discern the meaning behind his bets.
As his father's love of bootleg whiskey overtook his love of cards, Gregory, then seventeen, began to make his way to the Clover Club on his own. To the bouncers, dealers, and serving-girls he was as familiar as the paintings on the walls, and there was no trouble in taking over his father's seat. The thrill of the cards, the money at stake, and the unspoken sense of illicit danger were seductive enough on their own, but it was the flirtatious gaze of a young woman that made it impossible for Gregory to stay away.
Katherine Price was her name, but in the Club she was Twila. A year or two older than Gregory, the rebellious daughter of a retired investigator was drawn in by the glamour of the Club. Throughout the night she would mingle with the gamblers, but her attention would always come back to a young, clean-cut man, hardly more than a boy, who had an uncanny feel for the game. More and more frequently, she would find herself at his table, watching him play, smiling with a vicarious thrill every time he took in a pot.
Gregory and Twila became friends. His winnings accumulated, and she convinced him to rent a room above the Club. Eventually, Twila became a fixture in Gregory's life, moving into his apartment and rarely leaving his side. For a short, fleeting moment, all seemed well in the world of Gregory Gry.
Charming and flirtatious in public, Twila-Katherine Price was brooding and mysterious in private. An art student at the nearby Miskatonic University, she worked obsessively on a painting she would never let anyone see. She did not offer an explanation for the secrecy and - perhaps to his credit - Gregory did not ask.
Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months, and Twila continued to work intently upon the mysterious painting, never seeming any closer to completion, and never seeming to notice the amount of time her task consumed. Gregory continued to excel in the Clover Club card room, but Twila grew more and more reclusive, rarely coming down to watch him play. Instead, she would paint, and, when she was not painting, it seemed that all she wanted to do was sleep, or complain about how tired she was. Gone was the lovely spark in her eye that once so attracted Gregory Gry.
Late one night, Gregory woke to find Twila painting by candle-light in her usual corner of their room. Startled by the scene, he rose from the bed and took a step toward her, but she drew a shielding curtain across her easel, stepped in front of his path, and turned him back to bed.
"Twila, dear, are you OK?" he asked. "You've been so tired, and now you're up painting..."
"I want to go back," she said, sitting down next to him on the bed and putting a hand on his shoulder. "I want to go back. I can't stand it anymore."
"Go back? You mean to your father's?" he asked. "Are you unhappy?"
"No. Not there. Of course not. That's the last place I'd want to go." Her gaze wandered over to the painting in the corner of the room, and then darted back to Gregory's face. "We need to get a cat. They're not happy with me, and I don't know if they can come up the stairs as easily as I can descend..."
"Twila, what are you saying? Is someone in the Club upset with you? I... why a cat? You're not making any sense."
"You wouldn't understand. You've never been there. You haven't seen"
"I still don't-"
"The Dreamlands, Gregory! I go there, every night. Sometimes, this world... I wish I never came back." Her eyes were once again alight. "You didn't really think I was tired all the time, did you? It's just... I wanted so much to dream..." She stared again at the painting in the corner.
"Twila? I still don't get it. You're telling me that these dreams are-"
"They're not just dreams! It's a real place, called the Dreamlands. Imagine a vision, but more intense, and when you wake up it's like coming down from a rush, and all your sensations are just a shadow of what you know they could be... you'll see, Gregory." She smiled, a cold, distant smile. "Then you'll understand."
"So you're saying you'd rather spend your time asleep, dreaming about these, these Dreamlands, than being awake and alive and... I thought we were happy. I thought we were in love. Do you really want to run away from everything we have, because of a dream?"
"I didn't say that, Gregory. And I don't have to make that choice. You can come with me, instead."
