Wind Between the Planks- 適合中高級的英語短篇故事

Pine resin, sharp and slightly sweet, coated Rafael’s fingertips as a gray squirrel flicked across the half-built platform and vanished into the leaves. A single nail had been chosen from the box earlier, yet the branch under the plank felt harder than stone. He had positioned the board flush against the ridged limb, but the first tap bent the nail sideways, scraping his knuckle. Wind rushed again; the planks flexed, and a cold shiver travelled through the rough bark. Rafael straightened, letting the hammer hang by his leg. If the wind calmed, the plank would stay level, he thought, but another gust sent a tiny ripple through every loose twig above him.

He crossed to the rope-ladder passage and lowered the bucket. Nora, waiting in the backyard courtyard below, filled it with a surplus plank and a folded picnic quilt. While he hauled the load, the ladder swayed and the bucket thudded a steady rhythm against the trunk. Rafael unhooked the new board first, sliding its smooth edge along the damp platform floor, then tucked the quilt over a knotty patch so his knees would not slip. Between gusts he retied a loose rung, the rough rope fibers scraping his palms. Leaves flipped pale side up, then down again, the movement rising to a brief green crescendo before falling quiet. From this height he spotted concentric garden beds beyond the fence; each bed’s dark soil showed a faint ripple where the breeze skimmed across it.

While he measured the fresh plank, the bent nail, bumped by the wind, rolled back into view and stopped at his boot. He pressed the board a finger’s width toward softer grain, held the nail upright, and delivered three even strokes; the metal slid deeper without protest. The platform stilled between breaths of wind. Rafael gathered the straight nails that remained, climbed to the branch junction, and passed half of them down to Nora, keeping the rest in his own chalk-dusted palm.

松脂帶著微甜而刺鼻的香味黏在拉斐爾的指尖，灰松鼠在半成的平台上閃過，隨即鑽進樹葉之間。一根釘子早先已從盒中取出，但木板下的枝幹硬得像石頭。他把木板推平靠在帶脊的枝條上，可第一下錘擊就把釘子折彎，還擦疼了指關節。風又衝過來，木板微彎，粗糙的樹皮傳來冰涼顫動。拉斐爾直起身，把錘子垂在腿邊。若風靜下來，木板就能保持水平，他這麼想，可又一陣風吹起，鬆散的細枝整齊地掀起一道細波。

他走到繩梯口，放下吊桶。等在後院天井的諾拉把多餘的木板和一條野餐被墊放好後裝進桶裡。他把桶拉上來時，繩梯搖晃，桶不斷撞擊樹幹，發出有節奏的悶聲。拉斐爾先取出新的木板，讓光滑邊緣貼著潮濕的平台地板滑行，再把被墊鋪在結節多的區域，以免膝蓋打滑。風隙之間，他重新綁緊一截鬆動的橫檔，粗繩纖維磨擦手掌。樹葉翻成淺面又折回，動靜先是累積成一片綠色的高峰，隨後歸於平息。從這高度望去，圍籬外一圈圈花圃的深色土面，因微風吹過而顯出淡淡漣漪。

他量好新木板的同時，那枚被風推動的彎釘又滾回腳邊停住。他把木板移向較軟的紋理，扶正釘子，連續三下均勻錘擊，金屬無聲地深入。兩次呼吸的空隙裡，平台保持靜穩。拉斐爾攏起剩下的直釘，爬到枝叉處，一半交到諾拉手裡，另一半留在自己帶粉塵的手心。