Pages Carried by Wind- 適合中高級的英語短篇故事

Cruz rapped the weather-vane pole, but the arrow refused to shift from west. Cloud shadows slid east across the compass rose, and beside him Janet, the science teacher, counted their speed. For the afternoon entry in the downstairs logbook, Cruz needed a reliable wind direction reading. He tore a narrow strip from a spare notebook page that had been left blank and folded it in half. After that, he clipped it firmly to the vane’s tail to increase the wind’s grip. The paper fluttered like a small sail, and a mild gust did nudge the arrow several degrees. Feeling the shift, he hoped for tangible results once the numbers finally reached the logbook downstairs. The extra surface had potential to loosen the sticky bearing completely, yet the arrow still paused in weak lulls.

Still wanting more force, Cruz made a gesture toward Janet, asking for another strip of paper. The second sheet was clipped over the first, creating a wider fin that caught the next rush of air. He had already secured the first strip, so the second now nested firmly against it. The arrow whipped hard, squeak fading under sudden speed, and the gust poured down the open stairwell. Below, the draft carried the spinning hum inside, flipped two logbook pages, and rolled a pencil across the desk. To calm the storm, Cruz laid a heavy ruler over the fluttering pages, another addition that seemed sensible. The ruler’s weight, however, bent the open logbook so its front edge drooped over the desk. The whole book began sliding inch by inch toward the floor while the wind still chased through the stairwell.

He caught the ruler just before it tipped off the desk edge, then paused to consider the chain he had built. Three quick breaths later, he removed the middle strip from the vane’s tail, letting the first sheet remain alone. With far less weight, the arrow balanced at last; even small gusts now turned it smoothly without jerks. Back inside, he propped the stairwell door halfway, narrowing the path for air and calming the pages. He laid a lighter pencil across the top and copied the fresh west-northwest reading, the digits lining up neatly. Stepping onto the deck again, he saw clear sunlight lying bright on the compass rose beneath the vane. A thin shadow wheeled across the faded north point while the arrow glided toward a fresh gust.

克魯茲用指節敲了敲風向標的金屬桿，但箭頭依舊固執地指向西方。雲影在羅盤玫瑰上向東滑動，他身旁的理科老師珍妮特正數著雲層移動的速度。下午要在樓下的紀錄簿寫下數據，克魯茲需要一個可信的風向讀數。他撕下一條空白筆記紙，對摺後夾在風向標尾端，好讓風力增加。紙條像小風帆一樣抖動，一陣微風把箭頭推了幾度。他感到金屬稍微轉動，希望等數字寫進簿子時能看到具體成果。然而，即使多了這片面積，箭頭在微弱空檔仍停滯不前。

為了更大推力，克魯茲向珍妮特做了個手勢，要了第二條紙。第二片紙扣在第一片上，變成更寬的尾翼，下一股風一到就把箭頭猛然甩動，尖銳聲音瞬間消失。第一片已經夾緊，第二片現在牢牢貼在上面。強風沿著開放的樓梯井灌進室內，樓下的風杯轟響著，加速翻過兩頁紀錄紙，還把一支鉛筆滾過書桌。為了壓住飄動的紙，克魯茲把一把沉尺擺在頁面上，這似乎是個合理的補救。不過尺子的重量壓彎了打開的簿本，前沿懸在桌外，整本書在氣流中一點點往地板滑去。

他及時抓住尺子，停下動作思考自己造成的連鎖。幾次急促呼吸後，他把中間那片紙從尾翼拆下，只留第一片。重量減少後，箭頭終於平衡；即便小股微風也能順暢帶動旋轉。他回到室內，把樓梯口的門半掩，風道變窄，紙頁安靜下來。他橫放一支較輕的鉛筆固定頁面，抄寫新的西北偏西讀數，數字整齊對齊。再次踏上甲板時，他看見陽光照亮風向標下的羅盤玫瑰。一道細長影子繞著褪色的北點轉動，而箭頭正滑向下一陣新風。