Scar Left by the Fountain Turtle- 適合中高級的英語短篇故事

"Sketchbook ready?" Orla asked.

Xavier unzipped his canvas bag and drew out a freshly sharpened graphite pencil carefully between fingers. The stone bench felt warm through his jeans, while the passing breeze carried cool mist from the cascading bowls. He knew every carved leaf around the top basin, so today's task looked simple: capture those gentle curves swiftly. Glare from high noon sunlight bounced off the water and turned the surface into restless mirrors hiding the fine lines. When Xavier leaned forward for a clearer view, spray settled on his page and dampened the fresh cotton fibres immediately. Even the graphite smudged across the moist surface, blurring what had started as straight, confident ridges of shading. He rose, edged toward the fountain rim, and placed the sketchbook upon Orla's folded fleece jacket for steadier support.

Up close, he searched for the small bronze turtle that usually perched beside the steady overflow of water. Only a pale, slippery scar showed where metal feet had once pressed themselves firmly into smooth limestone. He walked the rim in slow steps, fingertips gliding over damp ridges until another scar mirrored the quiet disappearance. Coins below twirled lazily when the pump paused, and the calmer water widened reflections of all those missing figures. If he had kept forcing the old plan, the smudged page would have shown only tangled outlines and a ghost turtle. Instead, the pale scars and watermarks formed a fresh pattern, like staggered leaves from an unnoticed harvest of passing time. Xavier sketched their rough edges from memory on the dry bench, then crossed back for sharper angles during each quiet lull. Pigeons busied themselves in relaxed revelry near his shoes, pecking crumbs while visitors admired nature's bounty around the hedge. The final bright rainbow fragment slowly slid across his freshly finished thin grey pencil lines. A stray copper coin rolled from Orla's sleeve and settled snugly inside the sketchbook fold.

「畫冊好了嗎？」奧拉問。

薩維爾拉開帆布包的拉鍊，小心地用指尖夾出一枝削得尖尖的石墨鉛筆。石椅透過牛仔褲傳來溫熱，微風卻把從層層水盆落下的涼霧吹到他身上。他對最上層水盆周圍的每片雕刻葉紋都瞭若指掌，所以今天的目標看來很簡單：迅速描下那些柔和曲線。正午陽光從水面反射出刺眼光斑，把細部完全遮住。薩維爾前傾想看得更清楚，噴霧卻落在紙上，瞬間浸濕棉質紙纖。石墨在濕面上糊開，原本俐落的陰影線條全被抹成模糊。於是他站起來，靠到噴泉寬緣，把畫冊放在奧拉折好的搖粒絨外套上，好讓它更穩。

走近後，他尋找往常伏在溢水口旁的小銅龜，但眼前只有一條蒼白又滑的疤痕，顯示金屬足印曾緊壓在平滑石灰岩上。他沿著石緣慢慢移動，手指掠過濕潤凹凸，又見到另一條相同的痕跡。水泵暫停時，下面的錢幣懶懶旋轉，平靜水面把那些消失的雕像倒影拉得更寬。若他堅持原先構圖，畫面只會留下糊成一團的線條和一隻幽靈烏龜。反而，這些疤痕與水痕組成新圖案，像是時間悄悄收成後錯落的葉片。薩維爾回到乾椅上憑記憶勾畫粗邊，每逢水流稍歇又走回石緣修補銳角。鴿子在他鞋邊悠閒宴樂，啄食遊客落下的碎屑，同時人們讚嘆綠籬散出的自然饋贈。最後一抹明亮彩虹斑緩緩滑過他剛完成的灰細鉛筆線。奧拉袖口滑出一枚銅幣，正巧停在畫冊摺縫裡。