English Original
The sun was unusually strong as it streamed across Michael's face, waking him gently. There was a surreal stillness filling the room as Michael lay still, trying to work out which day it was. It felt as if he had only just lain down, but the room was hot and stuffy with the bright warmth of the sun. It was quiet and the mirror opposite him was reflecting the light into his eyes. He squinted, looking at the image of the door behind him. Something was moving, but he couldn't see what. He sat up, his stomach strangely tight, and his breathing cautious. Michael felt the warmth leave his back. Shadows crept into the room as the sun hid behind the clouds that now filled the sky. Michael turned back to the mirror, and saw the blurred outline of his mother in the doorway. Smiling with relief, he turned around - and stared.
Empty sockets stared back, devoid of anything but filmy membranes across distant juicing flesh. Long, skeletal bones reached out, the remains of muscles clinging to the forearm. Skin covered her shoulders and legs, peeling off in random layers around her joints, and veins stretched over the mottled, translucent skin of her face as the bloody stump of her mouth spread into a smile. "Hello, darling."
Michael watched, frozen in horror. A bony white hand reached out, the nails ripped off revealing the tattered tissue beneath. The fingers stroked down his cheek, leaving a stripe of bloody mucus. He looked up, his eyes connecting with the empty pits of what was his mother's gaze. His stomach lurched; he fell out of bed, scrambling madly across the room. He did not try to understand, or to make it right. This was not his mother. This was not his life. Michael launched himself at the window, his mother's fingers scraping his neck. He grabbed randomly behind him; as the glass shattered around him, his hand caught a grip on bloody, matted hair. It ripped away from her as he flailed through the air.
He smashed onto the concrete driveway.
Michael's mother slammed the brakes as the body of her son landed in front of her. She leapt from the car and fell to her knees by him, sobbing in shock and confusion. There was no need to look for a pulse. She collapsed over him and cried until neighbors dragged her back from the scene of flashing fluorescent lights.
The police prepared to leave the grisly scene in less than an hour, but the Chief Inspector stood silent on the driveway. He looked from the body bag being loaded effortlessly into the ambulance to the fragmented window above him, then to the crimson hair he now held in his hand.
Michael was the fifth to die that month.
中文翻译
阳光异常强烈地扫过迈克尔的脸，将他从睡梦中轻轻唤醒。房间里弥漫着一种超现实的寂静，迈克尔静静地躺着，努力回想今天是哪一天。感觉仿佛他才刚躺下不久，但房间已被阳光的明亮热量烘烤得又热又闷。四周很安静，对面的镜子将光线反射进他的眼睛。他眯起眼，看着镜中身后门的影像。有什么东西在动，但他看不清。他坐起身，胃部奇怪地紧绷着，呼吸也变得小心翼翼。迈克尔感到背上的温暖消失了。太阳躲进了此刻布满天空的云层后，阴影悄悄爬进了房间。迈克尔转回身看向镜子，看到了门口母亲模糊的轮廓。他释然地微笑着转过身——然后，他呆住了。
空洞的眼窝回望着他，里面空无一物，只有一层朦胧的薄膜覆盖在远处多汁的肉体上。细长的骨架伸了出来，前臂上还残留着肌肉。皮肤覆盖着她的肩膀和双腿，在关节周围不规则地层层剥落，血管在她斑驳、半透明的脸上延伸，而她血淋淋的残破嘴巴咧开成一个微笑。“你好，亲爱的。”
迈克尔看着，恐惧得僵住了。一只苍白、骨瘦如柴的手伸了出来，指甲被撕掉，露出下面破烂的组织。手指抚过他的脸颊，留下一道血色的黏液。他抬起头，目光与那曾经是母亲凝视的空洞眼眶相遇。他的胃一阵翻腾；他摔下床，发疯般地在房间里爬行。他不想去理解，也不想纠正什么。这不是他的母亲。这不是他的生活。迈克尔猛地扑向窗户，母亲的手指刮过他的脖子。他在身后胡乱一抓；玻璃在他周围碎裂，他的手抓住了一缕血迹斑斑、缠结在一起的头发。当他在空中挥舞着坠落时，头发从她头上被扯了下来。
他重重地摔在水泥车道上。
迈克尔的尸体落在她车前，她猛地踩下刹车。她跳下车，跪倒在他身边，震惊而困惑地抽泣着。无需检查脉搏。她瘫倒在他身上哭泣，直到邻居们将她从闪烁的荧光灯现场拖走。
警察准备在一小时内离开这可怕的现场，但探长静静地站在车道上。他的目光从被毫不费力地装入救护车的裹尸袋，移到他上方破碎的窗户，再移到他手中现在握着的那缕深红色头发。
迈克尔是那个月第五个死去的人。