1215 重奖译书 《手》爆有难度的（终于完成了）

seanfx

《手》

恐怖故事

新手勿妄动


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The Hand by Frederick Von Hapsgood






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{1321}{37l  Introductory Note
Dear reader, what you hold in your hands is the result of arduous labor on behalf of myself and apprentice staff. Long have the private journals of Frederick Von Hapsgood been rumored and it was but four short years ago that it came into my possession, delivered to me by Professor Hapsgood's long-time servant of thirty years.  As you well know, Professor Hapsgood was known for writing in a scrawl unbeknownst to many circles, and it is this very aspect that I have labored over, carefully arranging his scrawl into something resembling flowing prose. I am pleased to present the first of many parts to come, in this, the Volume Obscura of Professor Frederick Von Hapsgood.
  F.V.H, 1843}
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What I am about to relate defies conventional logic, to be sure, yet I can only stand by and insist to its validity. If you will cast this aside as the rambling of an ancient soul who perhaps should have been buried years ago, that is your judgement. Those that have either been in my employ or have been unfortunate enough to call me a friend know all too well that I do not dabble in fiction. With that futile disclaimer behind me, allow me to relate the events of my visit to Tarant, in the year 1792.
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Bonfires of the downtrodden illuminated the horizon like morbid stars. Poor souls seeking any warmth they could muster. Snow blanketed the landscape in every direction, a freezing chill whipping past gothic structures. Even the gargoyles, rooted in their stone beds, seemed chilled to the bone. It was this auspicious weather that marked my arrival to Tarant in the dead of night, and while at first it appeared to be my lead story, soon it was discarded for the rather strange event that soon took place.
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It began with an argument that grew louder as I grew nearer. An elderly man with more lines eroding his face than mine was engaged in a rather hostile tussle with a well-built lad. Of what they argued, I know not, for as I drew within range, the words de-evolved into physical attacks. The old man proved my initial suspicions correct when he unleashed tendrils of fire that struck everything but his opponent. Buildings erupted in flame, upside being more heat for a dreadfully cold midnight. Villagers ran in every direction, screaming nonsensical words, as the young nemesis of the old man unleashed a sword of steel. If I were to get involved, it would have proved too late, as the next second found the young man cleaving through the old wizard with a deft and assured strike. I shall spare you the gruesome result that transpired next, save that it involved the severing of a head.  I expected the corpse of the wizard to be ransacked for possessions, but the young man simply stuffed the head in a brown bag and ran off like an apparition, leaving me alone, surrounded by crackling buildings and a vacant street.
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The headless body of the old wizard lay before me. Try as I could to avert my gaze and press on with my journey, I failed. The lure of the corpse was too much. I approached, tentatively at first and then with a quickened pace, lest someone return and find me lurking with potential blame. It was then that I saw the index finger of his right hand. Nearby flames cast a glint off its metallic structure and I knelt to observe closer. His entire finger was no finger at all. Instead, a black appendage seemingly made of steel. The lure was intense, I tell you, and I fear I can offer no satisfying excuse for what I did next. Using my knife, I attempted to pry the metallic casing off, thinking it a cowl for the actual finger beneath. This proved futile as the substance resisted all attempts at penetration.  I'm afraid I must admit to doing something rather gruesome, as I then began to slice at the wrist in an attempt to remove the entire hand. This proved successful, despite my rising nausea. I know not what possessed me to do so. I stuffed the hand into my backpack as the overwhelming sensation of being observed defined itself and my next ambition was to remove myself from sight as soon as possible.  
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Quickly, I traipsed through the snow to find my hotel and, more importantly, a shot of aged scotch. This desire did not manifest. Instead, my hasty journey was interrupted by the horrific sensation of something moving within my backpack. Fearing the worst and knowing it to be so, I threw the backpack from my shoulder like one would throw a book featuring an uninvited spider resting upon the cover. To my horror, the flap of the backpack flew open and emerging with purpose was the very hand I had severed! There is no greater motivation than being pursued by a demonic hand, and it was this feeling that carried me blindly through the alleys of Tarant, too full of fear to even muster a scream of help. Damn the dead-end that soon appeared, leaving me nowhere to go! The hand approached and I froze with fright, a feeling I wish upon no one.  A statue I became, a human gargoyle of sorts, observing with dread as the hand drew near and began ascending my right leg. Before I could even contemplate my impending demise, the hand had absconded with my very own knife and this realization proved too much, as I then crumpled to the snow, fainting from fright.
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The very act of awakening from such a nightmare was a treasure in itself, though the initial joy of the occasion was soon replaced with outright disgust, as near to me, jutting up from the snow, was my severed hand. Resigning myself to what I knew to be true, I looked at where I should have had a stump, only to find the old man's hand in its place, black steel finger full of silent mockery.  
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To this day I do not know the power residing within this hand. All attempts at prying and poking have met with zero information. I can only hope that this entry puts to rest the years of speculation as to how I came about sporting such an odd appendage. Of all the stories I have heard, none are more strange than the actual event. Isn't that always the case?  
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Professor Frederick Von Hapsgood, 1802
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seanfx

好！顶上去

seanfx

之前我也这么想，后来发现是错了

seanfx

nice job!

seanfx

{1321}{37l  Introductory Note
Dear reader, what you hold in your hands is the result of arduous labor on behalf of myself and apprentice staff. Long have the private journals of Frederick Von Hapsgood been rumored and it was but four short years ago that it came into my possession, delivered to me by Professor Hapsgood's long-time servant of thirty years.  As you well know, Professor Hapsgood was known for writing in a scrawl unbeknownst to many circles, and it is this very aspect that I have labored over, carefully arranging his scrawl into something resembling flowing prose. I am pleased to present the first of many parts to come, in this, the Volume Obscura of Professor Frederick Von Hapsgood.
  F.V.H, 1843}

为什么是他自己的署名呢？

seanfx

定稿



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The Hand by Frederick Von Hapsgood弗雷德里克·冯·哈普斯古德著《手》


——Baby2head和Xq_261翻译









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{1321}{37l  Introductory Note介绍

    Dear reader, what you hold in your hands is the result of arduous labor on behalf of myself and apprentice staff. Long have the private journals of Frederick Von Hapsgood been rumored and it was but four short years ago that it came into my possession, delivered to me by Professor Hapsgood's long-time servant of thirty years.  As you well know, Professor Hapsgood was known for writing in a scrawl unbeknownst to many circles, and it is this very aspect that I have labored over, carefully arranging his scrawl into something resembling flowing prose. I am pleased to present the first of many parts to come, in this, the Volume Obscura of Professor Frederick Von Hapsgood.亲爱的读者，你手中拿着的可是我和我的助手艰苦工作的心血结晶。有关弗雷德里克·冯·哈普斯古德的个人日记，外界一直有很多谣言，直到四年前，一位服务了哈普斯古德教授足足三十年的仆人将这本日记交到了我的手上。而众所周知，哈普斯古德教授平时的稿子就写得有如鬼画符，业内也几乎无人能识…要在那一大堆的龙飞凤舞的日记之中抽丝剥茧加以修饰成为一篇流畅自然的散文往往需要反复检查斟酌-----这也是我们工作遇到的主要难题之一。废话少说，现在很高兴为阁下奉上弗雷德里克·冯·哈普斯古德教授的“朦胧手卷”中的第一篇精彩故事。

     弗雷德里克·冯·哈普斯古德，1843年}

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    What I am about to relate defies conventional logic, to be sure, yet I can only stand by and insist to its validity. If you will cast this aside as the rambling of an ancient soul who perhaps should have been buried years ago, that is your judgement. Those that have either been in my employ or have been unfortunate enough to call me a friend know all too well that I do not dabble in fiction. With that futile disclaimer behind me, allow me to relate the events of my visit to Tarant, in the year 1792. 的确，接下来我要说的事有违常理，但我仍然执意要说出来，因为我所写的每个字都绝对是真实的。当然，如果你硬要将这段故事当作一个古墓冤魂的胡诌而不屑一顾，那是你自己的事。不过我相信，无论是我的属下，还是那些“不幸”成为我朋友的人都知道我在创作时从来没有信口开河的习惯。闲言少叙，以下请与我一起去到1792年，那时的我身在一个叫塔伦特的城市。
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    Bonfires of the downtrodden illuminated the horizon like morbid stars. Poor souls seeking any warmth they could muster. Snow blanketed the landscape in every direction, a freezing chill whipping past gothic structures. Even the gargoyles, rooted in their stone beds, seemed chilled to the bone. It was this auspicious weather that marked my arrival to Tarant in the dead of night, and while at first it appeared to be my lead story, soon it was discarded for the rather strange event that soon took place. 远方隐现的篝火如残星般点缀着地平线，仿佛万物都在渴求着温暖。四下大雪茫茫，覆盖了每个旮旯，彻骨的寒风鞭笞着旧式的哥特建筑，即使是石板上雕饰的怪兽也能感受到透骨之寒。而我就在这么一个犹如死寂般的夜晚抵达塔伦特，这可真是一个不错的好故事。然而，不久后却发生了更诡异莫测的事。
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    It began with an argument that grew louder as I grew nearer. An elderly man with more lines eroding his face than mine was engaged in a rather hostile tussle with a well-built lad. Of what they argued, I know not, for as I drew within range, the words de-evolved into physical attacks. The old man proved my initial suspicions correct when he unleashed tendrils of fire that struck everything but his opponent. Buildings erupted in flame, upside being more heat for a dreadfully cold midnight. Villagers ran in every direction, screaming nonsensical words, as the young nemesis of the old man unleashed a sword of steel. If I were to get involved, it would have proved too late, as the next second found the young man cleaving through the old wizard with a deft and assured strike. I shall spare you the gruesome result that transpired next, save that it involved the severing of a head.  I expected the corpse of the wizard to be ransacked for possessions, but the young man simply stuffed the head in a brown bag and ran off like an apparition, leaving me alone, surrounded by crackling buildings and a vacant street. 故事的真正开端是两个陌生人的一场吵架，随着我越走越近，他们越吵越凶-----一位有了年纪的、脸上的皱纹比我还多的先生和一位体型健壮的年青人争执得很凶。争论的原委实在无从得知，在我走进他们身边的时候，这场你来我往的口水仗变成了一场血腥的殴斗。那个老人的行动立即就证明了我最初的判断是正确的-----他施法操纵火龙四处喷射，但始终没有击中对面的年青人。很快的，整间建筑都变得火光熊熊，即使是这个寒风凛冽的夜晚也未能抵消火焰的灼热。人们开始哇哇尖叫，争相走避，就在这时，老人的对手-----那个小伙子亮出了自己的利剑。这时候，就算我想上前劝解亦太迟了-----仅仅在下一秒小伙子就干净利落的一击了结了那个老巫师。对于接下来那些血腥无比的事还是略过不提了，总之，小伙子将巫师的头颅割了下来。我原本还以为他会将巫师的身上搜掠一番，可是小伙子只将那个头颅放进一个棕色口袋里，然后就像幽灵般的消失无踪了。街上空无一人，只留下我站在被火烧得啪啪发响的大楼里。
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    The headless body of the old wizard lay before me. Try as I could to avert my gaze and press on with my journey, I failed. The lure of the corpse was too much. I approached, tentatively at first and then with a quickened pace, lest someone return and find me lurking with potential blame. It was then that I saw the index finger of his right hand. Nearby flames cast a glint off its metallic structure and I knelt to observe closer. His entire finger was no finger at all. Instead, a black appendage seemingly made of steel. The lure was intense, I tell you, and I fear I can offer no satisfying excuse for what I did next. Using my knife, I attempted to pry the metallic casing off, thinking it a cowl for the actual finger beneath. This proved futile as the substance resisted all attempts at penetration.  I'm afraid I must admit to doing something rather gruesome, as I then began to slice at the wrist in an attempt to remove the entire hand. This proved successful, despite my rising nausea. I know not what possessed me to do so. I stuffed the hand into my backpack as the overwhelming sensation of being observed defined itself and my next ambition was to remove myself from sight as soon as possible. 现在那个无头巫师的遗体就躺在我的眼前，虽然我竭力克制着去看那个尸体的想法，虽然我努力想抬脚走开继续我的旅程，但我失败了。尸体的诱惑实在是太大。我先是慢慢踱步，然后竟然箭步如飞地跑近尸体，惟恐有人跑来并责备我这个旁观者。我看到了巫师右手的食指，在火光的照耀下，它居然反射着奇怪的，金属般的光芒。在俯下身子进一步检查后，我发现他的手指其实根本就不是手指，而是一截黑色的似乎是铁制的假指。坦白的说，当时诱惑冲昏了我的头脑，而本人也不打算为自己接下来的行为开脱了。我以为这截玩意是戴在真手指上的套子，所以想用小刀试着将这个金属部分撬出来，但那物质坚硬无比，撬了半天还是丝毫不动。这样的话跟着就不得不采用一些更恶心的方法了，我用尽全身力气把巫师的手腕割断，虽然期间恶心得我快要把昨天的饭都呕出来，但最后还是成功了，我终于拿到了那个“东东”。忍着强烈的恶心，我将那只手放进了行李袋然后以最快的速度逃离了那里。
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    Quickly, I traipsed through the snow to find my hotel and, more importantly, a shot of aged scotch. This desire did not manifest. Instead, my hasty journey was interrupted by the horrific sensation of something moving within my backpack. Fearing the worst and knowing it to be so, I threw the backpack from my shoulder like one would throw a book featuring an uninvited spider resting upon the cover. To my horror, the flap of the backpack flew open and emerging with purpose was the very hand I had severed! There is no greater motivation than being pursued by a demonic hand, and it was this feeling that carried me blindly through the alleys of Tarant, too full of fear to even muster a scream of help. Damn the dead-end that soon appeared, leaving me nowhere to go! The hand approached and I froze with fright, a feeling I wish upon no one.  A statue I became, a human gargoyle of sorts, observing with dread as the hand drew near and began ascending my right leg. Before I could even contemplate my impending demise, the hand had absconded with my very own knife and this realization proved too much, as I then crumpled to the snow, fainting from fright.很快的，我踏着茫茫大雪去寻找旅馆，我还打算去买一支陈年威士忌。我也不知道为什么要喝酒。就在这短暂的路途上――我忽然有一种可怕的感觉，背后的行李包里有东西在动！天啊，我心里非常清楚是什么东西，出于本能，我扔掉了手中的行李袋，就像一个人害怕地丢掉一本封面爬着蜘蛛的书。恐惧的是，我的行李袋从内打开了，那只我用刀子割断的手立时蹦了出来。世界上没有比被一只邪魔的手所追杀更能激发人的逃跑能力了，抱着这种恐惧感，我豕突狼奔地窜过塔伦特的大街小巷，我甚至都惊恐地一句尖叫都喊不出来。妈的！我居然跑到了一条死胡同，这下子无路可逃，彻底完了！那只手一步步的靠近，我吓得呆若木鸡，谁都不希望有这样的感觉。此时的我已经和一尊雕像无异，就像那些建筑上的石像鬼那样肢体僵硬，一动不动。至于那只手，则开始慢慢的从右腿爬了上来，就在我茫然等死之时，我看到了那只手居然拿着我自己的刀！在这一刹那间，心理崩溃的我不支倒地，昏迷于寒冷的大雪之中。
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    The very act of awakening from such a nightmare was a treasure in itself, though the initial joy of the occasion was soon replaced with outright disgust, as near to me, jutting up from the snow, was my severed hand. Resigning myself to what I knew to be true, I looked at where I should have had a stump, only to find the old man's hand in its place, black steel finger full of silent mockery. 能够从这个恐怖的噩梦中醒来真不啻为一桩幸事，才高兴了几秒，然后我就很快就发现了那只手――那只被我亲自割开的手从我身边的雪地露出来，我又惊又怕。整顿情绪之后，我相信了眼前的事实，我的一只小腿不见了，那个老人的手嫁接在断口处！黑色的钢手指充满了无声的嘲笑。
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    To this day I do not know the power residing within this hand. All attempts at prying and poking have met with zero information. I can only hope that this entry puts to rest the years of speculation as to how I came about sporting such an odd appendage. Of all the stories I have heard, none are more strange than the actual event. Isn't that always the case?  直到现在，我也不知道蕴藏在那只手里的到底是什么力量。我撬过，我掘过，都不能去除掉它。我只希望上面这些故事，能够为多年来那些关于“我是怎么弄了这么一个奇怪假肢”的风言风语画上一个句号。在我所听说的故事中没有比这个我亲历的故事更奇怪的了，造化不就是总喜欢这样弄人的吗？
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    弗雷德里克·冯·哈普斯古德教授，1802年
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seanfx

估计是bug