美国恐怖故事第一季

感觉有点草草结尾啊。

本来上星期看完e11感觉碉堡了，但到这集没有上集高能，甚至没有万圣节那集高能。

设想中本集应该把最后所有的包袱都解开，与前11集呼应而成一个完整的故事。

为什么这件房子里凶案频发？

当然自Harmon一家搬进来以后很多都是旧鬼作恶，尤其是Tate和Hyden。

但之前呢？

大丽花、护士、乃至constance的各种悲剧，我个人只能归于风水不好来解释。

上两集说了很多房子已经装不下更多鬼魂，以及房子锁住鬼魂的奇异力量。

我本来还以为房子会超负荷爆掉（囧）或者说说这股力量的来由，但是没有。

可能是我看的不仔细，但女仆的对哈蒙桑的美人计其实是为了什么？

如果是为了尸骨埋在房子草坪，想入土为安，那其他死在房子的人尸体被搬走了（如哈蒙夫妇）也离不开这屋啊。

再说想移走尸身，随便找些理由翻开草地，告诉Harmon，让他叫人处理骸骨就行了吧。

另外为什么她有变老的一面而其他鬼不会？

渲染了很久的夺子大战没有出现。

Hyden杀Harmon时倒是挺利索的，直到跟constance对飚放狠话时也气场十足，但是男模轻轻一刀加上痴心的微笑，孩子就到康姨手里了。

泄气啊有木有。

话说没看出来男模这么痴心啊。

Nora怨念母亲的形象本来很打动人心，以致Tate大开杀戒，强奸Vivien来为她争取个孩子，都让人觉得虽天理难容，但情有可原，有点柯南式的连环杀手其实往往是为了至亲报仇的唏嘘。

但到了这集，这位怨念的母亲，竟然富太太病发作，嫌孩子烦，就这么把孩子给回Vivien，末了女仆还吐槽了一句“她根本不是当妈的料”。

泄气啊有木有。

我顿时觉得基友二人组死得还真冤。

回过头来，Addy这么出彩的角色，用来说明一下死在屋外就不能还魂就从本剧消失了。

轻轻的走，连云彩一片也没带走啊。

我觉得还是可惜了。

Tate对校园枪击的事什么时候幡然醒悟的？

万圣节那天他还真心认不出受害者啊。

Violet的爱？

没有交代清楚。

还以为Harmon的治疗会让他想起自己的恶行。

而且屠杀校园时也没有化骷髅妆，前几集的闪回骷髅造型只是为了说明Tate的内心反社会啊。

最后happy ending，一家人从此永远幸福快乐地在一起。

是为了圣诞节，所以变成美国温馨故事？

个人认为e11的人鬼殊途，永失挚爱更令人痛心。

吐槽了这么多，都不能否认这部剧之精彩新颖。

语气轻佻，纯属说笑，绝无恶意，希望没有冒犯你心目中的好剧。

（by Charlotte Perkins Gilman）It is very seldom that mere ordinary people like John and myself secure ancestral halls for the summer.A colonial mansion, a hereditary estate, I would say a haunted house, and reach the height of romantic felicity--but that would be asking too much of fate!Still I will proudly declare that there is something queer about it.Else, why should it be let so cheaply? And why have stood so long untenanted?John laughs at me, of course, but one expects that in marriage.John is practical in the extreme. He has no patience with faith, an intense horror of superstition, and he scoffs openly at any talk of things not to be felt and seen and put down in figures.John is a physician, and PERHAPS--(I would not say it to a living soul, of course, but this is dead paper and a great relief to my mind)--PERHAPS that is one reason I do not get well faster.You see he does not believe I am sick!And what can one do?If a physician of high standing, and one's own husband, assures friends and relatives that there is really nothing the matter with one but temporary nervous depression--a slight hysterical tendency--what is one to do?My brother is also a physician, and also of high standing, and he says the same thing.So I take phosphates or phosphites--whichever it is, and tonics, and journeys, and air, and exercise, and am absolutely forbidden to "work" until I am well again.Personally, I disagree with their ideas.Personally, I believe that congenial work, with excitement and change, would do me good.But what is one to do?I did write for a while in spite of them; but it DOES exhaust me a good deal--having to be so sly about it, or else meet with heavy opposition.I sometimes fancy that my condition if I had less opposition and more society and stimulus--but John says the very worst thing I can do is to think about my condition, and I confess it always makes me feel bad.So I will let it alone and talk about the house.The most beautiful place! It is quite alone, standing well back from the road, quite three miles from the village. It makes me think of English places that you read about, for there are hedges and walls and gates that lock, and lots of separate little houses for the gardeners and people.There is a DELICIOUS garden! I never saw such a garden--large and shady, full of box-bordered paths, and lined with long grape-covered arbors with seats under them.There were greenhouses, too, but they are all broken now.There was some legal trouble, I believe, something about the heirs and coheirs; anyhow, the place has been empty for years.That spoils my ghostliness, I am afraid, but I don't care--there is something strange about the house--I can feel it.I even said so to John one moonlight evening, but he said what I felt was a DRAUGHT, and shut the window.I get unreasonably angry with John sometimes. I'm sure I never used to be so sensitive. I think it is due to this nervous condition.But John says if I feel so, I shall neglect proper self-control; so I take pains to control myself--before him, at least, and that makes me very tired. I don't like our room a bit. I wanted one downstairs that opened on the piazza and had roses all over the window, and such pretty old-fashioned chintz hangings! but John would not hear of it.He said there was only one window and not room for two beds, and no near room for him if he took another.He is very careful and loving, and hardly lets me stir without special direction.I have a schedule prescription for each hour in the day; he takes all care from me, and so I feel basely ungrateful not to value it more.He said we came here solely on my account, that I was to have perfect rest and all the air I could get. "Your exercise depends on your strength, my dear," said he, "and your food somewhat on your appetite; but air you can absorb all the time." So we took the nursery at the top of the house.It is a big, airy room, the whole floor nearly, with windows that look all ways, and air and sunshine galore. It was nursery first and then playroom and gymnasium, I should judge; for the windows are barred for little children, and there are rings and things in the walls.The paint and paper look as if a boys' school had used it. It is stripped off--the paper--in great patches all around the head of my bed, about as far as I can reach, and in a great place on the other side of the room low down. I never saw a worse paper in my life.One of those sprawling flamboyant patterns committing every artistic sin.It is dull enough to confuse the eye in following, pronounced enough to constantly irritate and provoke study, and when you follow the lame uncertain curves for a little distance they suddenly commit suicide--plunge off at outrageous angles, destroy themselves in unheard of contradictions.The color is repelllent, almost revolting; a smouldering unclean yellow, strangely faded by the slow-turning sunlight.It is a dull yet lurid orange in some places, a sickly sulphur tint in others.No wonder the children hated it! I should hate it myself if I had to live in this room long.There comes John, and I must put this away,he hates to have me write a word.We have been here two weeks, and I haven't felt like writing before, since that first day.I am sitting by the window now, up in this atrocious nursery, and there is nothing to hinder my writing as much as I please, save lack of strength.John is away all day, and even some nights when his cases are serious. I am glad my case is not serious!But these nervous troubles are dreadfully depressing.John does not know how much I really suffer. He knows there is noREASON to suffer, and that satisfies him.Of course it is only nervousness. It does weigh on me so not to do myduty in any way!I meant to be such a help to John, such a real rest and comfort, andhere I am a comparative burden already!Nobody would believe what an effort it is to do what little I am able,to dress and entertain, and other things.It is fortunate Mary is so good with the baby. Such a dear baby!And yet I CANNOT be with him, it makes me so nervous.I suppose John never was nervous in his life. He laughs at me so about this wall-paper!At first he meant to repaper the room, but afterwards he said that I was letting it get the better of me, and that nothing was worse for a nervous patient than to give way to such fancies.He said that after the wall-paper was changed it would be the heavy bedstead, and then the barred windows, and then that gate at the head of the stairs, and so on."You know the place is doing you good," he said, "and really, dear, I don't care to renovate the house just for a three months' rental.""Then do let us go downstairs," I said, "there are such pretty rooms there."Then he took me in his arms and called me a blessed little goose, and said he would go down to the cellar, if I wished, and have it whitewashed into the bargain.But he is right enough about the beds and windows and things.It is an airy and comfortable room as any one need wish, and, of course, I would not be so silly as to make him uncomfortable just for a whim.I'm really getting quite fond of the big room, all but that horrid paper.Out of one window I can see the garden, those mysterious deepshaded arbors, the riotous old-fashioned flowers, and bushes and gnarly trees.Out of another I get a lovely view of the bay and a little private wharf belonging to the estate. There is a beautiful shaded lane that runs down there from the house. I always fancy I see people walking in these numerous paths and arbors, but John has cautioned me not to give way to fancy in the least. He says that with my imaginative power and habit of story-making, a nervous weakness like mine is sure to lead to all manner of excited fancies, and that I ought to use my will and good sense to check the tendency. So I try.I think sometimes that if I were only well enough to write a little it would relieve the press of ideas and rest me.But I find I get pretty tired when I try.It is so discouraging not to have any advice and companionship aboutmy work. When I get really well, John says we will ask Cousin Henry and Julia down for a long visit; but he says he would as soon put fireworks in my pillow-case as to let me have those stimulating people about now.I wish I could get well faster.But I must not think about that. This paper looks to me as if it KNEW what a vicious influence it had!There is a recurrent spot where the pattern lolls like a broken neck and two bulbous eyes stare at you upside down.I get positively angry with the impertinence of it and the everlastingness. Up and down and sideways they crawl, and those absurd, unblinking eyes are everywhere. There is one place where two breadths didn't match, and the eyes go all up and down the line, one a little higher than the other.I never saw so much expression in an inanimate thing before, and we all know how much expression they have! I used to lie awake as a child and get more entertainment and terror out of blank walls and plain furniture than most children could find in a toy store.I remember what a kindly wink the knobs of our big, old bureau used to have, and there was one chair that always seemed like a strong friend.I used to feel that if any of the other things looked too fierce I could always hop into that chair and be safe.The furniture in this room is no worse than inharmonious, however, for we had to bring it all from downstairs. I suppose when this was used as a playroom they had to take the nursery things out, and no wonder! I never saw such ravages as the children have made here.The wall-paper, as I said before, is torn off in spots, and it sticketh closer than a brother--they must have had perseverance as well as hatred.Then the floor is scratched and gouged and splintered, the plaster itself is dug out here and there, and this great heavy bed which is all we found in the room, looks as if it had been through the wars.But I don't mind it a bit--only the paper. There comes John's sister. Such a dear girl as she is, and so careful of me! I must not let her find me writing.She is a perfect and enthusiastic housekeeper, and hopes for no better profession. I verily believe she thinks it is the writing which made me sick!But I can write when she is out, and see her a long way off from these windows.There is one that commands the road, a lovely shaded winding road, and one that just looks off over the country. A lovely country, too, full of great elms and velvet meadows.This wall-paper has a kind of sub-pattern in a different shade, a particularly irritating one, for you can only see it in certain lights, and not clearly then.But in the places where it isn't faded and where the sun is just so--I can see a strange, provoking, formless sort of figure, that seems to skulk about behind that silly and conspicuous front design.There's sister on the stairs!Well, the Fourth of July is over! The people are gone and I am tiredout. John thought it might do me good to see a little company, so we just had mother and Nellie and the children down for a week.Of course I didn't do a thing. Jennie sees to everything now.But it tired me all the same.John says if I don't pick up faster he shall send me to Weir Mitchell inthe fall.But I don't want to go there at all. I had a friend who was in his handsonce, and she says he is just like John and my brother, only more so! Besides, it is such an undertaking to go so far.I don't feel as if it was worth while to turn my hand over for anything,and I'm getting dreadfully fretful and querulous.I cry at nothing, and cry most of the time.Of course I don't when John is here, or anybody else, but when I amalone.And I am alone a good deal just now. John is kept in town very oftenby serious cases, and Jennie is good and lets me alone when I want her to.So I walk a little in the garden or down that lovely lane, sit on the porch under the roses, and lie down up here a good deal.I'm getting really fond of the room in spite of the wall-paper. Perhaps BECAUSE of the wall-paper.It dwells in my mind so!I lie here on this great immovable bed--it is nailed down, I believe-- and follow that pattern about by the hour. It is as good as gymnastics, I assure you. I start, we'll say, at the bottom, down in the corner over there where it has not been touched, and I determine for the thousandth time that I WILL follow that pointless pattern to some sort of a conclusion.I know a little of the principle of design, and I know this thing was not arranged on any laws of radiation, or alternation, or repetition, or symmetry, or anything else that I ever heard of.It is repeated, of course, by the breadths, but not otherwise.Looked at in one way each breadth stands alone, the bloated curves and flourishes--a kind of "debased Romanesque" with delirium tremens-- go waddling up and down in isolated columns of fatuity.But, on the other hand, they connect diagonally, and the sprawling outlines run off in great slanting waves of optic horror, like a lot of wallowing seaweeds in full chase.The whole thing goes horizontally, too, at least it seems so, and I exhaust myself in trying to distinguish the order of its going in that direction.They have used a horizontal breadth for a frieze, and that adds wonderfully to the confusion.There is one end of the room where it is almost intact, and there, when the crosslights fade and the low sun shines directly upon it, I can almost fancy radiation after all,--the interminable grotesques seem to form around a common centre and rush off in headlong plunges of equal distraction.It makes me tired to follow it. I will take a nap I guess. I don't know why I should write this.I don't want to.I don't feel able.And I know John would think it absurd. But I MUST say what I feel and think in some way--it is such a relief!But the effort is getting to be greater than the relief.Half the time now I am awfully lazy, and lie down ever so much.John says I musn't lose my strength, and has me take cod liver oil andlots of tonics and things, to say nothing of ale and wine and rare meat. Dear John! He loves me very dearly, and hates to have me sick. I tried to have a real earnest reasonable talk with him the other day, and tell him how I wish he would let me go and make a visit to Cousin Henry and Julia.But he said I wasn't able to go, nor able to stand it after I got there; and I did not make out a very good case for myself, for I was crying before I had finished.It is getting to be a great effort for me to think straight. Just this nervous weakness I suppose.And dear John gathered me up in his arms, and just carried me upstairs and laid me on the bed, and sat by me and read to me till it tired my head.He said I was his darling and his comfort and all he had, and that I must take care of myself for his sake, and keep well.He says no one but myself can help me out of it, that I must use my will and self-control and not let any silly fancies run away with me.There's one comfort, the baby is well and happy, and does not have to occupy this nursery with the horrid wall-paper.If we had not used it, that blessed child would have! What a fortunate escape! Why, I wouldn't have a child of mine, an impressionable little thing, live in such a room for worlds.I never thought of it before, but it is lucky that John kept me here after all, I can stand it so much easier than a baby, you see.Of course I never mention it to them any more--I am too wise,--but I keep watch of it all the same.There are things in that paper that nobody knows but me, or ever will. Behind that outside pattern the dim shapes get clearer every day.It is always the same shape, only very numerous.And it is like a woman stooping down and creeping about behind thatpattern. I don't like it a bit. I wonder--I begin to think--I wish John would take me away from here!It is so hard to talk with John about my case, because he is so wise,and because he loves me so.But I tried it last night.It was moonlight. The moon shines in all around just as the sun does.I hate to see it sometimes, it creeps so slowly, and always comes in byone window or another.John was asleep and I hated to waken him, so I kept still and watchedthe moonlight on that undulating wall-paper till I felt creepy.The faint figure behind seemed to shake the pattern, just as if shewanted to get out.I got up softly and went to feel and see if the paper DID move, andwhen I came back John was awake."What is it, little girl?" he said. "Don't go walking about like that--you'll get cold."I though it was a good time to talk, so I told him that I really was notgaining here, and that I wished he would take me away."Why darling!" said he, "our lease will be up in three weeks, and Ican't see how to leave before."The repairs are not done at home, and I cannot possibly leave townjust now. Of course if you were in any danger, I could and would, but you really are better, dear, whether you can see it or not. I am a doctor, dear, and I know. You are gaining flesh and color, your appetite is better, I feel really much easier about you.""I don't weigh a bit more," said I, "nor as much; and my appetite may be better in the evening when you are here, but it is worse in the morning when you are away!""Bless her little heart!" said he with a big hug, "she shall be as sick as she pleases! But now let's improve the shining hours by going to sleep, and talk about it in the morning!""And you won't go away?" I asked gloomily."Why, how can I, dear? It is only three weeks more and then we will take a nice little trip of a few days while Jennie is getting the house ready. Really dear you are better!""Better in body perhaps--" I began, and stopped short, for he sat up straight and looked at me with such a stern, reproachful look that I could not say another word."My darling," said he, "I beg of you, for my sake and for our child's sake, as well as for your own, that you will never for one instant let that idea enter your mind! There is nothing so dangerous, so fascinating, to a temperament like yours. It is a false and foolish fancy. Can you not trust me as a physician when I tell you so?"So of course I said no more on that score, and we went to sleep before long. He thought I was asleep first, but I wasn't, and lay there for hours trying to decide whether that front pattern and the back pattern really did move together or separately.On a pattern like this, by daylight, there is a lack of sequence, a defiance of law, that is a constant irritant to a normal mind. The color is hideous enough, and unreliable enough, and infuriating enough, but the pattern is torturing.You think you have mastered it, but just as you get well underway in following, it turns a back-somersault and there you are. It slaps you in the face, knocks you down, and tramples upon you. It is like a bad dream.The outside pattern is a florid arabesque, reminding one of a fungus. If you can imagine a toadstool in joints, an interminable string of toadstools, budding and sprouting in endless convolutions--why, that is something like it.That is, sometimes!There is one marked peculiarity about this paper, a thing nobody seems to notice but myself,and that is that it changes as the light changes.When the sun shoots in through the east window--I always watch for that first long, straight ray--it changes so quickly that I never can quite believe it.That is why I watch it always.By moonlight--the moon shines in all night when there is a moon--I wouldn't know it was the same paper.At night in any kind of light, in twilight, candle light, lamplight, and worst of all by moonlight, it becomes bars! The outside pattern I mean,and the woman behind it is as plain as can be.I didn't realize for a long time what the thing was that showed behind,that dim sub-pattern, but now I am quite sure it is a woman.By daylight she is subdued, quiet. I fancy it is the pattern that keepsher so still. It is so puzzling. It keeps me quiet by the hour.I lie down ever so much now. John says it is good for me, and to sleepall I can.Indeed he started the habit by making me lie down for an hour aftereach meal.It is a very bad habit I am convinced, for you see I don't sleep.And that cultivates deceit, for I don't tell them I'm awake--O no!The fact is I am getting a little afraid of John.He seems very queer sometimes, and even Jennie has an inexplicablelook.It strikes me occasionally, just as a scientific hypothesis,--that perhapsit is the paper!I have watched John when he did not know I was looking, and comeinto the room suddenly on the most innocent excuses, and I've caught him several times LOOKING AT THE PAPER! And Jennie too. I caught Jennie with her hand on it once.She didn't know I was in the room, and when I asked her in a quiet, a very quiet voice, with the most restrained manner possible, what she was doing with the paper--she turned around as if she had been caught stealing, and looked quite angry--asked me why I should frighten her so!Then she said that the paper stained everything it touched, that she had found yellow smooches on all my clothes and John's, and she wished we would be more careful!Did not that sound innocent? But I know she was studying that pattern, and I am determined that nobody shall find it out but myself!Life is very much more exciting now than it used to be. You see I have something more to expect, to look forward to, to watch. I really do eat better, and am more quiet than I was.John is so pleased to see me improve! He laughed a little the other day, and said I seemed to be flourishing in spite of my wall-paper.I turned it off with a laugh. I had no intention of telling him it was BECAUSE of the wall-paper--he would make fun of me. He might even want to take me away.I don't want to leave now until I have found it out. There is a week more, and I think that will be enough.I'm feeling ever so much better! I don't sleep much at night, for it is so interesting to watch developments; but I sleep a good deal in the daytime.In the daytime it is tiresome and perplexing.There are always new shoots on the fungus, and new shades of yellow all over it. I cannot keep count of them, though I have tried conscientiously.It is the strangest yellow, that wall-paper! It makes me think of all the yellow things I ever saw--not beautiful ones like buttercups, but old foul, bad yellow things.But there is something else about that paper--the smell! I noticed it the moment we came into the room, but with so much air and sun it was not bad. Now we have had a week of fog and rain, and whether the windows are open or not, the smell is here.It creeps alll over the house.I find it hovering in the dining-room, skulking in the parlor, hiding in the hall, lying in wait for me on the stairs.It gets into my hair.Even when I go to ride, if I turn my head suddenly and surprise it-- there is that smell!Such a peculiar odor, too! I have spent hours in trying to analyze it, to find what it smelled like.It is not bad--at first, and very gentle, but quite the subtlest, most enduring odor I ever met.In this damp weather it is awful, I wake up in the night and find it hanging over me.It used to disturb me at first. I thought seriously of burning the house-- to reach the smell.But now I am used to it. The only thing I can think of that it is like is the COLOR of the paper! A yellow smell.There is a very funny mark on this wall, low down, near the mopboard.A streak that runs round the room. It goes behind every piece of furniture, except the bed, a long, straight, even SMOOCH, as if it had been rubbed over and over.I wonder how it was done and who did it, and what they did it for. Round and round and round--round and round and round--it makes me dizzy!I really have discovered something at last.Through watching so much at night, when it changes so, I have finallyfound out.The front pattern DOES move--and no wonder! The woman behindshakes it!Sometimes I think there are a great many women behind, andsometimes only one, and she crawls around fast, and her crawling shakes it all over.Then in the very bright spots she keeps still, and in the very shady spots she just takes hold of the bars and shakes them hard.And she is all the time trying to climb through. But nobody could climb through that pattern--it strangles so; I think that is why it has so many heads.They get through, and then the pattern strangles them off and turns them upside down, and makes their eyes white!If those heads were covered or taken off it would not be half so bad. I think that woman gets out in the daytime!And I'll tell you why--privately--I've seen her!I can see her out of every one of my windows!It is the same woman, I know, for she is always creeping, and mostwomen do not creep by daylight.I see her on that long road under the trees, creeping along, and when a carriage comes she hides under the blackberry vines.I don't blame her a bit. It must be very humiliating to be caughtcreeping by daylight!I always lock the door when I creep by daylight. I can't do it at night,for I know John would suspect something at once.And John is so queer now, that I don't want to irritate him. I wish hewould take another room! Besides, I don't want anybody to get that woman out at night but myself.I often wonder if I could see her out of all the windows at once.But, turn as fast as I can, I can only see out of one at a time.And though I always see her, she MAY be able to creep faster than Ican turn!I have watched her sometimes away off in the open country, creepingas fast as a cloud shadow in a high wind.If only that top pattern could be gotten off from the under one! I meanto try it, little by little.I have found out another funny thing, but I shan't tell it this time! Itdoes not do to trust people too much.There are only two more days to get this paper off, and I believe Johnis beginning to notice. I don't like the look in his eyes.And I heard him ask Jennie a lot of professional questions about me.She had a very good report to give.She said I slept a good deal in the daytime.John knows I don't sleep very well at night, for all I'm so quiet!He asked me all sorts of questions, too, and pretended to be veryloving and kind.As if I couldn't see through him!Still, I don't wonder he acts so, sleeping under this paper for threemonths.It only interests me, but I feel sure John and Jennie are secretlyaffected by it.Hurrah! This is the last day, but it is enough. John is to stay in townover night, and won't be out until this evening.Jennie wanted to sleep with me--the sly thing! but I told her I shouldundoubtedly rest better for a night all alone.That was clever, for really I wasn't alone a bit! As soon as it wasmoonlight and that poor thing began to crawl and shake the pattern, I got up and ran to help her.I pulled and she shook, I shook and she pulled, and before morning we had peeled off yards of that paper.A strip about as high as my head and half around the room.And then when the sun came and that awful pattern began to laugh at me, I declared I would finish it to-day!We go away to-morrow, and they are moving all my furniture down again to leave things as they were before.Jennie looked at the wall in amazement, but I told her merrily that I did it out of pure spite at the vicious thing.She laughed and said she wouldn't mind doing it herself, but I must not get tired.How she betrayed herself that time!But I am here, and no person touches this paper but me--not ALIVE! She tried to get me out of the room--it was too patent! But I said it wasso quiet and empty and clean now that I believed I would lie down again and sleep all I could; and not to wake me even for dinner--I would call when I woke.So now she is gone, and the servants are gone, and the things are gone, and there is nothing left but that great bedstead nailed down, with the canvas mattress we found on it.We shall sleep downstairs to-night, and take the boat home to-morrow. I quite enjoy the room, now it is bare again.How those children did tear about here!This bedstead is fairly gnawed!But I must get to work.I have locked the door and thrown the key down into the front path.I don't want to go out, and I don't want to have anybody come in, tillJohn comes.I want to astonish him.I've got a rope up here that even Jennie did not find. If that womandoes get out, and tries to get away, I can tie her!But I forgot I could not reach far without anything to stand on!This bed will NOT move!I tried to lift and push it until I was lame, and then I got so angry I bit off a little piece at one corner--but it hurt my teeth.Then I peeled off all the paper I could reach standing on the floor. Itsticks horribly and the pattern just enjoys it! All those strangled heads and bulbous eyes and waddling fungus growths just shriek with derision!I am getting angry enough to do something desperate. To jump out of the window would be admirable exercise, but the bars are too strong even to try.Besides I wouldn't do it. Of course not. I know well enough that a step like that is improper and might be misconstrued.I don't like to LOOK out of the windows even--there are so many of those creeping women, and they creep so fast.I wonder if they all come out of that wall-paper as I did?But I am securely fastened now by my well-hidden rope--you don't get ME out in the road there!I suppose I shall have to get back behind the pattern when it comes night, and that is hard!It is so pleasant to be out in this great room and creep around as I please!I don't want to go outside. I won't, even if Jennie asks me to.For outside you have to creep on the ground, and everything is green instead of yellow.But here I can creep smoothly on the floor, and my shoulder just fits in that long smooch around the wall, so I cannot lose my way.Why there's John at the door!It is no use, young man, you can't open it!How he does call and pound!Now he's crying for an axe.It would be a shame to break down that beautiful door!"John dear!' said I in the gentlest voice, "the key is down by the frontsteps, under a plantain leaf!"That silenced him for a few moments.Then he said--very quietly indeed, "Open the door, my darling!""I can't", said I. "The key is down by the front door under a plantainleaf!"And then I said it again, several times, very gently and slowly, and said it so often that he had to go and see, and he got it of course, and came in. He stopped short by the door."What is the matter?" he cried. "For God's sake, what are you doing!"I kept on creeping just the same, but I looked at him over my shoulder. "I've got out at last," said I, "in spite of you and Jane. And I've pulledoff most of the paper, so you can't put me back!"Now why should that man have fainted? But he did, and right acrossmy path by the wall, so that I had to creep over him every time!

貌似是在聊起电锯惊魂之流的时候同事向我推荐了这部《美国恐怖故事》，辞职之后终于有时间来看了，看之前我还问他这是恐怖的还是恶心的，他说都有点吧，现在我看完了，我想说这美剧既不恐怖也不恶心，而是带点煽情的感人。

首先我在第一集里看到那个似人非人的怪物长的很像哈利波特的妖精老师我就觉得这没什么恐怖的了╮(╯_╰)╭然后当女仆望着自己的遗骸哭泣的时候我也哭了，还有后来她去看望自己母亲时我也哭了，多煽情啊，哪恐怖了？

还有被砍成两段的“大丽花”、崔维斯、两个满脸伤痕的捣蛋男孩、被烧死的母女三人……我只能说化妆技术还不错，但要说恐怖或者恶心，完全没有超越电锯惊魂、心慌方、死神来了之类的片子，算是小清新的了╮(╯_╰)╭另外一开始死的那俩捣蛋男孩在死的时候背景音乐居然是欢快的tonight you belong to me，太诙谐了好吗= =最早的那个大夫是害死了24位来堕胎的少女是吗？

那加上她们的孩子，这房子在最初就先死了48个无辜的人。

后来林林总总又死了29个人，所以这儿能不成凶宅吗╮(╯_╰)╭但貌似死去的人里好人占大多数，其中tate杀了几个人都是为了给nora一个孩子，真是莫名其妙的理由= =我是觉得如果跟这些鬼魂和平共处就好了嘛，一家子人多么地热闹啊，何必打打杀杀，那些好鬼很可怜的啊，每人一部心酸史啊，更应该好好对待它们啊╮(╯_╰)╭这片子的世界观可是死了就永生了诶，我靠那些鬼除了不能走出那房子干什么都行啊，尼玛生孩子都行啊，太牛逼了，而且说句go away就走开了，多好收拾啊。

卖房子的时候就应该说，这里面有多少多少鬼，都是怎么死的，哪些是好的哪些是坏的，好的可以帮你，坏的就让它们go away，世界和平啊简直！

第九集结尾居然出来个末日论啊尼玛，一口老血都要喷出来了好吗，还能再扯一点吗，一下子就联想到当年X档案结尾的时候Scully生下的疑似外星人之子啊。

不过他们那个是救世主，你们这个是魔鬼啊，魔鬼啊好吗，3岁杀人就那么开心鸟，我靠对方是一个肥婆啊，3岁的娃娃怎么做到割喉的啊，一屋子的血呦，从楼下拖到楼上了咩，好劲爆\(^o^)/“人类和灵魂结合所诞生的孩子将引发世界的终结，这就是邪恶本质。

”尼玛这都撼动基督教了好吗？

2012要来了是吗，小魔鬼将开启地狱之门是吗，好期待第二季呢，哎呀呀，终于要变玄幻了呢\(^o^)/尼玛，真的够了！！

→_→房子里的死鬼越来越多了，不过它们再那么闹下去肯定不会有人再去买再去住了，所以我只关心那个小崽子。

只是来吐槽啦，我要看的美剧们还没回归，只好捞到什么看什么了╮(╯_╰)╭over

1.主角团的每一次选择都是在强行作，Every single choice!只要有一次不zuo早就结束了这部剧。

强行以zuo来续命。

2.套路就是每集新死一个人或者告诉你以前又有谁死在这里，反正就是每集可以收集一个新的图鉴。

集齐所有鬼能不能换个礼物回家？

3.这应该改名叫做美国相亲相爱一家人，又不想害你又不想杀你叫go away就走了这么听话的鬼上哪找？

除了个别丑的其他都是挺和蔼可亲的鬼啊！

还能帮你做家务，帮你看病、接生！

4.不管你性别或取向如何，在这里都能找到能嘿嘿嘿的鬼，多种口味任君选择5.我本来以为是编剧水平差，后来发现根本就是把观众当傻子。

6.这部剧应该叫美国相亲相爱一家人。

7.这是一部喜剧片，全剧没有一个恐怖镜头，请放心食用。

8.这部剧居然也能有7.7分让我觉得真™神奇。

恐怖片我看的多了这片真的毫无诚意。

鬼宅的设定是最为吸引人的内核，也是限制了剧情发展的桎梏。

当美恐1用丈夫出轨一事作为起承转合时，就已经落了俗套，无法突破了！！

先说本季吸引我的优点1.女儿Violet的塑造:一个颇有个性的美国少女。

大姐大辱骂她，她朝对方吐口水；被按在地上，她用烟头烧对方手；以赠予毒品为由把对方骗到家里进行恐吓。

太难得见到这种遇到校园暴力不憋屈的女孩了。

爱Tate时连他是👻也爱；为了不离开Tate撒谎，眼睁睁看着母亲被送进精神病院；得知Tate的背叛后毫不留情的拒绝和离开。

演出一个青春期叛逆少女不难，但如何塑造一个不让人反感(划重点)，真实而鲜活的角色还是不简单的。

2.多代死于此屋的👻的新鲜设定。

不是一个老鬼作祟，而是至少八代鬼魂活于此宅比较有印象的几个1.医生Charles缝合起儿子被分尸的身体(但没有进一步剧情了，本以为被缝合的怪物是本作的罪魁祸首。

出现一些恐怖婴儿尸体难道不比鬼现身为人更为灵异？

)2.漂亮女佣/中年女佣的转变掘开后院深坑，里面赫然是女仆的骸骨。

后在上面盖了凉亭，邻居和女仆在窗口看着这一切，邻居说:“你将被永远困在这里了”，不免让人毛骨悚然。

缺点1.男主垃圾，一度让人看不下去。

渣(妻子流产，多次出轨女学生)；愚蠢(这点是美剧常态了，忽视经历了那么多的灵异事件，坚定认为是幻觉！

不是鬼！

)；道貌岸然；双标；屁用没有2.小三的剧情全删了都完全没问题。

这个愚蠢自大又疯狂的小三就是给观众添堵的。

3.历代房主的故事属实无聊4.杀人？

想杀就杀咯。

←整个剧给人这种感受。

5.黑色橡胶衣♂=Tate。

(失望100％)给Tate安排了那么多剧情，也不用管合不合理，有没有逻辑，乱七八糟6.若改名叫美国悬疑故事，可以有三星半，实在侮辱了恐怖这个字眼。

首先声明，我吐槽绝对不是报着来黑这个剧或者男主太老女主皱纹太多或者被该剧吓得屁滚尿流的恶毒心理来的。

事实上该剧已经被我列入今年准备追的剧目之一，而且有跟下去的打算。

吐槽是一种态度，吐一吐，更欢乐嘛。

欢迎反吐。

槽点一：地下室。

有句话怎么说来着？

美国恐怖剧90%不是发生在地下室就是发生在去地下室的路上。

好吧，这是我编的。。。

反正类似的情节大家已经看过很多很多次了，地下室啊，作为一个住着套房的穷逼中国人只好羡慕的看着男主女主各种配出入于神奇的地下室，路过，路过，再次路过，地下室有次元空间哦，随意出入的人都会死哦，不过男主女主以及他们女儿有主角光环笼罩，最多吓个半死不会有事哦，路人甲乙请不要模仿哦。

槽点二：信路人得永生。

我想，就算是神经大条到明知有命案发生的屋子都照买不误的男主女主们，在发现家里经常有怪奇事件发生，有怪异人等出没，乃至赫然发现自己家是城内有名的谋杀之屋之后，是不是应该有点好奇心百度一下自己家屋子的历史呢？

说不定会发现家里好多熟面孔哦。。。

槽点三：不得搬家。

体贴的妇科医生说，孕妇不要搬家哦，对身体不好哦。

但我想，医生不是说，不要搬家哦，哪怕你家有N多诡异事件发生，你差点被绑架杀掉，即使你家是有名的谋杀之屋也要妥妥的住着哦亲！

哪个对孕妇心理更不好，应该有差别吧。。。。

最后吐一个槽！

我要爆发了！

我实在受不了女主那张肉毒素打多到脸垮掉无表情全世界欠她一千万恐惧警惕阶级斗争不能忘的苦大仇深的脸了！！！

2023年夏天没有豆瓣的日子里狂刷美恐到第七季，第一季其实早在2013年就看过了，这次一并重看。

女主后来演《白莲花度假村》第一季，那个夫妻互动颇有美恐第一季夫妻关系的影子。

Fatal Attraction, 1987美恐第一季里小三把女主的宠物狗放进微波炉，是1987年电影《致命诱惑》的梗，迈克尔道格拉斯的这部电影里，小三把他家的宠物兔子连皮煮了。

“American Horror Story: Murder House”的时间线如下：1922年

谋杀屋是Charles Montgomery医生于1922年建起的，与其妻Nora和子Thaddeus一同居住。

最终医生本人药物成瘾并发展成弗兰肯斯坦综合征。

Nora Montgomery为了贴补家用，Nora开始招徕年轻的意外怀孕女子，医生为她们行人流术。

其中一个女孩不小心泄露了秘密，她的男友绑架并杀死了医生的儿子Thaddeus，装在瓶子里归还。

医生试图复活自己的孩子，进行了一系列缝合拼接。

Thaddeus MontgomeryNora发现这个新版本的儿子是个怪物，狂热于鲜血和人肉，于是想杀死他，混乱中射杀医生随后自杀。

1947年

Elizabeth Short，与原型Elizabeth Short，又名“黑色大丽花”，The Black Dahlia谋杀案发生于此屋。

凶手牙医David Curan将尸体拖到地下室时，前屋主Charles Montgomery宣称自己可以“make the body more portable”。

1968年

R. Franklin因为温度计事故而痛恨护士的R. Franklin 在谋杀屋杀死了两名护校学生，Gladys和Maria。

GladysGladys淹死在楼上的浴缸里。

[《镀金年代》时罗素家的漂亮女儿也叫Gladys，演员Taissa Farmiga是美恐非常重要的演员，越来越年轻了呢]

Maria则死于多次刀刺。

1978年

双胞胎Troy和Bryan不顾年幼的Adelaide的警告进入谋杀屋，结果被第一任屋主医生的孩子Thaddeus杀死。

Adelaide也是后来的女巫之一。

1983年

Constance发现自己的丈夫Hugo与女仆Moria有奸情（其实是强奸），于是射杀两人，女仆被射中眼睛埋在院子里，Hugo喂了狗。

[Constance由杰西卡兰芝扮演，最近看了梅丽尔斯特里普的传记，两人几乎同时出道，但当时需要美艳或性感的角色都归了杰西卡兰芝]1984年Constance和她的孩子们住在谋杀屋，但已无法负担费用。

七岁的Tate在地下室遇到了第一任屋主的孩子Thaddeus，被Nora救下并向她学会喝退恶鬼的方法。

1984-1993Constance失去谋杀屋，住在隔壁。

19？？

-1994

Constance住在隔壁的某个时间点，Larry和老婆孩子住进谋杀屋，接着Larry和Constance有了奸情。

Larry坚持让老婆孩子搬走，而Constance烧死了她们。

[Larry的演员也是本剧常驻，最出彩的角色是旅店那季里的异装癖]1994年

BeauConstance 和她的孩子们搬回谋杀屋与Larry同住，在Constance的暗示下Larry杀死了Constance的孩子Beau。

这一年Tate最终崩溃，将Larry杀死在他工作的地方并对尸体纵火，然后去自己的学校制造了枪击事件，其中五个受害者在万圣节时来“拜访”过他。

Tate本人死于学校枪击事件后SWAT小队的“家访”。

2010年

Chad同性伴侣Chad和Patrick搬来谋杀屋，两人关系不和，各种背叛各种争吵。

最后两人被Tate杀死，Tate一直想为Nora找个孩子，但Chad和Patrick的感情破裂让两人领养小孩不再可能。

[Chad是Asylum那季里的精神科医生]2011年

Taissa Farmiga哈蒙一家搬来。

最终女儿死于药物过量，Vivien死于生产，Ben被吊死。

[Ben的演员在第二季，Asylum里演了莎拉保尔森的儿子，现实里比莎拉保尔森年长十几岁]

Tate是Evan Peters演的，也是常驻，后来演了达莫与“美恐：旅馆”相映成趣。

看完第八集。。。。。

被震撼到了。

恶鬼很多，这么渣的鬼我第一次见啊。

老草嫩草一起啃有木有啊！

雄的雌的生冷不计有木有啊！

欲擒故纵装可怜有木有啊！

我最近在追这部美剧，很好看，吸引我的原因有：第一，综合所有的恐怖元素：1 片头里阴暗的场景中，有各式各样装着标本的玻璃罐。

染着血迹的剪刀，手术刀，惊恐的幼儿照片，铁链。

所有恐怖片所应有的元素在片头的闪现中逐一体现。

2、第一集开始，两个恶作剧的双胞胎进入这个破旧的老宅，智障女童警告他们，他们置之不理。

所有的人都知道这两个倒霉鬼的下场了。

可当他们挥舞大棒在老宅中横冲直撞时，音乐响起，居然是首欢乐的歌。

查了一下百度贴吧里的，名字是Tonight You Belong to Me，来自1956年Patience and Prudence的翻唱版本。

哇，真是非常应景。

唱出了宅里怪物的心声。

3，房子三层，地下层里有个利鬼，尖牙利爪，喜欢抓花人脸，拉开气管，动作快得看不出他们是什么样，但很寂寞，会和智障儿玩滚球。

居室里的女仆也是个鬼，她是个怨鬼，在男人的眼中她美艳诱人，在女人的眼中她丑陋衰老。

在第三集中，因为女主人要辞退她，她抓狂：“女人往往都能看到本质，而男人都只看到他们愿意看到的东西。

”她不能离开这个老宅，为什么呢？

因为她就埋在这房子的土里。

女仆的话相当符合所有恐怖片中的中心思想，怖由心生。

老宅是抓住这一点再将它们放大。

同时，还有一个小男生，估计也是鬼，却起着保护宅中小女儿的作用。

他夜间凝视着小姑娘时，场景很有爱。

这是这片子中唯一让人觉得有希望的看头，但，你也知道的，鬼和人在一起终究没有好结局的，顶楼的是个喜欢穿黑胶服的怪物。

跟女主人有关。

海报上那个家伙就是他。

四个非现实的生物，一个有小BOSS气质的女邻居神神叨叨，还有一个具有阴阳眼的智障儿。。

现实世界里男主人有外遇，女主人被生育所烦恼，一个叛逆期的女儿。

外加一个发生了不少命案的多年老宅。

我仔细想了一下，除却异形外太空生物外，该片真的是包含了所有恐怖的元素。

还有什么它所没有呢？

当然，它也有鬼婴。

在地下室里。

第二，情节丰富，结局总是出人意外男主人是一名心理医生，在与病人进行诊疗中，有一些心理的专业解释耐人寻味。

同时，男主人自己也有一笔说不清的帐，现实世界的这些活人，在剧里都把神经绷到一个极点。

每个人都有自己心理纠结，这些纠结颜色暗沉不亚于那些来自于地窖的秘密。

每一集开始都会带来一个凶杀案。

也许会提示活人该怎样活着才不至于像这些倒霉蛋那样死去。

或者，死亡来临时本身也是没道理可言。

第三集看完，对女仆充满同情，她也是这样一个倒霉鬼，他用鸦片酊诱使男主人去控坑，或许就是希望男主人来解开她的结，将她从坟中挖出，给她的灵魂自由。

但是很遗憾，终究她还是走不了，男主人也注定以悲剧结尾。

刚从百度贴吧里看的这个：“而American Horror Story的核心，也呼之待出，其实就是丈夫和妻子的对抗，牵连了所有卷进相同矛盾的人。

这一点如轮回般不断发生在同样出现矛盾的夫妻之间，而孩子等人沦为牺牲品。

”第三 音乐实在太好听了。

就象开初所说的，配乐相当出彩。

第一集的音乐在百度吧里找有。

第三集，《For Everything A Reason》，这样的歌，配上那样的景还有女仆的泪，嗯，非常出彩。

非常惊喜的剧！

但说实话，若是单单冲着“恐怖”二字去看，那就算了。

至少本人觉得没有半点恐怖意味，至多算的上“诡异”。

一家人搬进了新房子，谁知接连不断的发生怪事，原来这栋房子是著名的鬼宅，房子的主人几乎都死于非命。

更诡异的是，死在这栋房子里的人，灵魂都不得超生，永世困在房子里……从人物来说：少男少女很养眼，这俩角色是整部剧里我最喜欢的。

妈妈很坚强，爸爸虽然出过轨，但还算爱家，重要的是长的挺有味道。

女仆是最惊喜的，年轻的时候美的惊艳，年老的时候有种淡淡的哀伤。

隔壁怪阿姨非常霸气，就连她那个有唐氏的女儿演的都超棒！！

房子的第一代女主人非常有气质，和隔壁怪阿姨一样，都是霸气御姐啊应该说每个角色都很丰满，很有个性，不错！！！